by Amy Ewing
15
Leo
IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE THEY’D LEFT ARBAZ AND Leo hadn’t seen a glimpse of Sera.
Not since that first night, after Sera had spoken to Leela.
He’d been so relieved to be able to feel his body again after the disorienting experience of seeing through Sera’s eyes in that strange underground place. His brain had still been processing what had happened, and then Rahel was back with the peach cobbler, which he’d forgotten about entirely, but it didn’t matter because Sera had begun to glow. Her eyes were fiery blue suns as she stared down the princess, and spoke to her in Pelagan. But even that surprise had had to wait because then Leo was seeing things.
It was like when he and Sera blood bonded, except this time there was only one memory and it was Rahel’s. He’d watched, half fascinated, half disgusted, as Rahel blamed a servant girl for breaking a vase she herself had smashed and then delighted in the girl’s punishment. Then the memory had vanished and Rahel screamed for her Misarro.
Eireen had come running, taken one look at Rahel’s blubbering face, her shaking finger pointing at Sera, and before Leo could move or think, the Misarro had grabbed Sera, pinning her arms down and dragging her out of the room, Rahel still shrieking, “She hurt me, she’s cursed, she hurt me!”
But that was days ago. Leo paced his cabin, everything floral patterned and crusted in diamonds. They’d locked him up, Rahel no longer trusting him though she visited him daily. It had taken all of his considerable skill at flirting to get her to promise that Sera was not being mistreated but just held prisoner like him until they reached Ithilia and the Renalt could sort out what to do with her.
Leo’s nerves had been gnawing a hole in his stomach. Just then there was the click of a lock and Rahel swooped into the room.
“Ithilia! Leo, do you see? We’re almost home,” she sang, like the two of them were on an adventure together.
He peered out his window and was shocked when he saw land in the distance. At least he would finally get to see Sera again and know for certain that she was all right. But he shuddered at the thought of facing the Triumvirate. “I’m eager to see it,” Leo lied.
Rahel beamed. “There are so many ships coming to it now. Mother didn’t even want me to go to Arbaz at all, she said it was too dangerous, but won’t she be pleased when I bring her a Byrne! And that . . . thing.” She shivered.
Leo’s jaw clenched. “I do hope Sera is feeling all right,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “You wouldn’t want her to be unwell in front of your mother.”
Rahel pouted. “She’s fine. I promised you, didn’t I? I’m a princess; princesses keep promises.”
Leo was wholly unreassured by that statement.
Suddenly, there was a massive bang and the whole ship shook. Rahel shrieked and rushed to cling to him as Leo grabbed on to a golden chaise to steady himself.
“What’s happening?” she cried as the ship shook again. The smell of gunpowder filled the air and then there was a great groaning creak followed by a thunderous crash. Leo ignored Rahel’s nails digging into his arm, ignored the pounding of footsteps and shouts from above, because Sera was somewhere on this ship and he didn’t know where and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her. Whoever had attacked the Gilded Lily was not likely to be a friend to a half Kaolin man and a girl who looked like a goddess.
Footsteps came closer and Rahel shrank into his side. There was another crash and the door was kicked in, the painted wood splintering by the lock. A Misarro stood in the doorway, her spiked hair like flames about her face, golden disks covering her throat, no crest on her tunic. She took one look at Leo, then quickly stepped aside to let a woman enter the cabin. She was in her sixties and very tall, thick black curls streaked with gray piled up on her head, studded with an enormous crown conch. She wore navy pants and a pinstripe blazer, a silver-topped cane in one hand.
And she had Leo’s eyes, exactly.
When she caught sight of him, her expression seemed to fracture, revealing pain, raw and jagged. Then she blinked and it was gone.
“You must be Leo,” she said, stepping forward. “By the goddesses . . . she has indeed been born again in you.”
“W-who are you?” Leo stammered, but the answer was as plain as his face.
“I’m your grandmother,” the woman said. “Ambrosine Byrne.”
Rahel let out a whimper. “You can’t be here,” she said. “This is my ship, mine! You aren’t sup—”
Leo’s grandmother turned to Rahel with an expression reserved for unwanted vermin. “Rahel, do us all a favor and shut your mouth,” she said. “Your ship has no cannons, a skeleton crew, and my Misarros are better than yours. And before you even think to say it, yes, of course I know who your mother is, you pitiful little fool, and as you can see, I do not care. I’m taking my grandson and that’s all there is to it. Your guard has been subdued and your ship crippled. Now do be a good girl and sit down.”
To Leo’s shock, Rahel plopped herself down on the chaise, eyes filled with tears, lips pressed together, cheeks red.
“Come, Leo,” Ambrosine said, and Leo followed, half dazed, until he came to his senses.
“Where’s Sera?” he demanded, turning on the princess. Rahel raised a hand and dumbly pointed to the left. Leo turned to his grandmother. “I’m not leaving without my friend.”
Irritation flashed in Ambrosine’s eyes, but she gave an elegant shrug. “Very well.” With a snap of her fingers, the Misarro was sent off down the hall, kicking in door after door until Leo heard Sera’s shocked cry. His bones melted with relief.
“It’s all right, Sera, it’s me, we’re safe!” he called, and the next thing he knew Sera was flying out of the room and down the hall. She was unharmed, as Rahel had promised.
“You’re all right,” she said, throwing her arms around him. Her warm softness and flowery-starlight scent engulfed him and he felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach. “I was so worried about you.”
Leo realized then that Ambrosine and her Misarro were staring at Sera, the way everyone stared at Sera.
“She’s not Saifa,” Leo began, almost wearily, but then he remembered Sera could speak Pelagan now. Probably Kaolish too.
Ambrosine held up a hand. “Explanations can wait,” she said. “We must be off at once.”
Wherever Rahel’s guard was, Leo didn’t know—the decks were streaked with blood and smoke poured out of the hole where the mast had once stood. Destruction lay in the wake of where it fell across the ship, splintered wood and crushed golden rails. There were more Misarros, all with gold disks sewn into their collars, which Leo took to mean they were in the service of Ambrosine.
They crossed the deck to a large plank-like footbridge, that extended from a huge galleon, two cannons on its deck still pointing at the ruined mast.
Once aboard, Ambrosine shouted orders, her voice like the crack of a whip, and the footbridge was raised as the ship was readied to set sail. She turned to Leo and Sera as a servant in a blue tunic hurried up with a tray of ice-cold cucumber water. Ambrosine waved her off.
“I heard my grandson had been taken along with a companion,” she said, looking Sera up and down. “Aren’t you magnificent.”
“Thanks for saving us,” Leo said, but the words felt clumsy, inept. Ambrosine wasn’t at all like he’d pictured her. He’d imagined someone matronly, with a hunched back and horrific taste in footwear. Not this sleek woman in an expertly tailored suit with her own contingent of fierce warriors.
He hoped he wouldn’t be expected to call her “Grandmother.” That would be altogether too strange.
She looked at him and he was once again seized by the bizarre sensation of seeing his eyes in someone else’s head. Ambrosine had his curls too, black like his except for the bits of gray. But her chin was squarer, her cheekbones more pronounced, and her nose was slightly beaked.
“You are my blood,” she said. “Of course I would come for you. I wish the circu
mstances of our meeting were different. But once I read in the papers that the Triumvirate had taken a young Byrne in Arbaz . . . I knew.”
“Knew what?” Leo asked.
“I knew that my daughter’s children had returned to Pelago at last,” Ambrosine said. “But where is your sister?”
“I don’t know,” Leo said honestly. “She could still be in Arbaz. We made friends with a sailor, though, so she might be coming to Ithilia. She was there when Sera and I were taken. This is Sera, by the way.”
Something about his grandmother made him feel like everything he said was just a little bit stupid, as if her presence scrambled his thoughts.
“I am a Cerulean,” Sera said, pushing her shoulders back bravely, and Leo felt his chest melt a little. “Leo has been helping me get to Braxos so I can get back home to my people. We heard you have cut off the ways to the island but we hoped you might allow us to get through.”
Leo thought that was rather valiant of her to declare all at once. Ambrosine raised an eyebrow.
“Braxos,” she said, then smiled. It was a startling change, like the sun coming suddenly out from behind a cloud. Her whole face softened into a kinder version of the woman who had shut Rahel up earlier.
Ambrosine snapped her fingers and two sailors appeared as quickly as if she had conjured them out of the air. “Gather a crew, take one of the stowed boats, and make for Ithilia. Half will search the city, the other half make for Arbaz. I must find my granddaughter before the Triumvirate does.”
“We’re not going to Ithilia?” Leo asked.
“Ithilia is far too dangerous right now,” Ambrosine said. “But don’t you fear; my people will find your sister. Now, look at the two of you,” she said, clucking her tongue. Another snap and two young servant girls in blue tunics rushed to her side. Leo could not help but be impressed—even his father did not command such immediacy. Though he could tell the girls were fascinated by Sera, they were doing a decent job of hiding it. “Take my grandson and his friend below. I want hot water prepared for them to wash, and find some fresh clothes.”
“Yes, mistress,” one of the girls said, and gestured to Sera as the other motioned for Leo to follow her. Ambrosine took his hand as he passed, and there was surprising strength in her grip.
“We will speak once you have had a chance to bathe and change,” she said. He nodded and watched her take in his face once more, but this time her eyes revealed nothing.
The servant he was following opened a hatch and Leo descended a steep flight of stairs after her. She led him down halls carpeted in crimson and gold, miniature chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and then into a small room with a claw-foot tub already filled with hot water.
“Your stateroom is right next door,” the girl said shyly. “I will lay clothes out for you.”
Leo started to thank her but she was already gone. The bath felt like heaven after being locked up for three days, no matter how opulent his prison. Once he had scrubbed the travel and sweat and dirt from his skin, he padded next door to his room. A four-poster bed was hung with pale blue curtains and laid with a navy comforter and pillows; there was a thick carpet that swallowed up his bare feet and a leather armchair with a small table beside it next to a large porthole. Simple garb was laid out on the bed, pants and a shirt and vest much like what the sailors on the deck had been wearing. The pants were an inch too short, the vest a hair tight, but the clothes were clean and Leo was grateful for them.
He opened the door to the stateroom, unsure of what he was supposed to do now.
“Sera?” he called, but then the same servant girl was rushing down the hall toward him.
“Mistress Byrne is waiting for you in her private parlor, sir,” she said breathlessly. “If you will follow me.”
She led him to a small cabin with two armchairs around a table set for tea. His grandmother was already seated in one and smiled at him when he entered. This smile wasn’t quite the same as the one on the deck—there were teeth behind it. A large window let in the golden rays of the sun, which fell on oak-paneled walls and illuminated a huge portrait of a woman standing at the prow of a ship, stormy waves crashing against its hull, one hand clutching the rail like talons. The woman had Leo’s eyes and Ambrosine’s beaked nose and she gazed out imperiously over the room.
His grandmother stood. “Thank you, Mckenna, that will be all,” she said, and the girl vanished. “You look much refreshed, Leo.”
“I am,” he said, then added, “Thank you.” He still felt out of sorts around this woman, a bit like he was just a boy again. “Where’s Sera?”
“You seem quite fond of her.”
Leo tried not to blush and failed. “She’s my friend.”
Ambrosine’s smile widened like the answer both pleased and amused her. Leo wished he hadn’t mentioned Sera at all.
“Please, sit,” she said. “Have some tea with me.”
She filled the two cups as Leo took a seat in the other armchair. She added honey to hers and stirred it slowly. Leo wasn’t much of a tea drinker, so he just clasped the cup in both hands and waited for her to say something. While he was certainly grateful to be away from Rahel and the Triumvirate, and he had very much appreciated the bath, he wasn’t entirely sure about his new situation. Eneas’s warning to Agnes when he dropped them off at the Seaport still rang in his ears.
Be careful around your grandmother. Try to see things as they are, not how you wish them to be.
Leo shifted in his seat and took a sip of tea. It tasted of chamomile and lemongrass. When he looked up, his grandmother was watching him with the same expression as when she’d first seen him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back into her chair. “You just . . .”
“I know,” Leo said. He didn’t need to be told again how much he looked like his mother. Though it did feel different, coming from Ambrosine.
“It’s almost like she’s alive again,” she said, turning away to hide her face in a sip of tea. “Almost.” Leo didn’t know what to say to that. When she turned back, she was composed.
“How do you think your father is handling the news of his children gone, his empire shattered, his most prized possession fled?”
“You knew?” Leo asked. “About the play? You knew about Sera already?”
She let out a biting, humorless laugh. “Don’t look so surprised; I make it my business to know the happenings in Kaolin, especially anything that concerns my grandchildren and that man.” She spat out the word like it was vulgar. “I saw her picture in the Old Port Telegraph, an advertisement for Xavier’s final production. Though I admit I did not think much of her, assuming she was some marketing prank of your father’s. Thankfully no one in Pelago cares about the goings-on in Kaolin. I am one of the few who reads the Old Port papers.” She cocked her head. “Your Pelagan is very good. I’m shocked your father allowed you to learn it.”
Leo shook his head. “He didn’t. The sailor Agnes befriended, the one who brought us to Arbaz. Vada. She taught us on the way.”
“Did she teach Sera as well?”
“No,” he said. “That’s just . . . a part of who she is.” He decided not to mention how recent a development it was.
“And she is linked to Braxos.”
Leo had never thought of it like the two were linked. “That’s one way to put it.” He tried then to explain who Sera was without giving away too much information. He had to admit, it was impressive that his grandmother didn’t flinch at the mention of a city in space.
“I’ve heard a great many strange tales in my life,” she said. “But never one about a Cerulean.” She sat back and crossed one leg over the other.
“Will you help us get her to Braxos?” Leo asked.
For a moment, Ambrosine was lost in thought. She added more honey to her tea and stared at the portrait on the wall as she stirred. “Yes,” she murmured. “I will help you.”
Leo’s head swam with relief. “Thank you.”
“The Triu
mvirate needs a good reminder of who they’re dealing with,” Ambrosine said. “Braxos is of the north and belongs to the north. They’ve sat too long on their western thrones. They cannot claim what is not rightfully theirs.”
Leo didn’t see how Braxos was rightfully Ambrosine’s either, regardless of geography, but felt it best not to say that out loud. For now, she was promising to help them, and that was all he could have hoped for.
“The Renalt won’t like that you attacked her daughter’s ship,” Leo said.
Ambrosine finally tore her eyes from the painting. “Did I give the impression that I care what the Renalt likes or dislikes?”
Leo’s face went hot. Talking to his grandmother felt like walking in a murky stream barefoot—he never knew when he might step on a jagged rock.
“Where are we going?” he asked, changing the subject.
She raised an eyebrow. “Why, to Culinnon, of course. Aren’t you excited to see your true home?”
Leo wasn’t sure he’d phrase it that way. As far as he could tell, at the moment he had no home. Not the brownstone on Creekwater Row or the mysterious island in the north of Pelago. He didn’t seem to belong anywhere.
“I didn’t know Culinnon existed until we came here,” he said. “My father never told us anything about you, or my mother, or Pelago. We weren’t even allowed to mention your name in our house.”
Ambrosine slammed her cup down onto its saucer. “That beastly man,” she muttered. “I should not be surprised that Xavier kept her from you. He kept her from me as well. He wasn’t fit to shine her shoes, much less father the next heir to Culinnon.” She pursed her lips and examined his face again. Leo wished she wouldn’t. It made him feel like she was giving him a test and he was coming up short.
“You know,” she said, “Alethea was my greatest love. I loved her more than my husband or my sons or any of the lovers I have taken over the years. And she was ripped from me, violently and completely. The unfairness of it has been difficult to bear at times, I admit. The pain of her loss. I can still remember the night she was born, on the estates of Culinnon where all Byrnes are brought into this world.” She gave him a look he didn’t quite understand and continued. “It was one of the worst blizzards in recent memory and the doctor was delayed. My husband couldn’t stand the screaming and the blood, but then, he was always a weak man.” She sighed and adjusted the conch in her hair. “Excellent family stock but spineless.”