The Alcazar

by Amy Ewing

  He set his pale eyes on Agnes and she felt her stomach swoop. “She wants you, Agnes. She has a plan that was left unfinished with Alethea’s death. So my advice to you would be: run. Go to another island, go back to Kaolin, go anywhere but where she wants you to be.”

  “But . . .” Agnes blinked. “I can’t leave. And I won’t go back to Kaolin, not ever. My brother, Leo, he’s been taken by the Triumvirate along with a friend who needs my help. She has to get to Braxos, and not for the reason everyone else is trying to find it. She’s . . . she’s different, she’s special, and I promised that I’d get her there and I can’t abandon her or my brother, not now, not ever.”

  Matthias was quiet. “There is so much of her in your words,” he said at last. “You say you need to get to Braxos to help a friend? Not for riches or glory?”

  Agnes nodded. “I don’t care about any of that.”

  Matthias stood.

  “Then there is something you need to see.”

  17

  Sera

  SERA BATHED IN A LARGE COPPER TUB SIMILAR TO THE one she had used in Agnes’s dwelling.

  She was so grateful to be off Rahel’s ship, to be free of her cabin prison. The three days without Leo had been full of anxiety and fear and exhaustion. She’d hoped perhaps that Leela might speak to her again, but the moonstone had remained frustratingly quiet. Whatever Rahel had told her Misarros about Sera seeing her memories, it had definitely frightened them—the only time she had human contact was when a Misarro would bring food for her, and even then they never fully came into the cabin, just slid a plate through the door, like she might hurt them.

  So much had happened so quickly and she was only just beginning to appreciate it all now that she was no longer headed to the Triumvirate. She could speak Pelagan! And see memories without sharing her own. Sera itched to try this newfound self blood bond again, but a deep part of her knew that this power should not be taken lightly.

  The moonstone was cool in her hand now, at odds with the warm bathwater. She wished she could have seen her mothers as well as Leela, or some part of her City that wasn’t strange and glowing and new, the City that she had known all her life. She remembered what her purple mother had said to her, the day after she was chosen to be sacrificed.

  As long as the stars burn in the sky, I will love you.

  Suddenly, her skin crackled and the moonstone flared up again like it had with Leela, but this time Sera was not pulled to that strange underground sky garden—she did not move at all, could still feel the freesia-scented water lapping against her body. And yet she could see twelve very familiar dwellings, except they weren’t vacant like they usually were. The round birthing houses were covered in chains of flowers, the field with the obelisk full of people. She caught sight of her old friend Treena, now a midwife, with an armful of blankets. Then she gasped. Her purple mother was crossing the field, a bucket of water in one hand.

  “Mother,” she wanted to call, but her lips wouldn’t move.

  Sera was shocked to see how vacant and dark her eyes were. She had never seen her mother look so empty or so sad. Her purple mother paused and turned, staring at the obelisk with a furrowed brow, but then someone called out, “Kandra!” and she roused herself and kept walking, leaving Sera with an aching heart. There was another crackle and the image faded until only the walls of the washroom remained. Sera blinked and found tears in her eyes.

  She looked down at the moonstone lying innocently in her palm. It was all connected, she thought. Leela was right. If she had visions of Sera on the planet and now Sera was having visions of the City . . . perhaps whatever moonstone was left in the City was finally coming alive again. It just took a Cerulean coming to the planet to waken its power.

  The High Priestess would be able to explain all of this, Sera was sure of it. The one person who could not be asked. Sera could not understand what the High Priestess gained in keeping them attached to this planet for so long, but she was certain of one thing. It was more important than ever that she get to the tether.

  Even if she had to break it again, and do it right this time. The City was meant to move.

  She stood and wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel, then froze. Her purple mother had been at the birthing houses. Leela had said a birthing season had begun. Sera had not put it together at first, but . . . that meant her purple mother had been blessed to bear another daughter. She leaned against the wall, her blood rushing in her ears, her magic churning in her veins. Had she been forgotten so quickly? But she recalled the look on her purple mother’s face and something strong and sure inside her said No. Her purple mother would never forget her.

  But did her purple mother know she was alive, like Leela did? If they were friends now—strange as that thought was—wouldn’t Leela have told her?

  There was a light tap on the door. “Are you all done, miss?” the serving girl asked timidly.

  “Yes, I’m coming,” Sera said, pulling herself together.

  The girl led her to an opulent stateroom with a large bed, gilt-framed paintings on the walls, and a velvet-covered love seat beneath a sizable porthole. She brushed Sera’s hair until it shone, pinning up one side with a comb decorated with tiny blue mussel shells and dressing her in soft lavender silk that draped across her chest and left one shoulder bare, clasped at her other shoulder with a heavy brooch fashioned in the shape of a dragonfly. She tried to put a pair of golden sandals on Sera’s feet but she flat-out refused. Cerulean did not wear shoes.

  The servant led her to an even more opulent dining room, ushering her inside and closing the door. A huge oak table with an exquisite candelabra in its center was set for four. Instead of a porthole, there was a long rectangular window covered with delicate latticework. The walls were painted in muted mauve and maroon stripes, the chairs upholstered in burgundy and gold. A large oil painting of a haughty woman with a black dog at her side dominated the wall opposite the window.

  Leo was the only one in the room, dressed in clothes similar to those he’d worn on the journey from Arbaz, though the shirt was pale blue and not cut quite so revealingly; the sash that cinched at his waist was a rich indigo and decorated with tiny crystals like stars. His eyes were lined in kohl and his curls fell loose, a crown of soft white scallop shells nestled among them. When he saw her, his whole face lit up. Sera felt an odd lurch in her chest.

  “Oh, thank god,” he said, hurrying over to her. “This whole day has been surreal, hasn’t it? For a second, I worried my grandmother might have locked you up too.”

  “Do you think she would do that?”

  “No,” Leo said. “She’s just . . . she’s pretty intimidating. But she’s agreed to help us get to Braxos.”

  Sera’s heart leaped. “Oh, Leo!” she exclaimed. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “And for now she’s taking us to Culinnon.”

  “But—but what about Agnes?”

  “Her people will find Agnes,” Leo said. He seemed so sure, but Sera had seen him feign confidence before. “What about you? Rahel didn’t hurt you, did she? She promised me she wouldn’t. But when I saw what you saw in her mind, how brutally she treated that poor servant girl, I thought, I don’t know, maybe she would. She’s certainly capable.”

  “You saw that?” Sera’s head swam. Though she supposed if Leo had been able to witness her meeting with Leela, it might make sense that he’d see the memories alongside her.

  “I guess having your magic inside me comes with all sorts of unexpected side effects,” he said.

  Sera found herself relieved and not unsettled by this connection. She did not mind the thought of having Leo in her head. He could understand her without her needing to explain and there was comfort in that. “Don’t tell your grandmother,” she said suddenly.

  “Of course not,” Leo said, like it had never even occurred to him.

  She took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

  His cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink a
s the door opened and Ambrosine entered the room. She wore a heather-gray gown with ropes of diamonds strung about the waist, and long sheer sleeves. At her throat, a massive diamond pendant gleamed. Her hair was swept up in a net of lacquered jingle shells. A woman in a simple dress of pink satin with a pretty junonia headband followed meekly behind her.

  “Well,” Ambrosine said, her face alight as she took them in. “Don’t you two make a handsome couple.” She turned to the woman. “Don’t they make a handsome couple, Bellamy?”

  Bellamy had features like a mouse, small and furtive. She bobbed her head, a mass of frizzy brown curls. “Very handsome.”

  Sera thought Ambrosine might introduce them all properly but she only clapped her hands and servants spilled into the room, carrying trays and decanters. Ambrosine took her place at the head of the table, Bellamy far away at the opposite end. Leo and Sera took their seats on either side of Ambrosine. Sera could not help wondering why Bellamy was here, and who she was, and why she was sitting so far away from them.

  “Leo told me you are vegetarian,” Ambrosine said.

  Sera flashed Leo a smile and he looked almost bashful.

  “I didn’t want you to be deprived of a meal,” he said.

  “Of course, it is no problem at all,” Ambrosine said with a wave of her hand. “My chef is one of the most skilled in Pelago. If you said you only eat rocks, I’m sure she would have whipped up a delicacy of pebbles.”

  The servants laid a plate in front of Sera—it was filled with a colorful salad of radish and heirloom tomato with a drizzle of lemon oil and a smattering of fresh herbs. It smelled delicious. Sera took a bite and had to suppress a moan of pleasure. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Ambrosine said.

  “Very,” Sera said as another servant poured her a flute of pale gold sparkling wine.

  “Now this is called scintillant,” Ambrosine said as her own glass was filled. “It is made from a very special grape that only grows on Culinnon. It is the most coveted wine in all of Pelago.” She raised her glass. “To family and new friends. May you both find everlasting happiness and peace here.”

  The wine was delicious, Sera had to admit—like peaches dipped in nectar, and it fizzed on her tongue.

  “You will love Culinnon when you see it,” Ambrosine continued. “Won’t they love Culinnon, Bellamy?”

  The mousy woman nearly dropped her fork at being addressed. “Yes. Very much. It is truly a magical place.”

  Leo and Sera exchanged a glance.

  “But it is Braxos you need to get to,” Ambrosine said to Sera. “How remarkable that it appeared just as you . . . arrived.” Sera had never thought of it like that—that her presence on the planet had something to do with the reveal of Braxos.

  “Yes, I suppose it is,” she said, taking another sip of wine.

  “As I was telling Bellamy earlier, it is simply marvelous that we have a chance to help my grandson’s friend. His return to Pelago is a gift to the family, a gift that will only grow once dear Agnes is found and can join us.”

  “A gift,” Bellamy agreed. Ambrosine’s eyes flashed and the woman looked down at her plate, quickly shoving a tomato in her mouth.

  “Are there more of your kind on Braxos?” Ambrosine asked, turning back to Sera.

  She shook her head. “My City is tethered there. I am the only Cerulean on this planet.”

  “Fascinating.” Ambrosine tapped her jaw with a bony finger. “Well, I have plenty of ships that can take us. I’ve lost some, of course, trying to find Braxos myself.” She said it dismissively, but Sera got the sense that she was more upset by the loss than she let on. “But now you are here and can show us the way. I assume you know the way?”

  Sera blinked but Leo said, “Of course she does.” Sera was grateful that she didn’t have to lie, but she didn’t know how to get to Braxos any more than Ambrosine. She hoped Agnes would not abandon Errol. He was their only hope.

  Sera also did not like the thought of taking Ambrosine to Braxos—but she was not in a position to do much about it. They needed to get past Culinnon and they needed a ship.

  “You know, there are so many tales of the Lost Islands in this country,” Ambrosine said as their salads were cleared and a second course of hazelnut profiteroles with blue cheese and grapes was set before them. “Many that involve the Byrnes directly, though we don’t like to talk about that with outsiders. But since we are among family and . . .” She turned to Sera with a smile that felt vaguely poisonous. “Close friends, there’s no harm in a little storytelling, is there? Perhaps you, Sera, can add your own tales as well.”

  “Are you family?” Leo asked, turning to Bellamy.

  She started. “I’m—”

  “Bellamy is my son Hektor’s wife,” Ambrosine said. “I take her with me whenever I travel. She brings me such comfort.”

  The words held the indistinct shadow of a threat. Bellamy’s shoulders tensed and her lips twitched.

  Ambrosine picked up the conversation as if there had not been any interruption. “There are stories of riches, of course, wealth beyond measure that await those who find a Lost Island, but those are dull. In the Byrne family, however, we know of an inexplicable power that resides there. Some say it is the power of time—past, present, and future accessible all at once. Or else the gift of immortality. Or perhaps the ability to compel those you wish to obey you. No one knows for sure.” She looked to Sera, as if hoping she might affirm or contradict these tales.

  “On Adereen they say the Lost Islands can allow you to speak to those who are dead,” Bellamy piped up, then looked like she immediately regretted it.

  “Why would you bring up such a sad topic over dinner?” Ambrosine snapped. “And in front of our honored guest? My sincerest apologies, Sera. Bellamy is not from a particularly noble family. Her manners can be atrocious at times.”

  “It’s all right,” Sera said. She wasn’t offended in the slightest and tried to express that to Bellamy with her eyes, but the woman would not meet her gaze.

  “My daughter-in-law is a little out of sorts, I’m afraid. She and my son have been trying to have a child for years. She miscarried again recently, her sixth.”

  “Seventh.” Bellamy barely whispered the word and yet Sera felt her own heart crack with the pain of it.

  Ambrosine sighed and finished her wine as the main course of spinach and mushroom pie was set before them. “I admit we’ve all been a little worried, haven’t we, Bellamy? But now, Leo, you are back, and Agnes too. All the Byrnes back where they ought to be. What a relief. I’m sure Alethea would have wanted you to see her home, to meet her family, to . . . to spend time connecting with your Byrne heritage.” She paused. “Family is everything, isn’t it?”

  Bellamy looked close to tears. Ambrosine’s remarks felt like needles, small but sharp.

  “Now,” Ambrosine said, cutting into her pie. “Sera, do tell me some about your City. Leo was frustratingly vague earlier.”

  Sera flashed him a grateful look and he gave a small shrug as if to say, of course. She told simple details, of the seresheep meadows and the stargem mines, the gold-tipped temple of Mother Sun and the great rush of the Estuary. She did not mention her magic or the sacrifice that caused her to come to the planet in the first place. By the time dessert was served, Sera felt exhausted.

  “My goodness, look at the time,” Ambrosine said, taking her last bite of raspberry sponge. “You both must be more than ready for bed.”

  As if on cue, Leo let out a wide yawn. “Sorry,” he said. “We haven’t slept well the past few days.”

  “Bellamy will escort you to your rooms,” Ambrosine said. “I’ve lodged you on the same hall. I thought you would wish to be near each other. You seem such close friends.”

  Leo’s cheeks turned pink, the way they did when he was embarrassed. They were close friends, though, weren’t they? So why did it make Sera’s tummy go all wriggly?

  Bellamy led t
hem to their rooms in silence. Sera was trying to think of something to say to her when she stopped abruptly.

  “Here you are,” she said. “I hope you had a pleasant dinner.”

  The words were mechanical, more obligation than warmth.

  “It was very nice,” Sera said. “I wish we could have spoken with you more.”

  Bellamy gazed at the red-carpeted floor. “She doesn’t like it when I talk.”

  “We noticed,” Leo said dryly.

  “You must miss your husband very much,” Sera said. “If Ambrosine always brings you with her when she travels.”

  Bellamy’s eyes filled with tears. “She likes to take me away from him,” she said. “A punishment.”

  “A punishment for what?” Sera asked.

  “For marrying me.” Bellamy ducked her head. “Good night.” Then she turned and scurried down the hall.

  Sera and Leo looked at each other.

  “For being all about family, Ambrosine doesn’t like her own daughter-in-law much,” Leo mused.

  “No,” Sera agreed. “Poor thing.”

  “Ambrosine’s going to be disappointed when she realizes you don’t know how to get to Braxos.”

  “I know,” she said wearily. “But we can face that hurdle another time.”

  Leo chuckled. “True. Let’s get some sleep.” As she moved to open her door, he said, “Sera?”

  She turned and he was looking at her strangely, in a way that made her feel like her insides had turned to clouds, airy and weightless. “Yes?”

  He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful tonight.”

  “Oh.” Her heart picked up speed in her chest. “Thank you,” she said. “So do you.”