Curious, I shifted to get a better look. A baritone voice reached us, carried by the sea breeze. “Hail, Shearwaters! Here we are, at long last!” It was joined by a woman’s laugh: deep and delighted.
Vercha stepped forward, held a palm up in greeting.
The pair that rode up to us were startlingly alike. Twins, I guessed, taking in their fine countenances: one a slim-shouldered man in a peacock-green doublet, the other a woman in a silver-gray gown. They had the same rich tan skin, the same handsome features, the same dark, sparkling eyes, the same wide, easy smiles.
“Avrix. Morgen,” Vercha said warmly.
“Darlings,” Morgen Cormorant replied. She dismounted elegantly, kissed the siblings on their cheeks.
“My, look at you all,” said her brother, Avrix. He hopped down with a flourish, tugged off his riding gloves. “Little Cattie. You were nigh out of muslin nappies when we saw you last, I’m certain of it.”
Catua flushed; the others all laughed.
“You aremostwelcome,” Emment said, clapping his friend on the back. He had an air of almost desperate relief. Gratitude, perhaps, for the coming distractions.
“Youhaveall grown up, haven’t you?” Morgen said slowly. She had just pressed a kiss to Llir’s right cheek. Standing back now, she took in his frame.
Llir was smiling like his siblings, but there was a tightness to his jaw that the others didn’t share. “And you’re as magnificent as ever, Morgen.” He dipped his head, and she grinned at him, eyes glittering.
As my stomach tugged oddly, Avrix’s eyes roved his hosts. “But where is your dear father?” he said with a frown. “Not indisposed, I hope? What a stroke of bad luck that would be.”
“Not at all,” said Vercha hastily. “He is over in Pen Aryn. Business, you understand. He sends his deepest apologies.”
Avrix’s eyebrows twitched. “Of course. The Chamber.”
Exchanging a barely there glance with her brother, Morgen looked sorrowful. “Shall we not see him at all?”
“I’m confident you will,” Emment replied, smiling. “He fully expects to return for the ball.”
The visitors looked mollified, and they all moved off. With a strange, jagged feeling I couldn’t explain, I watched Morgen fall in close beside Llir, Tigo hiking behind them like a shadow.
Avrix’s voice drifted back toward me: “You have a culverhouse up at the castle, yes? Later I should like to let our long-suffering mother know we didn’t perish on the crossing, as she predicted we would.”
My insides jumped at the mention of the culverhouse, at the reminder of the message I still had to send.
Vercha’s eyes twinkled. “Dear Lady Cormorant. Of course. How is the dowager doing these days?”
My nerves were multiplying by the minute. But then I was distracted by the figures that came next: the blue-liveried servants we’d seen behind the twins. Here, I realized with a spark of curiosity, were the Cormorants’ own Orha: a set of four, like us.
They were cool faced, unsmiling, done up in high collars. The crests on their livery showed an ebony bird: long necked, wings raised, on top of two crossed sabers.
The group was fronted by a burly woman. Taller than Mawre, she was pale, rose-cheeked, her flaxen hair braided tightly to her head.
“Well met,” she said to Rhianne and me—we’d strayed behind the others to stare. She had a blunt, biting accent I couldn’t place. “I am Nemaine. This is Ebba, Orran, and Daiman.” Behind her clustered a woman and two men, all of whom looked older than us.
It was Rhianne who replied, after a momentary pause. “I’m Rhianne. This is Corith. And that’s Tigo and Mawre.” But when we glanced around, our Mudmouth and Gustmouth had drawn away.
Nemaine’s ice-blue eyes swept us up and down once. Then she beckoned to her companions, and they disappeared through the gatehouse.
Before the luggage cart could overtake us, too, we followed, exchanging a fleeting glance.
“This ball,” I said quietly, watching the visitors ahead, seeing Morgen Cormorant throw her head back, laughing. “Are we really expected to go to it?”
“Of course,” said Rhianne. “Along with everything else. When the Hundred are together, it’s…like a performance. It started after the Great Revolt. For their protection, at first, from rival Houses, but then, eventually, it became tradition. Exhibition.” She’d lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. “It’s stupid, really. Lots of standing around.”
“Wait,” I said with creeping trepidation. “What do you mean, ‘Along with everything else’?”
“Tours of the island. Musical evenings. Cards, dice. Formal dinners, dancing, readings…”
