The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,23

she said. “It’s not like I bought it.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” Leo grumbled. “Don’t you have a frog to dissect or something?”

“It was a rat,” Agnes said, taking a bite of apple. “And I’ve already finished.”

“Ugh.”

Agnes loved science. Although upper-class women weren’t allowed professions in Kaolin, their father indulged her privately, something Leo envied and also never quite understood. It was so out of character for him. He’d even built her a little lab out of the walk-in closet in her bedroom. Leo found it macabre—who would want to sleep with frog corpses and snakes suspended in formaldehyde next door?

“For a big strong man, you’re awfully squeamish.”

“For a delicate lady, you’re awfully disgusting.” He gave her a cursory once-over. “I assume Father isn’t home yet.” Leo could imagine the fallout from Xavier seeing Agnes walking about the house in her lab attire.

She was wearing an old shirt of Eneas’s—he was always spoiling her, giving her whatever she wanted—and a pair of pants that had once belonged to Leo. By the time he realized she’d stolen them, they were covered in all sorts of disgusting stains.

“No, so I don’t have to wear a stupid dress until dinner,” she said. “Which reminds me—Eneas said it’s to be quite the affair tonight. That Pelagan man Father has been working with all year has finally arrived in Old Port. He’s coming to dinner, and I think Father has invited some single Kaolin society women to entice him.”

Leo smirked. His father was such a clever man. After living in Pelago his whole life, this man was sure to be pleased with the way proper Kaolin women behaved around men.

A thought occurred to him. This was his chance! He would impress the Pelagan and show Father that he was capable of handling international affairs. He knew nothing about this new project (his father was incredibly secretive), but he would do some light research on his other shows—the one with the two-headed man and the bearded ladies in Pearl Beach was doing quite well, he seemed to remember, and The Great Picando had just closed at his father’s renowned theater, the Maribelle, in Central Square. Leo had seen it several times—he liked that it had women actors in it, unlike some of the plays in Old Port that cast young men to play women. But it was quite stuffy as far as the writing went. Your basic save-the-Kaolin-woman-from-the-evil-sins-of-polytheism. The Great Picando had been played by James Roth, a rising star in the theater scene. Leo had asked his father to introduce him, but he must have forgotten. Which was understandable—his father was a very busy man.

This was Leo’s moment to prove he was important. He was a McLellan.

Agnes groaned. “Whatever thought is behind that smug look on your face, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know. Dinner’s at eight. You better look sharp.”

“I always do,” he said, and it was true. No one knew how to put an outfit together better than Leo did. All his friends said so. “Do let me know if you need any assistance with your wardrobe. I’m sure you must have something from the current century in there somewhere.”

Agnes smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you, dear brother, but I’d rather take fashion advice from the dissected rat.”

Then she turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.

By seven forty-five, Leo was dressed and ready and had even had Janderson, his manservant, get him some figures on the business to look over.

It seemed that the anti-Talman plays were doing very well in the rural areas around the Knottle Plains and on the coast of the Gulf of Windsor. The Points, the three peninsulas that jutted out from Kaolin’s southwestern edge, seemed to prefer Xavier’s more outrageous theater, dancing bears and men with flippers instead of feet. Old Port enjoyed a healthy mix of the two. Leo was surprised to find that The Great Picando hadn’t done quite as well as he’d imagined—ticket sales had declined over the course of the run.

He studied his reflection in the large, gilt-framed mirror over his vanity and had to admit, he looked rather dashing.

The blue-green tie matched his eyes perfectly, setting off the crisp ivory shirt, and his beige linen waistcoat and slacks completed the outfit. Leo didn’t usually play up his eyes but thought perhaps it would help with another Pelagan in the room. The only thing missing was a beard. It was some genetic quirk of his mother’s, he was