The Alcazar (The Cerulean Duology #2) - Amy Ewing Page 0,13

was cut off by a young boy scampering into the room.

“Mama, Mama!” he said, tears in his eyes. “Parisa took my—” He stopped and frowned. “Why you speaking Kaolish, Mama?”

Sera could never tell who was speaking what language since they all sounded the same to her. She thought it very kind of Phebe to speak to Leo and Agnes in their native tongue. But now she realized it was also dangerous—and even more dangerous for this little boy to see a goddess in his house. Quickly she put the headdress back on.

“Carrick, go back to the kitchen to your father,” Phebe said sharply. “Mama has visitors, I told you that before.”

A wiry man with pale skin and long hair the color of honey came hurrying in, an infant squealing and stretching in his arms.

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, taking the boy’s arm. “He got away from me. I’ll—”

But he stopped short at the sight of Leo and gasped. “He looks exactly like her.”

“I told you,” Phebe replied.

“Princess Rahel?” Carrick asked, looking up at Sera. “Mama, you bring princess home?”

“No, darling, these are Mama’s friends,” Phebe said. “Princesses don’t come to dressmakers’ houses; she came to my shop like I was telling you, remember?”

Carrick smiled at Sera smugly. “My mama is famous,” he said.

Phebe shot her husband a pleading look. “Get him to bed, Davin.”

“Did you see the evening papers?” the man asked.

She gave him a curt nod that effectively ended the conversation.

“Come now, Carrick,” Davin said as the baby in his arms let out a wide yawn. He kissed Phebe on the cheek. “Dinner’s all ready. I sent Tabitha away, as you asked.” He glanced at Leo. “I see why now.”

Once they were gone, Sera removed the headdress again and shook out her bright blue hair.

“My apologies,” Phebe said. “The children weren’t meant to be up now but, well, with a seven-year-old, a five-year-old, and an infant, Davin and I have very little say over how things go in this house. Though I wish Carrick hadn’t heard me speaking Kaolish.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“We didn’t mean to put you in any danger,” Agnes said.

Phebe gave her a weary smile. “You are the closest thing to children Eneas ever had. It’s no trouble, we’ll just have to have a talk with him tomorrow. Please sit,” she said, gesturing to the driftwood table. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m so glad Eneas is okay,” Agnes said as they took seats on the benches. “I was worried.”

“Phebe seemed quite accepting of Sera,” Leo said. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

“She is one person and was prepared for her,” Vada said. “I do not think we would be getting the same reaction in the market.”

Sera agreed.

“What did her husband mean about the newspapers?” Agnes asked. Sera had noticed that too.

“We should have been buying one when we first arrived,” Vada said. “But with the Misarros and Dorinda and Princess Rahel, I forgot.”

Sera wanted to know more about this princess they’d seen, but Phebe returned then and a most familiar and delicious scent filled the air.

“Fried squash blossoms,” she said, placing a platter on the table. “An old Ofairn recipe. And here are some dates dipped in honey and stuffed with blue cheese. We would have made lamb but Leo tells me you are vegetarian. I’ll be right back with the main course.”

The squash blossoms were not quite the same as the ones she was used to—the flowers were orange, not yellow, and they did not seem as crispy. But hot tears filled Sera’s eyes at the sight of them.

“Are you all right?” Leo asked.

“They remind me of the ones my green mother used to make for me,” she said. “They were my favorite.”

Agnes squeezed her hand under the table.

“Right,” Phebe said, returning with a large dish of steaming butternut squash, sliced in half with its insides scooped out, filled with farro and onions, feta cheese and dried cherries. It all looked agonizingly good. “Let’s eat, shall we?”

Sera piled her plate with as much food as it could hold, and for many long minutes there was no sound but chewing and swallowing and the occasional gulp of water. When at last their bellies were full, Phebe pushed her plate back and let out a contented sigh.

“Well,” she said. “I’m told you are all trying to get to Braxos, but the details were a bit vague back in the market. Not that I blame you. It’s dangerous to speak of such things in public now. Especially