flowers that provided the light.
At the back of the platform, the wood vanished and a garden had been planted, thick grass and tiny flowers growing among spry saplings. In the center of the garden stood a slender tree, its bark silvery white, with leaves of jade inlaid with blue veins that made them look turquoise. The saplings were not nearly as magnificent in color, plain brown trunks and green leaves.
For some reason, Sera felt the tree seemed sad. Its branches were bent like it carried a heavy load, and there were markings on its trunk that looked like a face frowning. It was not a very big tree—she would be able to reach its topmost branches if she stood beside it on her tiptoes. She wondered what it was doing here, inside . . . whatever this place was. And the moss and flowers too. Why would the people of Kaolin grow moss and trees inside?
And what was she doing here? What did they want with her?
She shuddered, recalling the events of the previous evening. The low-voiced girl was actually a male named Leo—Sera had realized it when she saw him in the daylight. Males looked sort of like females, except they had no breasts and were taller and hairier and meaner. She touched the spot on her temple where the other male’s fist had crashed into her skull. Sera had never been hit in her whole life. It had hurt so much, but the magic in her blood had healed the bruise, leaving her skin smooth and unblemished so that only the memory of the pain remained.
The one person who had shown her kindness was the girl called Agnes. Sera had been hesitant to offer up her hair, worried that Agnes would try to steal her magic like the humans on the last planet had, but it was only hair, not blood, and Sera had felt she needed some kind of help if she was to ever have any hope of getting home.
But Agnes wasn’t here now, and Sera didn’t know if she’d ever see her again. Her pulse quickened, her mind turning over her options, the slats of the crate closing in on her. The truth was she had no options. She was trapped. Her City was far away. And she couldn’t even speak the same language as these people. Her green mother had said the Cerulean could communicate with those on the planet, but Sera couldn’t see how. Was there some secret, lost over time, some ritual or practice that would unlock the barrier of communication?
You can write, though, she reminded herself. That had been shocking. She had only meant to trace what she remembered of the symbols on the ancient bowl that had told her Heal them. She thought maybe the symbols held some clue as to why the ceremony had failed, why she’d ended up here—and secretly, in her heart of hearts, she hoped maybe they could help lead her home. She should have told the High Priestess about them, but she had been overwhelmed then, and had never considered the possibility of being trapped on Kaolin. So she had poked her fingers through that horrible net and written out in the dirt what she could recall and then, while Agnes was wishing aloud that she could understand Sera’s language, she found herself making different sorts of symbols, ones she’d never seen before. Sera did not know how she knew it was her name she was spelling out, but she did, as certainly as she knew the sound of her purple mother’s harp or the scent of a moonflower. And Agnes had been able to read it.
Maybe there had been another ceremony already, to make up for her failure. Perhaps a better Cerulean had been chosen, one who was truly worthy, and the City was already drifting through space, leaving Sera stuck on this planet forever. The thought was so unbearable, she began kicking at the crate again. If she could just see the stars . . .
Or the tether! She stopped kicking and sat up. If she could find the tether, she would know her City was still up there. Maybe it even held a clue as to how to get home. The problem was she didn’t know where the tether was attached. She was in Kaolin. What if it was in Pelago? Would she be able to see it if it was so far away? And how far away was far away? She