The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,67

the male.

“Grayson, what is it?”

“My dear Gwendivere, I haven’t the foggiest,” the hairy-lipped male replied. “I barely understand any of this.” He gestured to Boris and then to the pond. “Old Xavier’s gone off his rocker, if you ask me.”

The woman named Gwendivere slapped his arm playfully. “You’re just mad he won’t be casting you in every play he produces anymore.”

“Yes, shockingly, I’ve enjoyed having a steady paycheck,” Grayson said. He called out to the man with the beribboned face hair. “What’s this one do, Martin? Will she turn all our hair blue or make our skin silver as the moon?”

What a ridiculous thing to say, Sera thought. How on earth would she be able to do either of those things?

“James will find out tonight,” the man named Martin replied. “There’s to be a little gathering at the McLellan house.”

“Xavier is throwing a party?” Grayson asked incredulously.

“Good morning, fellow thespians!” James’s voice echoed throughout the room as he strode up the aisle to the stage, taking the steps two at a time and finishing with an elaborate bow.

“Good morning, James,” Gwendivere said in a fluttery voice that made Sera’s nose wrinkle.

“Have you all become acquainted with our newest addition?” he asked. “She’s remarkable. Gave us quite the scare yesterday, didn’t she, Francis?” Francis looked like he’d rather not be included in this conversation.

“But what is she?” the woman demanded.

“Don’t be frightened, Gwen, she’s harmless. And you have no idea what she can do,” he added with a wink. That brought Sera up short. What did James know? Or was he lying to impress this woman? Sera wasn’t sure what to believe on this planet.

“All right, it’s time to get started,” Martin said, clapping his hands. “We’ll do a full run of the first act today. Francis, move her backstage for now, please. I’m not sure what role Xavier has planned for her yet. Everyone else, places for act one! Places!”

Sera did not know what any of that meant, but the humans sprang into action. Francis slid a large metal hook onto the chain around the crate and dragged it away until she was behind one of the red curtains. Other people were back here too, but they gave her a wide berth and she was fine with that.

The day progressed and all Sera could do was sit in her crate and watch. They appeared to be telling a story of some kind, except that instead of one person telling it, like Cerulean storytellers, many people acted out the different characters.

The plot seemed to revolve around Gwendivere and James—Gwendivere was an evil woman from Pelago, Sera gathered, who had hidden Errol and Boris away because they had great power and she wanted to keep it all for herself. James played the hero, who was searching for them to bring them back to Kaolin and save its people from famine and death. The hairy-lipped Grayson appeared to be playing a comedic role, something called a pirate. The other humans behind the curtains would laugh at his antics and silly faces. Sera didn’t find him very funny.

Her eyes were drawn again and again to James. There was something magnetic about him, as he prowled the stage and delivered his lines with passion and gusto. He was captivating to watch, and the more she watched him, the more intrigued she was by him, his build and stature, the muscles in his arms, his shirt open enough to reveal the skin of his chest, which also had hair on it. His hands were broad and sure. And his eyes were the most beautiful color green she had ever seen. Over and over she told herself to stop staring, and over and over her gaze would find its way back to him.

What was this . . . this . . . compulsion? Did James possess a magic of his own, like Errol and Boris? But no, humans did not have magic, her green mother said. And surely she would have seen human magic by now if it existed.

At last, the storytelling was over and suddenly James was kneeling by her crate.

“Almost time to leave, my lady. We’re going on a little trip,” he said with a smile that made Sera’s mouth water like she was hungry, except she did not feel hungry at all. His face was so close to hers, she could smell his skin—it had a woodsy scent that reminded her of walking through the Forest of Dawn at twilight, but with an undercurrent