The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,44

drink. “Tell me everything.”

And Leo did. He fudged a bit on the part where he’d fallen asleep, saying only that he had decided to search for the sprites near the car when he discovered Agnes. But he described the rest in detail. Xavier asked all sorts of questions about the girl, most of which Leo could not answer, as he knew nothing except what she looked like and that she spoke in a strange, almost musical language.

“And nothing out of the ordinary happened around her?” Xavier asked.

“No, sir. Nothing.” He had a feeling there was a correct answer to give, but he didn’t know what it was.

The room had darkened over the course of the evening, and Xavier leaned forward to turn on his desk lamp. “You have done well, Leo. Better than I expected.”

“Thank you, Father.”

“I want you to attend to Kiernan tomorrow as he makes his examination of her.”

Leo’s chest swelled. He was being included, at long last. He hesitated for a moment and then decided to press his luck.

“Why is this your final show, Father?”

Xavier drained the last of his whiskey and set the glass down on the desk. The movement felt calculated, as if he was deliberating what to say or whether to answer at all. Leo held his breath and waited.

“Do you know what it feels like to have nothing, Leo?” he asked in a voice as lethal as a snake’s hiss. “To have everything you hold dear crumble and turn to ashes? No, of course you don’t. Because I have ensured that you never will.” He turned to the portrait of Leo’s grandfather, eyeing it with disdain. “I keep this painting here to remind myself of how close I came to utter ruin because of one man’s unforgivable weakness. My father was much loved in Old Port—he was a jovial man, a prolific storyteller, and a big spender. But he was a drunk and a fool. What money he didn’t gamble away he spent on whiskey and women of ill repute. And through it all he lied, to me, to my mother . . . he lied with a slick tongue and a smooth grin, and we bought it hook, line, and sinker. Until the day one of the maids found him dead with a pistol in his mouth and a pile of bills at his feet. And just like that, the man I thought I knew, the man I loved and respected, was gone and my world came crashing down.”

Leo sat very still. He had never heard the story of his grandfather’s death told quite like this. He had never thought of Xavier as a son who loved his father before.

Xavier shifted in his seat, the dim light making his brown eyes look black. “Those were a hard few years. Your grandmother almost did not survive the shame. It was up to me to find a new influx of capital, and when I did, I swore to myself that I would not fail my mother like my father had. I would keep this family’s reputation intact by any means necessary.” It was a cold way to describe a marriage, but honest, Leo thought. He wondered what life had been like in this house when his mother was alive. Maybe the two of them had simply avoided each other.

“And behind every reputation,” Xavier continued, “there must be respect but, more importantly, money. The anti-Talman plays have given this family both for many years, but competition has increased and the theater scene has become glutted. If I want to keep the McLellan name relevant, it is time to move on, to adapt in ways my father could not. Innovation, Leo. That is the key to success.”

“And that’s what those creatures you found in Pelago are about? Innovation?”

A smile of steel curled on his father’s lips. “That is exactly what they are. Have you ever wondered why Pelago is so rich in resources? Why Kaolin seems to suffer from heat waves and overfishing and Pelago does not?”

Leo had always thought it had simply been a luck-of-the-draw-type situation—that Pelago happened to be fortunate in ways Kaolin wasn’t. He’d never imagined there was a specific reason behind the difference.

“The Arboreal and the mertag are not merely grotesques,” Xavier said without waiting for a response. “They have abilities, Leo. Powers you and I have never dreamed of.”

“Like . . . magic?” he asked. It sounded awfully far-fetched.

His father chuckled. “I suppose you could call it that. Magic seems too