The Cerulean

by Amy Ewing

  This was all rather more information than Agnes found herself able to process. Sera seemed to realize this—she sat back and scratched her neck, her face pensive.

  “Hmm,” she mused. “This is a lot to explain.”

  “Yes,” Agnes agreed. She tried to organize her thoughts, but they remained stubbornly scattered. “Who were those women with the ribbons around their necks?”

  Sera’s expression grew mournful. “Those are my mothers. Two of them, at least.”

  “How many do you have?” she asked incredulously.

  “Three. Purple, orange, and green. For the three Moon Daughters. But that’s not how it works here, right? Here you have a mother and a father.”

  “Yes, that’s right,” Agnes said, feeling faint. Three mothers? What were moon daughters?

  “My City is tethered to this planet, you see,” Sera continued. “And I was chosen to be sacrificed to break the tether so it could move to a new planet, but . . . I didn’t do it right and I fell into that hole that you and Leo found me in. So now I need to know if the tether is still there or if another Cerulean has been chosen, and the sacrifice worked, and the City is lost to me forever, traveling through the vast expanse of space to find a new home.” Her tone shifted throughout this speech and ended on a melancholy note.

  “You were sacrificed?” Agnes cried.

  “I was chosen,” Sera said, “by Mother Sun, to throw myself from the dais in the Night Gardens.”

  “And you did?” Agnes knew the answer to that, of course, but still . . . she saw this sweet, slender girl in a whole new light.

  Sera nodded. “But I was meant to die, to spill my blood and break the tether, and clearly that did not happen.” She put her hands on Agnes’s knees. “It is such a joy to be able to speak to you. You have no idea how hard it is to not be understood.”

  Agnes knew that somewhere inside, she was happy about this development too, but she couldn’t seem to settle on any one emotion right now.

  “And this city . . . it’s in the sky?”

  “Above the sky,” Sera clarified. “In space.”

  “And this tether, what does it look like?”

  “Like a finely wrought chain of magic,” she said, as if that should explain it. “In links of blue and silver and gold.”

  “And it’s attached to our planet? This planet? To Kaolin?”

  Sera sighed. “I do not know where the tether has buried itself. It could be in Kaolin, but it could be in Pelago. Or it could be in the middle of the ocean. That’s why I need to see.” She looked at the windowless walls around them.

  “Well, I can certainly help you look for it,” Agnes said.

  “No, you can’t. It is invisible to human eyes. Only a Cerulean will be able to see it.”

  Agnes supposed that the papers would have already reported if a chain of magic shooting down from space had been discovered.

  “I wish I could see it,” she said. “Your city. I want to understand . . . where you come from, who you are. This is all pretty overwhelming.”

  Sera went silent and stared at her hands. Agnes realized this was pretty overwhelming for her, too.

  “Maybe I can show you.”

  “That glowing thing again?” Agnes asked with trepidation.

  “Yes.” Sera’s fingertip lit up. “I think . . . if I focus on what I want . . .”

  She did not sound nearly sure enough of herself for Agnes’s liking, and she had no desire to have her memories probed again.

  Describe in detail the bravest thing you have ever done in the name of science.

  The essay subject popped into her head, and she saw it in a new light. Was she really going to run from this new, albeit frightening, discovery? This was more important than an essay or an interview or even studying at the University of Ithilia at all. This was her chance to help someone, a person who had no one else on the entire planet but her. Was she a mouse, like Vada had said? Was the fear of someone uncovering a few embarrassing moments or the secret of her sexuality going to keep her from exploring an entirely new world?

  “I can do it, Agnes,” Sera said, her face set. “I can feel it. I . . . I’m stronger on this planet in some ways. I understand myself now, I think, or a little better at least. I can show you. I will show you.”

  It seemed they were both entering uncharted territory. With grim determination, Agnes pressed her finger once more against Sera’s.

  The heat was bearable this time, maybe because she was better prepared for it. It raced up her arm, dancing in her veins and closing around her heart. The sense of being an empty vessel was not as unpleasant now that she had some small concept of what was happening, and when her body jerked and her mind was transported to another place, she stared around in wonder and did not question what she was seeing.

  She was standing beside Sera on a small island in front of a tall building, shaped like an upside-down cone and made of thick glass with golden doors. It reached up high into the sky, but this sky wasn’t blue and dotted with clouds, it was just . . . space. Stars and darkness. A luminescent butterfly flitted past, its wings flashing blues and yellows. There was a hedge surrounding part of the structure in a semicircle. Agnes could see at least two arching white bridges connecting the island to the land across the river, where other structures sat, little domes that must be houses—they were made of glass too. Many had gardens surrounding them.

  The temperature was mild, the air fresh and crisp like newly washed sheets. The grass was a vibrant green and it looked so springy Agnes felt she would bounce if she stepped on it.

  There were no people.

  “This is the City Above the Sky,” Sera said, and her connection to the place was palpable.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “I don’t know.” She looked at her palms. “I am still figuring out how my magic works, its capabilities. Cerulean do not go down onto planets any longer. I am discovering things that my green mother could not have prepared me for.”

  “Why don’t you go down onto planets? How many planets have you been to?” Agnes found the questions piling up in her mind, and she had to bite her lip to keep from asking them all at once.

  “I have only ever known this planet,” Sera explained. “We have been tethered here for over nine hundred years.”

  “You’re nine hundred years old?”

  She laughed. “No! I am not yet eighteen. But the High Priestess has been alive since the planet before this. She is ancient.”

  Agnes decided to let that one go for now.

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the cone. It sharpened into a golden point at the very top.

  “That’s the temple of Mother Sun. It lies in the center of the City.”

  “Who’s Mother Sun?”

  Sera took a moment before responding. “She is everything,” she said.

  Agnes was not as interested in gods as she was in the logistics of this place. “What is this temple made of?”

  “Sunglass,” Sera said, as if it were obvious.

  Observe, Agnes thought. Don’t disturb.

  The steps of the temple were smooth, the doors engraved in markings, geometric shapes, spirals and slashes and squiggled lines. Some seemed to glow when she looked at them, others to fade. They looked sort of like the symbols Sera had scratched in the dirt of the truck bed.

  “I used to climb up there all the time,” Sera said, gazing up at the golden spire twinkling overhead. “It made my orange mother furious, but I couldn’t help myself. It was the best place to see the stars.”

  Agnes felt that any spot in this city would be an excellent vantage point for stargazing. The stars around them were big and bright, not like the tiny pinpricks visible from Old Port at night.

  “Do you think you could show me what happened to you?” she asked.

  Sera closed her eyes and a tear fell onto her cheek.

  Agnes suddenly found herself kneeling inside the circular room she’d seen in Sera’s memory earlier, with t
he painted ceiling. Every inch of space was filled with silver-skinned, blue-haired women. There were no men.

  Sera was kneeling beside her, surrounded by three women, each with a different color ribbon around their necks. Agnes recognized the purple and orange women. The green one was new. These must be Sera’s mothers.

  Another woman stood at a podium, leaning over an ancient, crumbling bowl filled with light. There was something regal about her, something that declared power and demanded reverence—Agnes wondered if this was the High Priestess Sera had mentioned, except that she did not look nine hundred years old. The light in the bowl went out. The woman called Sera’s name.

  The room dissolved, and Agnes found herself in one of the glass houses, standing in front of a mirror beside Sera. The three mothers were there too. Sera wore the very same robe she was wearing in Kaolin except it was fresh and clean. The clumsy embroidery matched the bracelets on her wrist: purple, green, and orange. The bracelets were gone now, Agnes realized, as was the necklace; her father’s men must have taken them. There was so much love in this room, it hurt her chest to contain it.

  “You have been our sun, Sera Lighthaven,” the woman with the orange ribbon said. She was older than the other two and her eyes glittered with tears. “You have been the light in our world.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, then stopped herself. “Are you ready to go to the Night Gardens?”

  Sera did not look ready at all. Agnes’s pulse quickened.

  “Yes, Mother,” Sera whispered.

  Then Agnes was in the most exquisite garden she had ever seen. Snow-white lilies, dark purple dahlias, and soft gray roses were all mixed together with other flowers Agnes couldn’t name, flowers that couldn’t actually exist—buds that lit up like glowing sapphires floating through the air, flowers as big as hibiscuses but that shone like the full moon on a cloudless night, trees with silver trunks and leaves as black as pitch. The garden was full of people, like the temple had been. She stood with Sera on a glass dais that jutted out over a waterfall. Beyond her was nothing except the dizzying vastness of space. Beside her was the regal woman from the temple who had called Sera’s name.

  “Today is a momentous day!” she cried. “The beginning of a new chapter for our beloved City, at long last. This ceremony will free us from the bonds to this planet as Mother Sun will guide us to our new home. All praise her everlasting light!”

  “Praise her!” the crowd cried back.

  Agnes watched in horror as the woman took out a knife and cut Sera’s arms, just inside her elbows.

  She caught sight of a young girl in the crowd that she recognized—it was the girl she had been racing along the banks of the river in Sera’s memory. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  She saw the mother with the purple ribbon clutch at her heart, as if trying to keep it inside her chest.

  Then Sera turned and threw herself off the dais.

  Agnes screamed, her eyes flying open, and she was back in the bathroom on Creekwater Row. Her heart was beating against her rib cage with enough force to make her vision blur. It took several deep breaths before she was able to form a coherent thought.

  “You’re telling me,” she said, panting, “that somewhere . . . up there . . . is that place? That . . . city?” It seemed the wrong word for it—it was so much more beautiful and wondrous than any city Agnes had ever seen or heard of.

  “I think so,” Sera said. “But I do not know.”

  Agnes was reeling at everything this girl had gone through, the devastating loss she had suffered.

  “I’ll help you find this tether,” she vowed, taking Sera’s hands in her own. “I’ll help you get home if I can.” She was suddenly grateful Vada’s ship wasn’t leaving right away. She could not abandon Sera, not now. She had never felt so connected to someone, even though they had only just met.

  Sera smiled, and there were tears in her eyes. “You are as kind as Leela, Agnes. And that is the highest compliment I can pay.”

  “Who is Leela?”

  “My best friend.”

  Agnes knew instinctively that she was talking about the girl she’d seen crying at the sacrifice and found she did not mind the comparison.

  A knocking on the door made them both jump.

  “Are you nearly done in there?” Hattie’s voice seemed too mundane, too normal, breaking the spell that had woven its way into the bathroom.

  “Just about!” Agnes called. “Take your robe off and get in the tub, quick,” she said to Sera.

  “My orange mother made me this robe,” Sera said, clutching the dirty fabric.

  “And I will make sure no one else touches it,” Agnes said. “But we’ve got to get you clean and dressed or my father will be very angry. And trust me, you do not want to incite his ire.”

  Sera nodded and slipped off the robe, stepping into the tub.

  “It’s warm!” she cried with delight.

  “Yes, of course it is,” Agnes said.

  And with that, she dunked Sera’s head underwater.

  22

  Leo

  LEO COULD NOT RECALL THE LAST TIME HIS FATHER HAD thrown a party in his own house.

  Xavier had insisted the event be black tie. Representatives from Old Port’s wealthiest families were in attendance, men with connections and business interests all over Kaolin. Leo saw George Wilkes of Wilkes Dairy fame, Sebastian Horne of Horne Mills, and Wilbur Grandstreet, whose family owned the shipyard that had built much of the Kaolin naval fleet. A delegate from the Ministry of Agriculture was also in attendance, and Xavier was chatting him up when Robert Conway and his father arrived. Leo welcomed them in the foyer.

  “Leo,” Robert said, clapping him on the back and shaking his hand, like he was a politician and not Leo’s best friend. “Quite the do your father’s throwing.” A footman stationed by the door handed him a glass of champagne. “Elizabeth told me all about that tree with the face and that odd sea creature. Are they here tonight?”

  He looked around eagerly, as if Leo might be hiding Errol behind a potted plant.

  “No, he’s got a different trick up his sleeve,” Leo said. “I think your father will be impressed.”

  He wanted to sound jaunty and confident, but his words felt hollow. He didn’t like talking about Sera as if she were some party trick, especially now that he knew her name. Hattie had told him Agnes was getting her ready. His father had asked him to choose a dress for his sister, and Leo had picked out one for Sera too. He wasn’t about to leave anyone in Agnes’s hands when it came to dressing for a party, no matter how odd or magical they might be.

  He touched his cheek again—he could not seem to stop doing that, as if waiting for the bruise to reappear.

  Robert laughed. He had the laugh of someone who’d never had to worry about a thing all his life. The white tuxedo he wore contrasted smartly with his dark skin, and his neatly trimmed black beard was dotted with crystals.

  “He must be quite confident, then.” Robert up looked past Leo and his eyes widened. “My god.”

  Leo turned and saw his sister coming down the stairs. The dress he had chosen had been shoved in the back of her closet with a few other fashionable options, ones that must have been gifts, because he could not imagine Agnes choosing them for herself. It was a pale green the color of sea foam, with small puffed sleeves and a scooped neckline. The skirt had layers of tulle underneath, giving it a pleasing bell shape, and the only decoration was around the hem, a floral pattern sewn with copper thread. Hattie had curled her hair and decorated it with copper pins shaped like flowers, tendrils hanging down her back.

  “Why, Agnes, you look absolutely stunning,” Robert said, coming over to kiss her hand as she reached the last step.

  “Thanks,” she said, tugging on one of the sleeves as if trying to make it longer. The doorbell rang and Swansea went to open it.

  Mr. Grange entered the house and descended on Agnes with a sycophantic smile.

  “My dear Agnes, how lovely to s
ee you!” he cried. “I cannot believe it was only yesterday that your engagement to my son was made official. I feel as if you are part of the family already.”

  Ebenezer Grange stood behind his father, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

  “Agnes and Ebenezer?” Robert murmured, and Leo could sense his eagerness to spread this fresh gossip. Leo had had a few too many things on his mind to worry about his sister’s engagement. Besides, as fun as it had been to hang over Agnes’s head all summer, once it became a reality, he lost his taste for the jest. Especially after he’d seen the look on her face when he’d guessed as much, the bleak tears that had filled her eyes. He’d never seen his sister cry before.

  “Hello, Ebenezer,” she said. “Mr. Grange, it is, um, nice to see you too. Excuse me, I think I need a refreshment.”

  “I shall accompany you,” Ebenezer said, holding out an arm awkwardly. Agnes took it and they left the foyer. Mr. Grange followed them, craning his neck to search for Xavier.

  “Do you think they rented those tuxedos?” Robert asked with a smirk. “Oh, I heard James Roth is here as well. He’s starring in this mysterious, one-night-only production, isn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “He must be sad Xavier’s getting out of the theater business. Your father made him famous.”

  “Master Leo, there you are!” Kiernan came hurrying up to him. He looked a proper Kaolin gentleman this evening—gone was the kohl around his eyes and the seashell in his hair. His tuxedo fit him well, though the cummerbund was a bit tight around his stomach.

  “Mr. Kiernan, may I present Robert Conway, of the Conway Rail family,” Leo said. “Robert, this is Ezra Kiernan. Mr. Kiernan has been instrumental in helping my father with this new endeavor.”

  “How do you do,” Robert said politely, shaking his hand. But Leo could read the look in his eyes that said, So this is the Pelagan.