by Amy Ewing
He would be a fool not to want you back, my darling, she could hear her say. She smiled and clutched the moonstone.
The knock on her door startled her. “Who is it?” she called.
“It’s me,” Leo said, and Sera’s heart leaped like a sun trout jumping for a fly.
“Oh,” she said, standing so quickly she felt dizzy. She opened the door and the sight of him, in a sweater the color of the sea and his curls tied back in a low ponytail, set her mouth watering. What an unexpected reaction. Desire made her all out of sorts.
“I thought maybe we could explore the Arboreal grove together,” Leo said. “I can see it from my room; I don’t think we need Mckenna’s company.”
Sera would be happy to never have Mckenna’s company again—she nodded and said, “Let me put on a cloak.”
She chose a plum-colored velvet from the armoire by the fireplace, her hands shaking as she slipped it on. They walked down the staircase in silence—was Sera imagining it or did Leo keep glancing at her every so often? But perhaps because she was being unusually quiet.
“Your grandmother has a very nice house,” she said.
Leo laughed and the sound sent little shivers over her skin. “I don’t know if house is the word I’d use,” he said. “But it’s certainly impressive.”
They stepped out into the cold air and followed a simple flagstone path that led them to the Arboreal grove. Seeing so many of them together made her heart seize up and tears fill her eyes. Their faces were just like Boris’s, three eyes that formed a triangle and an odd slash for a mouth.
“Incredible,” Leo said, marveling at the blue-green canopy overhead.
They walked deeper into the grove, Sera touching each trunk lightly as she passed, and she felt the Arboreals stir, their leaves rustling, and without consciously thinking it, she called on the seeds of light and love as she had done with Boris. It was so much easier this time, she thought as she held her palms up, her magic slipping through her skin as lightly as a thread through a needle. Leo gaped as tiny glowing seeds with feathery stems floated up and away, filling the grove with their light and melting into the Arboreals’ leaves where they touched them. Sera heard creaking, tree-ish gasps of delight and cries of, “Seeds! Seeds of light and love.”
“What are they saying?” Leo asked. Sera found she could not look at him. It was easier to focus on the Arboreals.
“They call my magic seeds of light and love,” she explained. “And they are full of joy to see them.”
The closest tree turned its ancient eyes toward her.
“Mother,” it said. That was the same thing Boris had said to her, when she’d first heard the Arboreal speak. She didn’t understand it any more now than she had then, and though she knew this tree was not Boris, she could not stop herself from wrapping her arms around its trunk.
“I have known one of you,” she whispered to it, her voice coming out in the wind-like rush of the Arboreal language. “And she saved my life by sacrificing her own. She was the bravest soul I have ever met. I am so sorry.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks and she felt a branch bend to gently brush her hair.
“Ahhh,” the Arboreal whispered. “The eldest of us, the one who was taken. Do not cry, sapling. She was blessed to have known you.”
“Mother,” another Arboreal said, and then another, and another.
“Why do you call me that?” Sera asked.
“You bring us the seeds of light and love,” one Arboreal murmured.
“Seeds of light and love as we once knew,” a second said. “So that we may grow throughout this earth as we were meant to. We have been on this island for so long.”
“You are not meant to be here?” Sera asked.
The first Arboreal’s eyes turned sad. “We are meant to be everywhere. We come from another island, far away in the north.”
“Braxos,” Sera said eagerly. “I am trying to get there. My home is attached to that island.”
“Home,” the first said mournfully, and the others picked up the call.
“Home.”
Sera had forgotten how frustrating speaking with an Arboreal could be. She kept walking, telling Leo what they’d said to her as murmurs of “Home” and “Mother” followed them. Part of her wished she had come alone—she felt a deep connection with this grove, like a natural blood bond, almost as if she truly was their mother, reunited with her children at last. But that was only the fear talking, she thought. Her magic was zipping and prickling, focused on Leo even as she wandered among the trees.
She passed an Arboreal who seemed smaller and younger than the others, and it reached out a branch to touch her shoulder.
“She wants the island too,” the tree whispered, as if telling a secret. “She claims she is our mother but she is not. She thinks to find more there.”
“Who?” Sera asked, though she thought she knew. “Ambrosine?”
The tree just stared at her, and Sera knew she was right.
“What do you mean, more?” she asked. “What more does she hope to find on Braxos?”
“More of us,” the Arboreal said. “More of the fish that talk with lights. More of everything. More more more. Humans have so much. If only they could see. But always they want more. She has so many of us and yet she will not share. She keeps us all together, all here, all hers.” A leaf fluttered and Sera reached out to catch it. It was soft as her cloudspun dresses back home, and brighter than a jewel.
“Not that one, though,” the tree said, and its eyes were focused on a spot behind Sera and its mouth moved in what she thought was meant to be a smile. “That young sapling has only one desire. You.”
Sera turned. Leo was watching her from several feet away, and the look in his eyes made her head spin, her heart throwing itself against her chest as though trying to escape. For a long moment they both just stared at each other. Sera knew she should walk toward him—walking was not so difficult. Or she should speak to him, as she had spoken to him many times before. But everything that had once seemed so natural now felt insurmountable.
“What did that one say to you?” he asked, his voice rough.
Sera’s throat went tight. “That humans have so much,” she said, not sounding at all like herself, but breathless and shivery. “Yet they always want more. Not you, though. She says you only want one thing.”
“What’s that?”
Sera swallowed. “Me.”
Leo’s cheeks flushed pink and she understood it now, all those blushes, the delicate color she loved so much. She finally found her legs, taking one step forward and then another. Leo was frozen, watching her as wary as a wounded animal being stalked by a predator. Her body was moving of its own accord now and it didn’t stop until she was standing right in front of him, so close she could feel the heat of his body, could see every detail of his face. His eyelashes were so long and so black. Had she ever noticed that before? It was like there were bees buzzing in her rib cage, making everything heightened and jittery and just a little blurry. Her eyes found their way to his mouth and she swallowed again, hard.
Leo’s brow furrowed as if he could not quite understand what was happening. He smelled faintly of wool and leather and something musky that she felt was decidedly Leo. He looked ever so slightly helpless; Sera felt vulnerable too, as if just standing here in front of him was the equivalent of unzipping her skin and letting him see every part of who she was. But he knew who she was. And she knew him. All of him, the good parts and the bad.
With feather-light hesitation, she pressed her lips gently against his.
26
Leo
SERA WAS KISSING HIM.
Sera. Was. Kissing. Him.
His hands moved to cup her face, her skin so soft, her hair like strands of silk, her flower-starlight scent engulfing him. She tasted of sunshine and honey.
How many times had he imagined this moment? He’d been with lots of girls back in Old Port, but that was different. He hadn’t truly cared
about any of them. He wasn’t sure he’d ever truly cared about anyone at all until Sera fell into the Knottle Plains and his whole life had shifted course.
Kissing Sera was something entirely new. This was a tingling upside-down, inside-out, disorienting joy that was so sharp it could almost be confused for fear. Her lips were timid, and he held her gently, as if afraid she might break. But then he felt something in her surge, and she was winding her arms around his neck and pulling him closer and his tongue slipped into her mouth and she gasped and sank her fingers into his curls. Leo’s hand slid down her back, feeling the length of her spine beneath her dress and wishing there was nothing between them at all. He wanted to know her, to know every part of her. He wanted to taste her kindness and the backs of her knees and the generosity of her heart and the curve of her shoulder blades. He wanted to live in this spot under the turquoise canopy of the Arboreals and never leave.
Culinnon, Ambrosine, Braxos, the tether . . . it all ceased to exist. There was only Sera.
Even if this was all he got of her, even if he had to let her go at the end of this journey . . . it was enough. It was enough to have kissed her, to have held her close, to have felt her breathing against him. It was enough.
How long they stood and kissed, he didn’t know. But at some point, the Arboreals around them began to speak in that strange tree language, and they broke apart.
“What are they saying?” Leo asked.
“They are happy we are happy,” Sera said.
“Oh.” Leo hadn’t been thinking they’d had an audience. “Thanks,” he said to the trees, and Sera laughed.
“They cannot understand you,” she said.
“Right.” He honestly didn’t care if all the Arboreals and mertags and strange things in the world were watching them right now. He was acutely aware of every place Sera was touching him, of her chest pressed against his and her hands on his back.
She said something then in their own language and the trees rustled back at her. Before Leo could ask her what she’d said, she was smiling up at him with a look that was at once daring and shy, and he cradled her neck and pulled her in for another kiss. He felt he could spend the rest of his life kissing Sera and not feel the time wasted. She pressed her cheek to his, her breath tickling his ear.
“I never thought to be kissed,” she murmured. “I quite like it.”
One of the Arboreals began to hum—a rustling, whistling sound like dry leaves skittering down a sidewalk in the fall. But the tune was sweet and simple and one by one the other Arboreals picked it up until they were enveloped in song.
All of a sudden, hundreds of tiny sprites, golden and shimmering, emerged from beneath the roots of the trees, scampering and floating and twirling to surround Leo and Sera.
“Sprites!” she cried with delight, clapping her hands together.
One landed on Leo’s palm and did a little jig while two more alighted on Sera’s shoulder. One doffed its tiny crown as it bowed to her; the other did a dainty pirouette. Sera laughed and they set off spinning and whirling, emitting tiny sparks as they soared.
“They’re dancing for you,” Leo said.
“It’s more than a dance,” Sera said. “It’s something else.”
And Leo saw the sprites forming something; a shape began to appear, a trunk, branches, golden leaves . . .
“Oh,” Sera gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. “It’s Boris.”
Leo had not known the old tree the same way Sera had, but he’d spent a fair amount of time with Boris, and while the Arboreals all looked fairly similar, he was able to distinguish the difference in the tree the sprites were making. It was Boris, right down to her sad wise eyes. The sprite-Arboreal swayed in the wind, and it seemed to Leo that she was happy to see Sera.
The other trees around them began to sing again.
“What are they saying?” Leo asked.
A thick tear rolled down Sera’s cheek. “They are honoring her spirit. They are comforting each other, and reminding each other not to mourn her loss. They did not know she had died until I came here, but they have been missing her. She has not gone, they say—she lives on in every tree and root and branch, in the whisper of the wind and patter of the rain and the rays of the sun. She will always be here.”
The sprite-Boris craned its branches toward Sera and she reached out and touched a leaf with a gentle silver finger. The sprites exploded in a shower of golden sparks, the shade of Boris vanishing into a thousand dying embers.
Abruptly, the trees stopped singing. The silence was so sharp and immediate it almost hurt Leo’s ears. He and Sera turned to find Hektor standing in the clearing, his expression somehow impressed and disdainful at the same time.
“You have a connection with the Arboreals,” he said to Sera.
“I knew one in Old Port,” she said.
“Of course. Xavier’s show.” He turned to Leo. “I was wondering if I might speak with you a moment.”
Leo did not want to leave Sera right now, especially not to spend time with this stern stranger-uncle, but Sera nudged him and said, “Go. I will be right here.”
“All right,” Leo said. Hektor nodded curtly and turned, leaving Leo to follow after him. He wound his way through the trees until they came to a small pond at the base of a hill. A waterfall splashed into it on one side, and pure white rocks scattered around its edge like misshapen pillows. The water was a rich midnight blue and tiny lights glimmered from within it like stars.
“Fascinating, isn’t it,” Hektor said. “Culinnon is filled with so many beautiful things, things you would never find anywhere else on this planet.”
“It’s certainly unique,” Leo said.
“It’s a prison,” Hektor snapped. “A very pretty one, but a prison nonetheless. But at least it was meant to be mine. Now you are here.”
“I’m not inheriting Culinnon,” Leo said. “And Agnes and I didn’t even know about this island till we arrived in Arbaz.”
Hektor ran a hand over his sleek black hair. “Forgive me,” he said. “I have no skill with words. That’s Matthias’s gift. It was Alethea’s too—though she was gifted at just about everything. Used to drive me crazy.” He took a breath. “Bellamy said you were very kind to her on the journey. I thank you for that.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” Leo said. “She’s a nice person.”
Hektor’s lips twitched. “I admit, I was expecting you to be more like your father.”
“I used to try to be,” Leo said. “Back in Old Port. It didn’t really work out. As it happens, my father is quite a prick.”
Hektor laughed, and for a moment his whole face changed. “He is,” he agreed. Then he stared at Leo, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t help—you look so much like—”
“It’s fine,” Leo said, holding up a hand. “I’m kind of used to it by now.”
“She was very special,” Hektor said. “Full of light, full of life. Mother had so much expectation pinned on her—even after she married Xavier, even after she left Pelago, Mother still hoped. And then Alethea died and that hope shattered. It isn’t easy, being the eldest son. Matthias ran away, he could do that, but not me. I had to stay and get married and continue the family line. Family is everything.”
“Yes, Ambrosine seemed pretty clear about that on the way here.”
Hektor’s dark eyes flashed as they held Leo’s. “Family is everything,” he said again, slowly. “I do not know if Bellamy will ever be able to conceive. And I do not think Matthias will ever love anyone but his books. But the Byrne line must continue. My mother will insist upon it.”
Leo blinked. “Sorry, what?”
“I didn’t take you for an idiot,” Hektor said. “The Byrne line must continue. That will start with you.”
Leo felt as if the ground had just disappeared beneath his feet. “Are you saying . . . look, I’m only eighteen! And I just got here, for god’s sake. I’m not some . .
. some . . . stud to be let out for breeding. There’s a girl back there who—”
“Exactly,” his uncle said, cutting him off. “There’s a girl back there, a very special girl, who would create a very special line.”
“That’s disgusting,” Leo spat. “How can you even think that?”
“I’m not thinking it,” he said. “My mother is.”
“And you’re, what, trying to help me out by giving me a heads-up?”
Hektor looked at him like he was utterly stupid. “Yes, Leo. That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“Sera’s going home,” Leo said, feeling a bit like a petulant boy.
Hektor raised one eyebrow. “You really think my mother will let that girl leave? A girl who looks like a goddess? A girl with a connection to Braxos?”
It was just what Bellamy had said too. Leo’s nostrils flared. “This planet doesn’t deserve her,” he muttered.
Hektor’s face softened. “You care for her very much, that is clear. My mother delights in using the things we care about against us. Especially since she lost Alethea. And she is a very powerful woman.”
“Sera has power too,” Leo said, then wished that he hadn’t.
“Yes,” Hektor said with a sigh. “I’m certain she does.”
He left Leo abruptly, as if he had said all he needed to and there was no reason for a goodbye. Sera found him there after a while, sitting on a smooth white rock and staring into the pond filled with stars.
“What did your uncle want?” she asked.
Leo could not bring himself to tell her the full truth. “Just to warn me that Ambrosine is powerful and won’t want you to leave Culinnon.”
“Well,” Sera said, sitting beside him. “We knew that already.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and she melted against him. It made Hektor’s warning all the worse.
“I like this island,” she said. “But it seems sad. Beautiful, but sad.”
“Hektor says it’s like a prison.”
“Hm. Yes, maybe it is. It reminds me of a caged bird, something pretty but trapped, struggling to be free.”
