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most celebrated people on the islands.
    And he was still angry with her.
    Elliot longed for a moment alone to collect herself, but it was impossible. She had to settle her grandfather and direct the Reduced to take the Cloud Fleet’s belongings to the Boatwright house. She had to answer questions for the admiral and his team that Tatiana, despite her status as head of the household, did not understand. She had to make excuses for her father’s absence and assure them that everyone was quite pleased about the rental arrangements and the money and the horses, and that her father’s last-minute trip had nothing whatsoever to do with the Posts’ arrival—and she had to sound more convincing about it than Tatiana. The process took the better part of the afternoon, and through all of it, she didn’t catch another glimpse of Kai.
    Where had he gone? Was he off visiting his old stomping grounds? Had he looked in on Ro? Had he, perhaps, gone to see his former living quarters in the barn? The Posts had seemed surprised that he’d show any interest in the horses, and now Elliot understood their shock. Kai had never cared much for livestock. He far preferred machines to animals, or even plants. But they were being kept in the barn . . .
    Elliot stiffened in her seat as momentary panic gripped her. The door was padlocked. She had nothing to fear. She could afford to sit here quietly and occasionally volunteer answers on the many occasions that Tatiana—the acknowledged hostess—floundered when it came to knowledge of the Boatwright holdings.
    Fortunately, Felicia Innovation’s topics of conversation were far less taxing than her companions’, and they were ones that Tatiana could elaborate on ad nauseum.
    “I have heard tales,” Felicia said to Elliot’s sister, “that the Norths’ star-cavern sanctuary is the most stunning natural formation on this whole island.”
    “Did you?” Tatiana asked, her tone coy. “I was not aware that any Posts had seen it.”
    “My report comes from Baroness Channel,” Felicia replied without missing a beat. “Who visited, I believe, for your mother’s funeral. She is an old friend of mine. The Channel sanctuary is quite lovely,” she went on. “I wonder how they compare.”
    Tatiana blinked. Andromeda smirked. Elliot marveled. She had spent the last four years trying to learn how to properly cajole her father and sister, and here this Post was playing Tatiana like an instrument after only a few minutes’ acquaintance. She doubted her sister would be able to resist this challenge, and indeed, Tatiana could not.
    “Perhaps I should take you on a tour,” she suggested.
    Elliot wondered if Tatiana would inform their father of the plans, and if so, what he’d think of lowly Posts tromping through his ancestral sanctuary.
    “That’s most kind,” Felicia said. “I’m sure we’d love to see it.”
    You’d have to know Tatiana pretty well, Elliot thought, to recognize the look that flashed across her face at the word “we.” It was too quick for the uninitiated to recognize. Still, Andromeda’s eyebrows rose.
    “The acoustics are legendary,” Andromeda said. “Donovan would adore it.”
    “Your brother is a musician as well as an explorer?”
    “My brother would prefer to be a musician, yes.”
    “How unusual for a Post.”
    “Certainly unusual in this area.” It was a pointed statement, given what had happened on the North estate during the bad time. Elliot looked away, into the hearth, remembering the bonfires piled high with illicit pipes and string-boxes—some of those instruments engineered by her own hand.
    And some by Kai’s.
    He must have heard of what had gone on here, Elliot realized. He must have been appalled.
    She took a breath. The fire was dying, and the light outside was fading. She should add more wood. She rose to tend the embers as the conversation went on around her. She couldn’t take this anymore. These subtle jabs, this sharp little dance of