by Amy Ewing
Agnes pressed her index fingers together again. “No, no, it was the thing,” she said again, insistently. “Blood bond, that’s what she called it. And I saw . . .”
“You saw her memories, didn’t you,” he said.
She sucked in a breath. “Yes.”
“She saw mine too. Did she see—”
“Yes,” she said again.
They sat in silence, lost in thought.
“What did you see?” Agnes asked.
“Grandmother McLellan being her usual charming self,” Leo said wryly. “Making snow angels with Robert and his mother. I saw her friend who gave her the star necklace and her three mothers. That’s weird, isn’t it? Three mothers.”
“I saw them too,” she said. “And her city made of glass.”
“How do they even make babies? I mean, there didn’t seem to be any men.”
“I know. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She lay down again. “A city with no men.”
“Thanks,” Leo said.
“Parthenogenesis,” Agnes said, sitting back up abruptly.
“Um . . . bless you?”
She frowned at him. It took her eyes a second to focus. “Parthenogenesis,” she said. “It’s the process by which an embryo can develop from an unfertilized egg. I think Sera’s people, the Cerulean, must procreate using some form of parthenogenesis. I’ve only ever heard of it happening in bees and lizards and sometimes birds. But they are magic, I suppose. . . .” She cocked her head. “What were you doing there anyway? Why did you go see her?”
“Because I wanted some answers. I tried to talk to you, didn’t I? But you had more important things to do, like get drunk with Pelagan sailors.”
Agnes giggled again. “I had very important things to do,” she clarified.
“I can see that.” Leo scratched the back of his neck. “And I wanted to apologize to her. For, you know, the net and . . . everything else.”
She stared at him, then threw back her head and laughed.
“Shh!” he hissed. “You’ll wake the whole house!”
Agnes pressed her face into her pillow, her body shaking with laughter. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, coming up for air. “You went to apologize? Oh, I wish I could have seen that. Have you ever apologized before? For anything? What did you even say?”
There is nothing that is keeping you from choosing to be the right kind of person.
Leo hesitated. It was different confessing to Agnes than it had been to Sera. She might have seen a few of his memories, but he had known Agnes his whole life, and he had spent much of that life obsequiously following his father and trying to make her miserable. He wasn’t sure she would believe what he told her now. But he supposed he had to start somewhere. He picked a piece of lint off his trousers and stared at his knee when he spoke.
“I don’t want to be like Father anymore. Whatever this new business is, this . . . selling of Pelagan creatures, of Sera and her blood, I don’t like it. I wish I’d never gotten involved in it. I wish I’d never brought her to him. And when all those memories came back, it was like seeing my life clearly. I don’t think he’s ever cared about me at all. I think he would rather I’d never been born.”
Agnes was quiet for so long Leo thought she might have fallen asleep.
“He doesn’t love me either, you know,” she said. “He told me to my face he wished I had been born a boy. Yet I still wish he would show me some . . . some modicum of affection. It’s pathetic. But he’s our father. He’s the only parent we have.” She hesitated, then leaned over the edge of her bed. For a second Leo worried she was going to get sick, but then she was back with an old, worn photograph in her hands.
“Here,” she said. “I know you always say you don’t care about her, or don’t want to talk about her, but she existed, Leo. She was real. And I have to believe she would have loved us no matter what.”
Leo stared down at the picture of a woman with his face. All the times Eneas had told him he was her spitting image came back to him in a rush, all the times he’d rolled his eyes and reassured himself that he couldn’t look that much like her.
But he’d been wrong. The woman in the photograph had a nose just like his, and the same-shaped eyes, and an identical chin. His curls were caught up, windswept, around her face. His smile curved on her lips. She had a bicycle and was wearing pants and a thick sweater. His own mother, wearing pants. And she looked so happy. On the rare occasion that he’d thought about her at all, he pictured her on her deathbed after giving birth. He’d imagined her sweaty and exhausted, with circles under her eyes. He’d imagined someone weak, someone who refused to stay alive for her children, who didn’t care enough.
It hit Leo then that he blamed his mother for dying.
A tear fell onto the photograph, blurring her face. He wiped it away and held the picture out to Agnes, embarrassed.
“Look at the back,” she said. He turned it over and saw, in delicate cursive, the words: Taken by X, March 12. Runcible Cottage, the Edge of the World.
“He took this?” Leo could not imagine a scenario in which Xavier would be in the same company as a woman wearing this sort of outfit, much less making said woman laugh the way his mother was laughing.
“I know,” Agnes said.
“What’s Runcible Cottage?”
She shrugged. “Beats me. And I’m not about to ask.”
They both stared down at their mother.
“You won’t tell him I have it, right?” she said.
“No. Never. He’d probably make you burn it.” He handed the photograph back to her. “Will you tell me what this tether is?”
She leaned against her pillows and yawned. “I’m not sure I entirely understand it. It’s part of her city, a city in space. The tether attaches the city to our planet, and she thinks if she can get to the tether, she can get back home.”
Leo took his time processing her words. In the end he decided that a city of only women that floated around in space was no crazier to believe than magical healing blood.
“I’ve got to help her, Leo,” Agnes said, her eyes fluttering closed. “She can’t . . . Father is stealing her . . . it’s all wrong. She shouldn’t be here and we did that, me and you together. I was there, I was responsible too. I should have let her go, could have, but I was scared and I don’t want to be scared anymore. And I don’t want to live in Old Port and I don’t want to marry Ebenezer Grange.” Her head sank deeper into her pillow. “He’s nice, though,” she added sleepily. “Very nice. Very helpful. But not for me. No, not for me.”
“I’m going to help her too,” Leo said. “I promised I would, and I’m going to keep that promise.” He smiled. “What do you know, we’re on the same team for the first time since . . . well, ever.”
But Agnes was already drifting off, her breathing slow and steady. He went to the bathroom and filled a glass with water, took two aspirin out of the medicine cabinet, and crept back to her room.
“Agnes,” he said, shaking her gently. “Sit up and take these.”
She took the aspirin obediently, then lay back again.
“You’re being very nice,” she murmured. “It’s suspicious.”
“Get used to it, little sister.”
She growled with all the ferocity of a kitten. “Three minutes, Leo. Three lousy minutes.”
“And I get to lord it over you until the end of our days.”
She let out a drowsy laugh. He put the glass down on her nightstand as his sister slipped into unconsciousness, then unpinned the silly hat from her bun and left it on her dresser. The photograph of their mother was still clutched in her hand, and he placed it next to the glass of water. Alethea Byrne looked so alive. Leo had always been irritated by Agnes’s curiosity about her, but now he was beginning to understand. There was a whole side to the two of them that they knew nothing about. Maybe if Leo had cared more about his mother, he wouldn’t have been so desperate to be like his father.
He turned off the light and went t
o his room, pulling on pajamas and getting into bed. That night he dreamed he was a little boy again, just learning to ride a bicycle, and a woman with red curls and a marvelous laugh was cheering him on. Then the dream shifted and he was grown, staring into a pair of brilliant blue eyes as a warm, silvery hand slipped into his own.
Leo woke with his mother on his mind.
There was something he was missing, some connection his brain couldn’t quite make. He thought back to the conversation he had overheard between Kiernan and his father, the night after that first dinner when everything changed.
You’re lucky I got you out of Pelago when I did. Ambrosine Byrne could snuff out this operation before you can say “mertag.”
It had sounded as if Kiernan had some relationship with Leo’s grandmother, and more surprisingly, that his father knew her too. Xavier had been worried about Ambrosine assembling ships to search for the ruins of Braxos like some feud existed between them, and that couldn’t possibly be. What would they have to feud over? Their only connection died eighteen years ago. And when Xavier mentioned never setting foot in Pelago again, as if he’d been there before—now that was something Leo was certain he would know, had it happened.
Of course, it was more than likely Xavier kept many things from his children. But there was something about Braxos . . . his father wanted it, his grandmother apparently too, and so did Sera. Leo sipped his coffee and stared out his bedroom window overlooking their back garden, considering his options. Agnes had booked passage on a ship to Pelago, which was impressive in and of itself. But she would need to get Sera out of the theater, and Leo knew she would not be allowed in until the night of the show.
But he could get in.
“Sir?” Janderson’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“Sorry, what?”
“Your father wishes to see you, sir. In his study.”
Does he know? Leo thought, panicked, though about what he couldn’t decide.
But he didn’t let his fears show. “All right,” he said, putting his coffee down. “Thanks, Janderson.”
He left his room and headed downstairs. The study door was closed and Leo knocked, trying to slow his heart.
“Come,” his father said.
He was signing some papers and did not look up until he was finished. Leo took a seat in one of the uncomfortable hardback chairs and waited.
“Leo,” Xavier said finally, shuffling the papers and putting them in a drawer. “The event the other evening was a smashing success. That girl you brought me is a gold mine. Hubert Conway was practically begging to invest. And he’s going to build me a train unlike any that has ever been seen before, at a fraction of what it will cost, so long as I let him in on ten percent of the profits. I talked him down to seven percent, naturally, but his name adds an extra layer of credibility. These Pelagan creatures will be most difficult to transport. I am fortunate he already has several empty train cars that are perfect for the modifications I will need.”
“That’s wonderful news, Father,” Leo said, but Xavier continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“The first stop will be Alacomb. I already have some buyers lined up there, to lease Boris to enrich the soil on their farms. Good thing that tree is small enough to be moved fairly easily, he’ll need to be replanted quite a bit. From there you’ll head to the Gulf of Windsor, where Errol can be rented out to replenish the waters around the coast. The girl’s blood can be sold anywhere along the way, but we’ll need to be careful with the pricing. You’ll leave soon after the final production. Hubert has assured me my train will be ready as quickly as possible. I’ll expect daily reports once you are on the road. You will make yourself available to Kiernan over the coming days; he’ll teach you about each creature and what it needs in terms of care, and what it is capable of. You will attend him both in his laboratory and at the theater. The Arboreal should be easy as long as he doesn’t throw any more punches.”
Leo was overwhelmed by all this information, but his father didn’t seem to notice.
“The mertag can be difficult,” he continued. “He has a certain sort of defense mechanism that left one of my other men with third-degree burns and the loss of three fingers on his left hand.” Leo hadn’t realized Errol was dangerous. “And we already know the girl likes to try and run. I’m making sure Kiernan is well stocked with anesthetic of the strongest grade. That blood of hers burns it off like it’s nothing.”
He leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk. “You’ll have to perform the same demonstration as you did at the party, of course—her blood must be seen to be believed. You may cut yourself or have James Roth do it, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m sending him along as my auctioneer of sorts. His handsome face and celebrity status should do nicely. The blood must be priced high enough so as to be exclusive. We don’t want to drain her dry. Janderson will pack for you—you may take him with you, if you wish. I know how you enjoy the trappings my money provides.” He checked his pocket watch. “That will be all.”
Leo tried not to show how dazed he felt. His father was sending him across Kaolin—that had never been the plan, had it? Or maybe it had and Xavier was only just now deigning to tell him.
“What?” Xavier asked, and Leo realized his shock was showing. “You’ve always wanted to be a part of the business, haven’t you? Now you are. Don’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, Father. I am eager to start this journey.” Leo had to do better. He had to leave this meeting with more information that he currently had. But he couldn’t just come out and say, Oh, by the way, whatever happened between you and my grandmother?
“What about Braxos?” he asked.
“What about it?”
“You are sending ships there. I only wondered why you would not send me on that voyage, when you have Kiernan and James Roth here taking care of the creatures.”
Xavier’s thick eyebrows rose a full inch up his forehead. “Send you? To Pelago? My god, Leo, you sound like your sister.”
Too much, Leo thought. You’ve gone too far. Roll it back.
He laughed heartily. “My apologies, Father. I suppose all the talk of riches and women and fountains of youth got me excited. But you are right, this new venture is more important.”
Xavier stroked the place where his beard was shaved to a point. “It is,” he agreed. “I’m afraid you’ll miss Agnes’s wedding. Though I assume that won’t be an issue for either of you.”
He chuckled and Leo followed suit, as he always had before. “No,” he said. “I won’t be heartbroken to miss that.”
“I should think not.”
It occurred to Leo then that his father might actually enjoy the hostility between him and his sister.
Xavier took out another stack of papers and began to read through them. When he saw Leo was still there, he frowned. “That will be all. Kiernan is expecting you in his lab this afternoon at three.”
Once Leo was out of the study, he climbed the stairs back to his bedroom and sat down heavily in the chair at his vanity. His father had planned to send him away, to be cut up over and over, to sell Sera’s blood bit by bit. To rid himself once and for all of his Pelagan son. It made perfect sense, now that he saw things clearly. The island was where Xavier’s real passion lay. Leo could read it in his father’s face as plainly as reading the headline of the Old Port Telegraph.
Leo looked at his reflection in the vanity. Determination gleamed in his turquoise eyes. His mother’s eyes. He ran a hand through his curls, his mother’s curls, and smiled his mother’s smile.
“Well, Father,” he said aloud. “It seems Agnes and I have something in common after all.”
Then he stood and headed to his sister’s room, to let her know she would not be helping Sera escape alone.
34
Sera
THINGS CHANGED IN THE THEATER OVER THE NEXT SEVERAL days.
In addition to James and the other performers, suddenly there were males painting big pieces of wood or
sawing away at things, hanging lights and polishing surfaces, running strange-looking machines over the floors and seats. Several of them seemed to be working on what looked like a giant swing, a platform attached between two chains. Women came in with rolls of bright-colored fabrics, cutting and sewing and chatting with each other. They often cast Sera curious looks, though she and her crate had been moved to a spot behind Boris and her garden, so she wasn’t as visible as she had been before.
The garden had flourished since Boris had shown Sera her sprites, and the man with the two-pronged face hair named Martin was extremely excited by all the new flowers. There were ones with red and gold stripes that would bite you if you came too close to them, ones that sparkled when the sun began to set, and some that changed colors from day to day. He and a few other males kept talking about Sera, and she got the impression they expected her to have a role in the story of James versus the evil Pelagan woman. Leo hadn’t returned with Leela’s moonstone, nor had Agnes come, and the seed of hope she’d planted in her heart was beginning to wilt.
The fifth day after her evening talk with Leo, she discovered her role in the play.
“So, what’s the verdict, Martin?” James asked. “To what use are we putting our special silver friend?”
“I heard she’s a witch,” Gwendivere whispered to the man with the hairy lip named Grayson.
“I heard she’s a sort of healer,” he replied.
The woman scoffed, “Not likely! No, I heard she can cut men just by looking at them. I heard she cut Xavier’s own son.”
“Attention, please!” Martin clapped his hands. “As you all know, some adjustments have been made to the last scene. My darling Gwendivere, in the final confrontation between you and James, you will stab him with a poisoned blade. James, you will fall to your knees, cursing the Pelagan goddesses and such. William has written some very nice lines for you, and then we will bring, um, um . . . what are we calling her?”
“Azure,” James said.
“Yes, then we bring Azure down from the ceiling, lights will flash, and James will be healed and declare it a miracle from the One True God. Then the show will end as it always has. Gwendivere is defeated, James brings Errol and Boris—and now Azure as well—back to Kaolin, the famines and droughts are ended, and all is well.” Martin beamed around the room. “Satisfactory? Everyone on the same page? Excellent, we will practice this new ending without Azure for now. They are still working on her setup.”