The Alcazar (The Cerulean Duology #2) - Amy Ewing Page 0,50

grips with her new life and all that it entailed. But now was the time to stand up and claim that life; Agnes felt a shivery lightheadedness at the feel of Vada’s skin against her own.

“Come,” Vada said. “We must get inside the city before they close the gates.” Then she grinned and squeezed Agnes’s fingers. “What soft paws you have, little lion.”

Agnes’s laugh sounded more like a hiccup. She was holding hands. With a girl she liked. In public. She undid her bun and shook out her hair, feeling a strange sort of wildness, a power filling her up unlike anything she’d ever known. Lion indeed, but there was nothing little about the way Agnes felt in this moment. Vada’s smile was a dazzling thing, but she said nothing, only squeezed Agnes’s hand once more.

The docks were full of stalls selling ropes and maps and compasses as well as charcoal braziers where chunks of cod and tuna cooked alongside strips of bell pepper and zucchini and onion. Misarros were everywhere. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and fish and sweat, and underneath it all, the stench of tension.

There was a boy selling copies of the Ithilia Star and Vada was quick to purchase one. BYRNE TAKEN FROM ARBAZ, it declared. And beneath, it read:

The Triumvirate has taken a young Byrne into custody and he is currently being transported from Arbaz to Banrissa. No word on his name or which branch of the family he belongs to, but sources say Ambrosine is furious. Will she finally relent and open the passages around Culinnon?

The paper was dated today. “So they haven’t arrived in Ithilia yet,” Agnes said as she and Vada joined the swarming crowds bumping and jostling to enter the lowest, largest circle of the city. The walls loomed up over them, beautiful and impenetrable. They passed beneath the gate and Agnes marveled at the carved figurines of people and animals that decorated each side, oxen pulling carts, men pouring water from pitchers, doves in flight, women on horseback. The underside of the huge arch was detailed in squares of stone bearing the different symbols of the Triumvirate so that they formed a mosaic of silver moons, golden suns, and red stars.

Vada was skimming the rest of the paper. “Still no sign of Braxos, but there are more bodies washing up on the northern islands. A Kaolin ship was sunk trying to reach Ithilia two days ago, when it failed to heed the Misarros’ warning to turn around. The president of Kaolin is threatening to send his navy if the Triumvirate doesn’t stop attacking Kaolins.” She shook her head. “We must be leaving Ithilia as quickly as possible.”

“We need to find my grandmother,” Agnes said determinedly.

“We can hire a metapar,” Vada said. Agnes frowned at the unfamiliar Pelagan word. “It is a horse-drawn cart with a driver,” Vada explained. “Like your hansom cabs back in Old Port. But Agnes, I am not knowing where we will be finding Ambrosine Byrne. And I’m not sure it’s safe to simply be asking around.”

Agnes fingered the letter in her pocket. I have friends at the University of Ithilia, her grandmother had written.

“Don’t worry, Vada,” she said. “I know how to find her.”

15

Leo

IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE THEY’D LEFT ARBAZ AND Leo hadn’t seen a glimpse of Sera.

Not since that first night, after Sera had spoken to Leela.

He’d been so relieved to be able to feel his body again after the disorienting experience of seeing through Sera’s eyes in that strange underground place. His brain had still been processing what had happened, and then Rahel was back with the peach cobbler, which he’d forgotten about entirely, but it didn’t matter because Sera had begun to glow. Her eyes were fiery blue suns as she stared down the princess, and spoke to her in Pelagan. But even that surprise had had to wait because then Leo was seeing things.

It was like when he and Sera blood bonded, except this time there was only one memory and it was Rahel’s. He’d watched, half fascinated, half disgusted, as Rahel blamed a servant girl for breaking a vase she herself had smashed and then delighted in the girl’s punishment. Then the memory had vanished and Rahel screamed for her Misarro.

Eireen had come running, taken one look at Rahel’s blubbering face, her shaking finger pointing at Sera, and before Leo could move or think, the Misarro had grabbed Sera, pinning her arms down and dragging