Mistress Culpepper came knocking early and told us Adelaide needed to be downstairs in thirty minutes for a meeting with the Thorns in their private office. We were released from our confinement and allowed to clean up in the washrooms, but the bodyguards still hovered in the hallway. Adelaide’s hysteria had faded, and she stood ready to face what was to come. There was no sign of last night’s tears, and she strode down the stairs with her head high.

   The other girls were already up, lingering in the foyer or parlor or anywhere that kept them within sight of the office. Once Adelaide had gone inside it and shut the door, I stood in the hallway opposite it and crossed my arms over my chest.

   My defensive stance made the others steer clear of me, though I saw a few eye me curiously, no doubt hoping I had some new piece of the story. I stared straight ahead and stayed silent, even when I heard Clara recounting a very exaggerated, very unflattering version of what had happened last night.

   I only broke my silence to ask loudly, “What were you doing in the attic last night anyway, Clara?” When she promptly stopped her story, I suspected I wasn’t the only one who had discovered the trellis.

   Things got more interesting when Warren Doyle and his mother showed up at the front door, insisting they speak with Charles and Jasper.

   “I—I’m sorry,” said Mistress Culpepper, more flustered than I’d ever seen. “Mister Charles and Mister Jasper are currently engaged with, ah, Mister Cedric and Miss Bailey.”

   But after a quick check with the Thorns, the Doyles were admitted to the office. I wondered how they could have found out so soon. Certainly not from us cloistered girls. The bodyguards, I supposed. This was good gossip for a festival night.

   “Who in the world is that now?” exclaimed Mistress Culpepper when another knock sounded. “Does everyone in the city know? Answer it, Judith.”

   When Miss Bradley opened the door, it was obvious those waiting outside weren’t from Cape Triumph. Three men and a woman in plainly cut clothing of blue-gray wool stood on the front porch, their expressions solemn. One man looked a little older than me. His companions were middle-aged. I glanced beyond them in astonishment. More people—a lot more people—dressed in similar clothing stretched out into the house’s yard. Most appeared to be women.

   The younger man took off his hat, revealing neatly cut blond hair. “Good morning, Mistress. My name is Gideon Stewart. Can you tell me if this is the household of Mister Charles Th—”

   “Winnifred! Joan!”

   Martha came tearing across the room, and suddenly, two very pretty girls pushed past the men in the doorway and ran to her. And then more girls came in. And more. All were drably dressed in variants of blue and gray, but as I took in their ages and beauty, I knew who they were. The foyer filled up, and I had to stand on my tiptoes to find who I sought over the crowd—but there she was, all the way in the back of the group, not even inside the house yet.

   I felt weak for a moment, like my knees would give out, and then a burst of energy jolted me to life. I couldn’t get across the foyer easily, so instead, I ran to the office door and threw it open. Adelaide sat with the Thorns and the Doyles, and all looked up in astonishment at my entrance.

   Jasper scowled. “I told you lot not to—”

   “They’re here!” I cried. “They’re here! I don’t understand it, but they’re here.”

   “Who?” he demanded.

   “The other girls! The other ship.” I looked at Adelaide, needing her to understand how crucial this was. “Adelaide, Tamsin’s alive!”

   Everyone in the room sprang out of their seats and into the packed foyer. Adelaide was right beside me as we sprinted across the room, pushing our way through as we desperately tried to see if the impossible was truly possible. And it wasn’t just us. Chaos reigned.

   Every time I’d lost someone, the same questions always tormented me. I’d ponder if I could have done anything differently. I’d ask myself if it was fair that I lived while they died. I wondered how I was going to get through without them.

   But I’d never asked what would happen if one of these people came back. Because no matter how much their loss hurt me or how much I ruminated over what had happened, I’d always accepted that it had happened. It was done and over. No one came back from death.

   And yet . . . Tamsin stood right in front of me.

   We couldn’t stop hugging each other. The three of us laughed, cried, and babbled apologies that none of us heard. We were too consumed with each other, too caught up in the miracle that somehow, against all understanding, we’d been reunited.

   “Friends! Friends!” Jasper had climbed on top of a chair and was attempting to be heard over the commotion. “You’re witnessing a miracle right before our eyes. Something none of us thought possible. I’ve just learned that—as you can no doubt tell—the Gray Gull wasn’t lost at sea! It sustained great damage in the storm and was blown off course—far, far north to the colony of Grashond.”

   Adelaide’s shock mirrored my own. Tamsin’s grim nod told us he spoke the truth.

   “Who do I have to thank for this?” exclaimed Jasper. “Who do I have to thank for saving my girls?”

   The young man who’d first spoken at the door—Gideon Stewart—was singled out and promptly became Jasper’s favorite person in the world. Jasper swept him and the other leaders from Grashond away, showering them with gratitude and promises of gifts.

   “They won’t take anything,” said Tamsin. She pulled a white kerchief off her head and shook her fiery hair free. “They saw it as their duty from Uros to bring us here.”

   She seemed understandably happy to be here, but there was a weariness—both physical and mental—in her that was impossible to miss. “We shouldn’t be standing around like this,” I said. “Everyone should be resting. And eating too. When was the last time you ate?”