by Amy Ewing
“A pleasure, dear boy, an absolute pleasure. My apologies, but I need to steal your friend away. It is nearly time for the demonstration!” Kiernan was close to bouncing up and down with excitement.
Leo thought he was going to be asked to recount his experience with the Arboreal and Sera’s blood. He hadn’t been looking forward to sharing that he’d been attacked by a tree.
“What demonstration?” he asked as Kiernan led him away into the drawing room. Xavier stood by the mantel talking to Robert’s father, both with drinks in hand. Mr. Grange hovered close by, pretending to be part of the conversation. But Xavier was focused only on Mr. Conway; he’d never invested in any McLellan productions, and Leo knew it was a sore spot for his father.
“Ah, Leo.” Xavier waved him over. “I was just telling Hubert that he’s going to be exceedingly grateful I invited him here tonight. I’m letting him in on the ground floor of an earth-shattering discovery. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Leo said, but neither man was really paying attention to him.
“Now, Xavier, you don’t want to oversell yourself,” Mr. Conway said, wagging a finger.
“Oversell? Why, not at all. Just wait till you see what she can do.”
“She?” Mr. Conway raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on here, McLellan?”
Xavier smiled and put his glass down on the mantel.
“If I could have your attention, please,” he called to the room at large, and silence fell. Agnes and Ebenezer were standing off by the windows, and his sister kept glancing toward the stairs. Leo guessed she was worried about Sera. With a start, he realized he was worried too. And not just about her but about everything—this party, this new direction the business was taking, whatever role he would be expected to play in it. The future he had so confidently envisioned for himself only a few days ago was not so clear anymore.
“As many of you know,” his father continued, “I have been working in secret for quite some time on a brand-new venture, one that will reshape the McLellan empire. Ezra, if you please.”
Swansea came in with an easel and several large boards. Kiernan took one and placed it on display. It was a blown-up photograph of Boris, the one Leo had seen at dinner, only much larger.
“It’s just a tree,” Sebastian Horne scoffed. “What are you playing at, Xavier?”
“This is no ordinary tree, Sebastian,” his father said. “It is called an Arboreal, and it possesses a unique and wondrous power—laugh if you must!” he added, because there were some chuckles among his audience. “But this creature can turn a crumbling farmland into a green oasis. How many of you have ties to the agricultural industry? How many resources have been lost this year, burned in the wildfires, drained to dust by droughts, crops ruined by blight and rot? This tree can change all that. Plant it on your property and I guarantee in one week your soil will be as rich and yielding as if freshly tilled. In two weeks, you’ll be ready to plant, and by the third week, I promise you’ll have a harvest unlike any you’ve seen before.”
“Impossible,” George Wilkes cried.
“I assure you it is not,” Xavier said. “And I would appreciate being allowed to finish without any more outbursts.”
Wilkes fell silent, and Leo could sense his father’s pleasure grow. There was nothing he enjoyed more than dressing down one of his peers.
He motioned to Kiernan, who replaced the photograph of Boris with one of Errol. Leo had yet to see Errol out of his pond, and the picture was murky, mostly just a set of bulging eyes.
“Up next, we have a mertag. Very hard little creature to photograph. Have you ever thought about why Pelagan waters never seem to run dry, especially when Pelagans dine on fish day and night? And meanwhile the waters around Old Port have become too toxic for sea life, and the Gulf of Windsor is once again in danger of being overfished.” He looked at Wilbur Grandstreet. “Wilbur, how many more ships might you sell if the eastern seaboard, from Wenton to Pearl Beach, were suddenly flush with life? If the oyster beds returned, and trout and carp and pike became plentiful once more?”
Mr. Grandstreet looked pleased at being addressed personally. “Why, I can imagine a fair few. But we’ve been busy with orders since that island was discovered too, Xavier.”
“Ah yes. Braxos. I’m glad you mentioned it.”
Kiernan replaced the photograph of Errol with the one of the ruins from the Old Port Telegraph. Now that it was blown up to a much larger scale, Leo saw a shape on top of the doors to the ruins, and it looked sort of like the star pendant on the necklace hidden away in his sock drawer. But they couldn’t possibly be related. Sera had only just gotten here, and those ruins must have been hundreds of years old.
“The island of Braxos has not been seen in our lifetimes,” Xavier said. “Until now. Many believe these ruins hold gold or jewels or other riches. The deputy mayor was claiming last night at the Regent that it was filled with beautiful women who could make a man hand over his fortune with a single kiss.”
There were some chortles at that.
“But the legends I have heard come from a more reliable source and contain wonders greater than precious stones or women,” Xavier continued. “I have been told that the waves lapping at its shores can tell the future. I have heard that within its forests lies the power to speak to those who are dead. And I believe that these ruins’ walls contain the answer to a secret every man here would sacrifice anything to claim for his own.” He paused for dramatic effect. “The secret to eternal life.”
The men looked at each other uncertainly. Leo felt his own face go blank. Who was this source that told his father all these fantastical stories, and more importantly, how could he possibly believe them?
Hubert Conway was the first to speak up.
“Come now, Xavier,” he said. “These tales you tell are like fairy stories for children. A magic tree? A fountain of youth? You must think us mad to believe a single word you say.”
“I would think you mad if you did not harbor some doubts,” Xavier said calmly. “Which is why I have an offer of proof to show you, right here this very evening. James!” The sound of footsteps could be heard from upstairs. “You all know James Roth. A marvelous actor and the star of my final production. Well, perhaps the star no longer.”
Xavier gestured with a flourish as James led Sera down the staircase and into the drawing room. Leo had not had much to choose from in Agnes’s closet, nor had he considered how Sera might actually look in a formal dress, thinking only of finding the right color so as not to clash with her skin and hair. The gown was quite simple, ivory silk with a pink lace overlay and train. No frills or ruffles, just a golden detail around the bodice and lace sleeves that covered her shoulders. Hattie must have done her hair too, an elegant crown of thick blue curls dotted with pins of pearl and rose quartz.
When he saw her, Leo’s stomach flipped like he’d missed a curb while walking down Creekwater Row.
She was frightened, clearly—he could not blame her for that, being stared at by a bunch of men in an unfamiliar home. He told himself he should stop staring too, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her; she carried herself with an otherworldly grace, and her skin shone like a silver pearl in the light of the lamps. Leo caught sight of Robert ogling her, and his hands clenched into fists. Robert was known among their friends for his conquests, and Leo had the sudden urge to throw himself in front of Sera, to protect her from Robert’s possessive gaze.
James held her elbow firmly, her arms clasped behind her back; Leo saw the handcuffs hidden in the folds of her skirt as she came level with him, and it made his stomach churn. Two Pembertons shadowed her every movement, hovering just inside the doorway to the drawing room.
There were gasps and murmurs from the men, and more than a few covetous looks.
“What is she?” Mr. Conway demanded.
“She’s marvelous,” Mr. Wilkes said.
“I call her Azure,” Xavier declared. Agnes’s face twisted in dist
aste at the name. She had her arms folded across her chest, alternately glaring at their father and casting Sera worried glances.
Sera saw his sister and a look passed between them, something Leo didn’t understand, but Agnes gave a tiny shake of her head and Sera responded with a nod. Then she caught sight of Leo and her eyes narrowed. She took a small step away from him. Leo was seized with the impulse to shout that he was sorry, that he hadn’t known what was going to happen when he caught her with the net launcher, that he’d only been thinking of himself and how he might impress his father. He hadn’t thought of her as a person. He hadn’t thought about her at all.
“I think it is time for a demonstration,” Xavier said. “Ezra, if you will.”
Kiernan held up a syringe, showing it off to the crowd like a magician about to perform a trick.
“No, no, please . . .”
The voice caught Leo entirely off guard. It was low and musical and distinctly female. It certainly wasn’t Agnes’s voice, but the only other girl in the room was Sera. That didn’t make sense.
Leo watched, stunned, as Sera spoke again.
“Please don’t do this,” she begged.
What . . . was . . . happening? How was he able to understand her all of a sudden? Maybe everyone else could hear her too. Perhaps his father and Kiernan had figured out—
“What is that gibberish she’s speaking?” Mr. Horne asked.
So Leo was the only one who had understood. He rubbed at his ear.
“She cannot speak our language,” Xavier explained. “But she is not here to dazzle us with words.”
Leo thought he saw his sister mouth “I’m sorry” to her. Could Agnes understand her too? His mind was spinning, making it hard to focus on anything. Maybe he’d been hit on the head harder than he thought. Maybe his brain had suffered some sort of damage that Sera’s blood couldn’t cure.
Xavier grabbed him by the wrist and held up Leo’s hand.
“You see my son’s palm here—unblemished, not a scratch on it. Do you all agree?”
Leo’s instinct to yank his hand away was tempered only by eighteen years of absolute obedience to his father. Xavier nodded to Kiernan—James was gripping Sera’s elbow so tight that his knuckles were white. She shrieked as Kiernan sank the needle into the crook of her arm.
“No!” she cried, and Leo knew this was no hallucination. “Stop, stop, please! I am a Cerulean and my blood is magic and you cannot take it from me!”
Kiernan held up the blood, part two of this magic trick—its rich blue color was shot through with glimmering facets of light, and there were gasps from the audience. Leo felt a sharp slash across his palm and his father held up a small knife, wet with his son’s blood. There was a dull thrumming in Leo’s ears, and the edges of the room went fuzzy. Agnes looked like she was going to be sick, and in some faraway part of his brain he thought, That’s strange, I thought she liked dissecting things.
“Xavier!” Mr. Conway bellowed.
“My son will be fine,” he said. “Watch and be amazed, Hubert.”
Leo’s hand throbbed, the pain setting in like a thin streak of fire. James had to actively hold Sera back as Kiernan approached Leo with the syringe. He removed the needle and carefully administered three drops of blood along the length of the cut.
“No,” Sera moaned, and she seemed to weaken as she struggled against James’s grip.
It was awful, being able to understand her. All the times he had heard her speak came back to him in a rush—what had she been saying when she clutched for her necklace? What had she cried out when he caught her with that net?
She looked to his sister. “Agnes, help me!”
She knows my sister’s name. Agnes’s face was chalky, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt, her shoulders tense. Leo was certain Agnes could understand Sera too. But she was as powerless as he was in this room, in this moment. No one besides the twins paid Sera any mind; all eyes were on Leo’s hand. The audience surged forward and the men’s faces lit up with shock and amazement as they watched his skin knit itself back together until his palm was once again smooth, not even a scar to show where Xavier had cut him.
“In the name of the One True God . . .”
“How can this be?”
“It is as if he was never cut at all!”
“It’s a miracle.” Hubert Conway was thunderstruck. “It’s an absolute miracle.”
“This blood is a gift, bestowed upon my family for a purpose. As are the Arboreal and the mertag,” Xavier said. “And I intend to use them. Who here will join me in this venture? Who will invest in the future of Kaolin and the health of its people with me?”
As if Xavier cared a jot for the health of Kaolin or its people, Leo thought grimly. The men were clamoring for his father’s attention, eager to outdo each other, waving their checkbooks and shouting to be heard. Leo’s hand was grabbed and examined and poked at like he was a magician’s assistant and not the future leader of the McLellan enterprise.
Suddenly, Sera let out a scream, and it seemed to him like it had an edge of excitement.
“Can someone stop that god-awful shrieking?” Wilbur Grandstreet muttered.
“Perhaps our Azure is tired,” Kiernan said, trying to smooth things over. “She is a lady, after all, and must be fatigued. I shall—”
“The tether!” Sera cried. She was staring at the photograph of the ruins. “Agnes, it’s the tether, I can see it, it’s coming right out of that stone temple!”
Agnes’s mouth fell open, but the next moment the Pembertons had descended on Sera and were dragging her away.
“I have to get to the tether!” Leo heard her shout before her voice was cut off.
Agnes knew something, he could see it in her eyes, the cogs and gears of her brain working furiously. She knew what this tether thing was. Did she know where the girl was from? Did she know how her blood healed him, or why he could suddenly understand her?
Leo wanted answers. Whatever Agnes knew, he wanted to know too. Even if it meant going against his father. Even if it meant losing his place in the business.
As the men continued to pass him around, patting his father on the back and speculating wildly about how else they might use Sera’s blood, Leo found his thoughts taking a path they had never ventured down before, new and unfamiliar, but one that felt right.
For the first time in his life, he wanted to talk to his sister.
Part Four
The City Above the Sky
23
LEELA HAD ALWAYS KNOWN HER BEST FRIEND WAS brave—far braver than Leela herself could ever be.
But when Sera turned so calmly and stepped out past the barrier of safety, blood streaming down her arms, her body willowy in stillness, Leela was hit with the enormity of what she had been chosen to do.
And then she watched helplessly as Sera spread her arms and fell from the dais. In the span of a heartbeat, she was gone.
Leela could not bring herself to stay, to witness Sera’s mothers’ agony or hear words of comfort from the High Priestess. She only wanted to be alone with her grief. Her mothers did not try to stop her as she slipped away back home.
Her dwelling felt like a stranger, a different place than it had this morning when Sera was still alive and the world made sense. She sat in her bedroom, as still as one of the statues in the Moon Gardens, until she heard the Cerulean returning to their dwellings, catching bits of conversation as they passed her window. Most were hopeful. Some were excited. A few were somber. Leela could feel Sera becoming less and less of a person with each passing hour. She was a martyr, an idol, a story to be told.
“She was so pious,” Leela heard one woman say.
“She was a great asset to our City,” another murmured.
“Mother Sun saw much in her.”
“She will be praised in everlasting grace once we reach a new planet.”
Leela could not stand it. She did not know this person they were speaking of. Sera had been bold and curio
us and silly. It had been her dream to see a new planet, one she had been teased about or hushed for expressing out loud. And she was the one missing it. It wasn’t fair.
That night was the longest of Leela’s life. When the gray light of morning crept into her room, she roused herself, sat up, and tied her hair back. She had to know if they were moving yet. She had to learn as much as she could, about space, about everything they passed on the way to the new planet, about the journey ahead. She had to know for Sera.
But when Durea, one of the beekeepers, stopped by the dwelling to deliver the day’s honey, Leela could sense instantly that something was wrong.
“We are still attached,” Durea said softly to her green mother. “The High Priestess has not been seen since last night.”
Her mothers looked worried, but not for the reason Leela did. If the City was not moving, did that mean that Sera had sacrificed herself for nothing?
She accompanied her purple mother to the Aviary to collect eggs, and Ileen, one of the midwives, stopped them on the way.
“The tether has not broken,” she said. “I heard the High Priestess has sequestered herself in the temple.”
Her purple mother glanced at Leela, then said, “I am sure all will be well. We must trust in the High Priestess and in Mother Sun.”
Leela felt an unfamiliar jerk of irritation. Once Ileen had gone, she snapped, “You do not have to say those things for my sake.”
Her tone was sharp as nettles, and her purple mother looked hurt. Leela knew she was being unfair, but she could not bring herself to apologize.
By the hour of the dove, the novices were spreading throughout the City.
“Do not fear,” they said. “The High Priestess is seeking guidance. All will be well. Stay in your homes. Do not go out. Pray. Pray for our City.”
Her orange mother gathered the family in the common room. And they prayed, until almost the hour of the serpent, when Leela felt like she would burst if she had to sit still any longer.
“Orange Mother,” she said. “I would like to pray in my room. Alone. If that is all right,” she added. She did not want to hurt another one of her mothers, no matter how raw she felt.
