as he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees. “Some streets are filled with people, some with cars.” He gestured to the theater. “Fancy cars. Police. It’s a nightmare. We have to get to Oxbridge or maybe even Wellfleet Avenue. There’s no way a hansom can get through all those cops.”
“But that would take us too much time, wouldn’t it?” And the police might recognize them. And the crowds might be too dense to get through. And . . . and . . . and . . .
“Won’t Vada keep Sera safe until we get there?” Leo asked.
“She doesn’t know who Sera is,” Agnes said miserably. “Oh, Leo, what do we do, what do we do?”
She wrung her hands, cursing herself for not seeing this coming, for not being more prepared for any situation.
“I don’t know,” Leo said. “But we’ve got to move. We can’t stay here or Father will—”
“Can I help you two?” A Pemberton with broad shoulders and a nose that looked to have been broken more than once had approached them from the theater.
Leo came to the rescue with a perfect lie. “I’m just looking for our car,” he said pompously. “The play was a bit too much for my sister. I think that horrid fish man frightened her. Frightened me too, if I’m honest. Have you seen that thing?”
“No,” the Pemberton said.
“Well, I don’t recommend it. Old Xavier’s off his rocker if you ask me.”
Agnes was wondering how long Leo could keep this up when a green motorcar pulled up to the curb. Eneas hopped out and circled around to open the back door for them.
She stared at him in shock. Thankfully, Leo’s reactions were quicker than hers.
“Where have you been?” he demanded. “We’ve been waiting a full five minutes.”
“Apologies, sir,” Eneas said, bowing as Leo gripped Agnes’s arm and steered her into the back seat.
“Well, take us home at once,” he said. “Good evening to you, sir,” he added to the Pemberton, who was watching them with far too suspicious an expression for Agnes’s liking.
Eneas pulled away from the theater and waved at a police officer, who seemed to know him and allowed him past the barricade on Fiftieth Street. No one spoke until they had left Central Square and were driving through the smaller, residential streets of Graham Hill. Eneas headed straight to Seaview Drive, which wound along the shoreline and would take them directly to the Seaport.
“How did you know?” Agnes asked. “That we needed help?”
“I saw your brother running through the streets like the dickens and figured that whatever you two have been up to over the past week, it wasn’t working out the way you planned.” He gave her a wry look in the rearview—Agnes could feel her mouth hanging open.
“You knew?” Leo asked, also looking astonished.
Eneas chuckled. “I’ve known you two since the day you were born, and not in all that time have I ever seen you be anything but combative with each other. And then all of a sudden you talk together politely with no fights and no snapping?” He shook his head. “You are lucky your father hates to look at you,” he said to Leo. “Or he might have noticed as well.”
The line of tension in Leo’s jaw stood out in sharp relief in the light of the gas lamps that lined the road.
“And you,” Eneas continued, turning his attention to Agnes. “I heard there was a wealthy Kaolin girl at the Wolfshead talking to a Pelagan sailor. The Wolfshead, Agnes, of all places? Do you know how dangerous that was?”
Shame crept into her belly, and embarrassment—she’d thought she was being clever, but really she stood out like a sore thumb.
“I know,” she said. “One of Father’s men saw me.”
“I’m not surprised. Thank the goddesses he did not lock you up immediately,” Eneas said. He eased the car past a slow-moving horse and cart. “I assume you booked passage to Pelago? Or did Ambrosine send a ship? You never told me what was in her letter.”
“What let—” Leo began, but Agnes held up a hand to silence him.
“She didn’t, but she wants to meet me. Someone at the university told her I had applied. She knew I was coming.”
“What univer—”
“In a second, Leo,” she said. “Eneas, we’re trying to get Sera—the girl Leo and I found in the plains—we’ve got to get her to Pelago. And Errol too, the mertag. They don’t deserve the fate Father has in store for them. And I want