leaves, one for each person, replaced the lid on the tin, and then put the teapot’s lid back on. “I always forget to warm the pot first,” she said. “His Highness makes a much better cup of tea.”
“Iola,” said Master Haywood.
She went to him, eased him back down onto the long, padded chaise, and took a seat next to him. “It isn’t the end of the world—not yet.”
And wouldn’t be until her shock wore off. “What exactly did you see, Kashkari? I want to hear everything.”
Kashkari closed his eyes for a moment. “I was riding a wyvern and peering intently ahead. It was dark except for a glimmer of starlight, just enough to give the idea that I was flying above an angular and desolate landscape. And then I saw a pool of light ahead, growing brighter and nearer with every stroke of the wyvern’s wings.
“At that point my dream, as dreams sometimes do, cut away to a different locale. I was in the air again, on a huge terrace or platform that floated forward, and I was looking down on a floodlit valley surrounded by a jagged rim. There were rings of defenses and dozens of wyverns in the sky.”
“The Commander’s Palace,” Iolanthe murmured.
She remembered now that Kashkari had asked her about the Commander’s Palace. He had been trying to understand every detail of his dream, to give it its proper context.
“Yes, I believe so,” said Kashkari. “At this point my dream jumped forward in time again and I was running across a rubble-strewn floor. But even with the damage I could see the pattern underfoot, a huge mosaic of the Atlantean maelstrom.
“And—and there was your body, next to a column. His Highness was already there, kneeling by your side, your wrist in his hand. At my approach, he looked up and shook his head.”
Iolanthe listened carefully—or at least it felt as if she were listening carefully. She could see what Kashkari described, in more detail than she wanted. But still none of it felt real. “You saw my face?”
Kashkari nodded.
“You are sure?”
He nodded again.
“And I looked the same as I do now?”
“Exactly the same. Except . . .”
Her heart pounded. “Except what?”
“Except your sleeve was torn. And on your left upper arm you wore a gold filigreed armband set with rubies.”
“But I don’t wear any jewelry. And I don’t have any.” She turned to Titus. “Do you have such a piece in your possession?”
She knew Master Haywood didn’t.
Titus shook his head.
“Then it couldn’t possibly be me. I wouldn’t accept jewelry given to me by anyone except my guardian or the prince.”
As soon as the words left her lips, she realized how naive—even asinine—she sounded. This was exactly how every single dunce tried to reason his way out of his fate, by holding on to some detail that could be vigorously denied. I would never go there. I would never eat that. Why would I meet my end on a mountaintop when I do not even care to climb stairs?
The future had its way of twisting and turning, so that events that seemed both improbable and perfectly avoidable ended up inescapable, when enough time and circumstances had unspooled.
Master Haywood took her hand in his. Their clasped hands shook, and she couldn’t tell who was trembling harder. Titus, across the room, seemed to need all his concentration to remain upright. Amara, next to Kashkari, had her head bowed, as if in prayer.
Only Kashkari leaned forward in his seat. Now that the news had been broken to Iolanthe at last and his dream described at length, he had reverted back to his composed, determined self. “Remember what I told you, Fairfax, that it isn’t necessary to view a future that has been seen in a vision as set in stone, especially not this one.”
Yet everything he had ever seen had come to pass. Sometimes the true significance of his prophetic dreams had been misunderstood, but what he had dreamed had unfolded exactly as foreseen.
“How should we view this vision then?” asked Master Haywood, his voice tense yet not without hope.
“As I told the prince earlier, we should see this as a warning: instead of heading to Atlantis right away, we should—”
“You were going to Atlantis?” exclaimed Master Haywood.
It took Iolanthe a long moment to remember that he didn’t yet know about this part of her plan. “I’m sorry. There hasn’t been time to tell you.”
The lines on his forehead had never appeared so deeply furrowed, or his eyes so sunken. “But