The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,36

they’re coming back, right?” Leo couldn’t even muster up irritation at his sister right now in the face of going without dinner.

Agnes shrugged. “I doubt it. I bet that was why they took everything with them. To teach the boss’s son a lesson. I wouldn’t be surprised if Father told them to.” She sighed and Leo shuddered. That truth hit a bit too close to home.

“But . . . but . . . what are we supposed to do, sleep out here? With no bed? And no meal?” He sat back down again and cradled his head in his hands. “This was a mistake,” he mumbled. “I’m not . . . maybe you’re right. Maybe this was what he wanted all along.”

The pain was there, like it always was, waiting just offstage. Not good enough, it said to him. Worthless. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never win his respect. Leo tried to focus on the quiet, and the sharp scent of the grass, but the fact was he would have to go home at some point and face his father empty-handed. After a moment, he heard Agnes sit beside him.

“Here,” she said. “I have a bag of peanuts we can share.”

Leo accepted the peanuts gratefully. They were good, crunchy and salty, and gone far too soon. Agnes didn’t seem to mind the lack of food, which made Leo’s irritation spike again. Instead, she lay back and started naming the constellations.

And she wonders why she has no friends, he thought.

“The Fire Starter. The Lady of Justice. The Winged Horse. Aetheus’s Harem—”

“That’s not Aetheus’s Harem,” Leo said.

“Yes, it is,” Agnes insisted.

“No, it isn’t.” Aetheus’s Harem was the only constellation Leo knew because he had once seen a picture of the actual harem in a book when he was nine, and the women were all topless. The constellation was much less exciting than the picture, but still. It wasn’t something he was ever going to forget.

“Leo, I think I know better than you.”

“There are too many stars,” he said. “Look, it’s supposed to be that one, that one, that one. . . .” Leo pointed each of them out in turn. “But that star, that big bluish one, that’s not part of the harem.”

Agnes was silent for a moment, which Leo took to mean he was right.

“What is that star?” she said.

“I don’t know, but it proves that that is not—”

“Oh, get over yourself for one second. Look. It’s . . . it’s getting bigger.”

“Agnes, I really don’t . . .” But his voice trailed off as he gazed at the bluish ball of light. She was right. It was getting bigger. And it was moving. When he first saw it, it was near the right side of the harem, but now it was definitely closer to the middle.

“Maybe it’s a shooting star?” he said.

“Shooting stars leave a trail as they enter the atmosphere.”

“Well, I don’t know, what’s your suggestion?”

Agnes didn’t get a chance to answer because the star flared up, streaking across the sky. Leo was about to rub it in her face that he was right, it was a shooting star, when suddenly, something crashed into the ground nearby. The car was lifted up in the air before thudding down again, and Leo found himself toppling over onto his sister. A wave of dirt slammed into his face, making him cough and choke.

“What . . .” Agnes spluttered, pushing Leo up off her. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, a sudden determination setting in. “But we’re going to find out.”

Part Three

The Knottle Plains and Old Port City, Kaolin

12

Sera

SERA WAS FLYING.

She’d felt frightened for only the first few seconds, when the City Above the Sky swirled in her vision as she tumbled through space. Its underside was a beauty—sloping sheets of sunglass that ended in long stalactites, hanging suspended like icicles with the tether nestled in among them.

So that’s what it looks like, she thought.

Her fall followed the line of the tether, and it was even more beautiful up close, an iridescent, shimmering chain of gold and silver and blue links. Sometimes it sparkled like dewdrops in the moonlight. Other times, it glowed like a Cerulean’s finger before a blood bond.

Slowly, the City grew smaller and fainter. Then it disappeared. And she was flying among the stars.

Of course, she wasn’t anywhere near close enough to touch one of them, but she sensed their presence as if they welcomed her to share their sky. Sometimes