The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,133
successful distraction. If Leo was reacting like this to only one of them, imagine what hundreds could be capable of.
“They’re quite friendly, actually. Very sweet. They like to dance.”
The sprite floated her way over to Leo, spinning and twirling. She landed on his knee and gave a deep bow. Then she hopped down and scampered back to Boris, blowing some sparks Sera’s way in farewell before vanishing into the dirt.
“Wow,” Leo said. “Yes, I think they should be fairly diverting.”
“Leo!” his father called, and he jumped to his feet like he’d been electrocuted.
“Coming, Father,” he called back. He turned to Sera. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night,” she said. He looked about to say something else, then reconsidered and hurried off the stage and up the aisle, leaving her alone with her friends. She gazed at the circle of glass overhead, the sky as blue as the forget-me-nots she and Leela used to weave into flower crowns.
I’m coming, mothers, she vowed. I’m coming, Leela.
Part Six
The City Above the Sky and Old Port City, Kaolin
37
Leela
LEELA HAD TO WAIT UNTIL THE NEXT EVENING BEFORE she could return to the Moon Gardens, because she could not sneak around during the Night of Song.
The voices of the novices carried over the entire City in rippling waves, their candle flames reflecting off the sunglass-paved paths as they walked, singing all through the night. Leela had always loved the Night of Song, but this year it grated on her nerves. She felt raw and impatient. She needed to see what lay beneath that statue—she felt certain the answers she was seeking were close at hand. She turned the vision she’d had when she touched the moonstone over in her mind, the strange place with the pretty tree and purple-pink flowers. And Sera’s laugh, which had seemed to come from the statue of Aila itself. And the markings she had seen on the cold, smooth obelisk.
Sera. The tether. Moonstone. These stairs. Estelle. Kandra had said that these things were all related somehow. Leela repeated them over and over, as if the connection might suddenly become clear. But she was still puzzling when dawn’s light crept in through her window and the singing faded away. The novices would be sleeping tonight, the temple silent. It was her best chance. She could not afford to wait any longer anyway.
Sera. The tether. Moonstone. These stairs. Estelle.
Sera. The tether. Moonstone . . .
She sat up in bed, her heart pounding. Moonstone was clearly magical, though no one could seem to agree on what exactly its magic was. And no one besides Leela knew that Sera had carried a piece of it with her when she fell. But now the few pieces of moonstone left in the City were sending Leela visions, and laughter, and markings, and revealing secret underground stairs. And the tether had not broken. What if Sera was alive out there somewhere? What if she was trying to communicate to Leela through the moonstone?
She threw back her covers and slipped into a cloudspun dress. She had to speak to Kandra. She had to tell her about the necklace.
“Breakfast, darling?” her orange mother said, stirring a pot on the stove and yawning. The smell of potatoes and rosemary made Leela’s stomach growl, but she had no time for food.
“I’m just going to wash up in the Estuary, Orange Mother,” she lied. “Save some for me. It smells delicious.”
“I make no promises, your green mother is famished,” she said with a wink. Leela forced a laugh and kissed her on the cheek. She left her dwelling and took a less-traveled route that led her past the Aviary and some of the communal gardens on the outskirts of the City.
She didn’t dare believe her own conclusion, not yet. She couldn’t bear it if she was wrong—it would be like losing Sera all over again. But there was something about moonstone that was beyond what she had been taught, beyond what was remembered in Cerulean society.
When she arrived at Sera’s dwelling, she found it silent. There were no murmurs of conversation, no scent of cooking breakfast, nothing to indicate that anyone was living here. The path to the front door felt impossibly long, but suddenly she was peering into Sera’s sitting room, the familiar couch with its blue upholstery, the framed pressed flowers hanging on the walls. It was as if Sera would come running in from her room at any moment, skid to a stop, and admonish Leela for being late.