Palamedes grins. It’s probably one of the more genuine smiles that he—or Camilla—has worn in a long time. “Not to play pedant in a time of crisis, Tayray, but I do have to wonder what Johnny and César would think of being called brides.” He taps his finger on his chin as though he were trying to remember the rest. “I believe I grew you a skull. Not quite the finesse of the dancing skeletons I made for Fio, but I was rather intoxicated at the time.”

His good memories of the Serena Eterna are few, but the conversation with Ari had been one of them. Something had been forged between them that, in part, was the reason he had brought her here.

“Oh, certainly, you can speak to her. Call her Camilla; Camilla the Sixth, if you like. ‘Warden’s Hand’ is her title, though she isn’t one for standing on ceremony without good reason.” He tips his head to the side. “Why don’t I let her explain? You might find it interesting to hear it from her perspective.”