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She has the decency to thaw, though just slightly. “It’s just that I have chores to do. The Bailies are one of the few families here wealthy enough to employ help.”

“Then let me help you,” I say too quickly, too eagerly.

“I wouldn’t want you to dirty your royal hands, Lady Thelia.”

Shit. Another mistake. Even Proserpina, despite our closeness, never offered to help me with my duties all those years ago. It simply wasn’t, and isn’t, the way of things. And now Cora has discovered a loose thread at the edge of my tale. How can I be certain she won’t unravel the entire thing?

“Please, just call me Thelia.”

Now she does soften: Her arms unfurl, her jaw unclenches, and a hint of warmth sparks in those verdant eyes. “All right, then. Thelia. Come with me.”

She says my name slowly, and I savor each syllable as it drips from her lips.

Cora leads us west out of the market, through rows of cottages that grow smaller the farther we get from the city’s center. Ahead of us, the wall draws closer, composed of hundreds of vertical logs. She scoops a stick off the ground in one graceful motion and then waves me to her side.

“Come, I’ll draw you a map.”

I relish the opportunity to draw close to her again, to smell the delicate kiss of rose water on her skin. But my excitement withers into dread as Cora drags the stick through the dirt, as her coastline begins to curve in on itself—another island. This one’s oblong, with the land bending gently to the west. Its western shore has a small cove, and another, sharper inlet of water cuts in from the sea on the south.

“The colony is here.” Cora draws a circle in the middle of the northern edge. Then she takes a step away and draws another line farther west. “…And this is the mainland.”

Then she marks an “X” at the top of the sharp inlet of water. “This whole area is a swamp, though I haven’t seen it myself.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s dangerous. There are few good reasons to leave the fort, let alone wander that far away from it.”

I frown. This island is roughly the same size as Scopuli, and Cora is suggesting that most of it is off-limits.

Next, she draws a quick outline of the actual village. It’s composed of three concentric rings, all orbiting the meetinghouse. The Bailie home is directly north of the meetinghouse in the first ring. Cora’s home is in the second ring, to the northeast. The village is encased in a fourth, final circle—the wall before us, intended to keep the city’s occupants safe. There’s a gate in each cardinal direction, and each is guarded by a sentry posted on a ladder.

“What are they watching for?” My eyes snap to the man who sits atop his perch.

“Natives,” she concedes, “and for ships at sea.”

“How many people live here?”

“One hundred and twelve now. Though far fewer will likely survive the winter.”

A somber mood settles over Cora, but I bite my lip to keepfrom shrieking with joy: More than one hundred people call this place home. The number makes saliva pool under my tongue. If I can convince even a fraction to return with me…

“Come, let us walk around the wall.”

We continue west, weaving our way among tiny thatched houses and curious stares. The guard on duty eyes Cora from his post as we approach. I recognize him immediately; he’s the one who found me first. At least today his clothes aren’t soiled.

“He’s a drunk,” she whispers before we enter his range of hearing.

“Good day, Mistress Waters and…oh!” In the light of day, I can see that his eyes are a dark brown, and that they’re leery.

“This is Master Chapman,” Cora says.

“It’s good to meet you,” I offer, and his face crumples as he tries to parse whether our initial encounter truly was a hallucination brought on by too much alcohol. His expression doesn’t betray where he lands.

“I’m showing Lady Thelia the city. Can we look across the sound? It would only be for a few minutes.”

“If you’re quick about it.”

He doesn’t speak again until both feet are on the ground, and then he locks his eyes on his leather boots, missing how Cora rolls hers before she proceeds up the ladder.