The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,65

last time her father had held a party in his own house.

“I don’t rightly know,” Hattie said. “But miss, I’ve got to polish the silver. . . .”

“Of course. I’m going to retire to my room for a bit.”

“I’ll come to dress you before dinner,” Hattie said before scampering off to the dining room.

Leo was standing at the railing, looking down at the hustle and bustle in the foyer below. His face was pensive, his mood almost brooding. Agnes thought that strange—Leo loved social gatherings more than anyone else in the family.

“What’s this party for?” she asked him.

He started, as if he hadn’t even seen she was there, and touched his cheek, an odd gesture Agnes didn’t understand.

“Her, I think,” Leo said, and he sounded distracted. “The silver girl.”

“A party for Sera?” Why on earth would her father be throwing his captive a party?

“What did you call her?” he asked, and she pressed her lips together. She hadn’t been thinking. Vada’s soft gray eyes and sly smile had her all out of sorts.

Leo took a step forward. “Sera?” he said. “Agnes, how do you know her name?”

“Oh, like I’m going to tell you,” she said. “You’ll just run off to Father, and the two of you will find some way to make that poor girl even more miserable. And I won’t help with that.”

She expected some sharp retort, but instead her brother seemed to sag. “You don’t know anything,” he said, turning and trudging back toward his room.

“Leo,” she called. “Are you . . . all right?”

His door closed with a click, and Agnes was left with more questions than her mind could answer.

What had her brother so gloomy?

And what was this party about?

But the most pressing of all: How on earth was she going to get six hundred and fifty krogers by the end of the week?

20

Sera

SERA SIPPED AT THE CUP OF WATER FRANCIS HAD LEFT her for the night as she waited for Errol to emerge from his pond.

She had been so close! She had gotten free of the crate. Whatever that red-haired male had given her to make her fall asleep, she didn’t like it. It had made her limbs slow, her brain fuzzy, until her magic had burned away every last trace of it. She had been shocked when Boris had moved, knocking Leo right off his feet.

Well, now he knew what it felt like. Sera could not spare an ounce of pity for him. She only had enough for herself. She had not been able to see the tether through the glass ceiling, but that did not mean it was not there. If only she could get outside. She needed a spire to climb, someplace high where she could see for miles. Until she was certain her City was truly gone, she would not give up hope.

Her thoughts turned to the other male who had come yesterday, the one with the green eyes and dark hair who they called James. His face kept popping up in her mind for some reason. It was extremely irritating, but she could not seem to stop it. She rubbed at her eyes, as if that would make the vision disappear.

“No nasty humans poking and prodding at Errol today!” The mertag climbed out of his pond, cackling his strange croaking laugh. He plucked one of the luminescent flowers and popped it into his mouth.

“Oh no, don’t!” Sera cried. “Those are our only lights.”

“Don’t, she says? Don’t?” Errol squared his small shoulders. “I am a mertag and I make these flowers. More light she wants? Well, by urchins and eels, more light she will have!”

He dug his clawed hands into the moss and gritted his teeth. His whole body, from head to tail, began to pulse in stunning colors, like his filaments but on a much larger scale. Purple, then pink, then orange. Purple-pink-orange. Purple-pink-orange. Sera watched with wonder as tiny fronds began to sprout from the moss, blossoming right before her very eyes. Soon it was dotted with glowing flowers, giving off more than enough light to see by.

She could not help herself—she clapped enthusiastically at the display.

“How did you do that? It’s beautiful.”

Errol looked smug. “It is all part of being a mertag, Sera Lighthaven. We have sharp brains, yes, but not only brains. There is magic in our scales.” He examined his handiwork. “Though I confess I have never made so many at once before.”

“There is magic in my blood,” Sera said. “But it isn’t helping me much