The Alcazar (The Cerulean Duology #2) - Amy Ewing Page 0,55

Byrnes are brought into this world.” She gave him a look he didn’t quite understand and continued. “It was one of the worst blizzards in recent memory and the doctor was delayed. My husband couldn’t stand the screaming and the blood, but then, he was always a weak man.” She sighed and adjusted the conch in her hair. “Excellent family stock but spineless.”

As little as Leo had thought over the years about his mother and grandmother, he’d never once thought at all about his Pelagan grandfather.

“Is he on Culinnon too?” Leo asked. “My grandfather?”

“He died years ago.” She said it as casually as if she were commenting on the weather. “Anyway, the wet nurse used to say that the storm stayed inside my Alethea, the blizzard she was born into shaping the woman she became. It was nonsense but also true—Alethea was restless, she was rash, she was impetuous and could be brutally fierce when she set her mind to something.”

Leo found he rather liked that idea, of his mother inheriting a storm.

“I kept her on Culinnon for as long as I could, but she wanted Ithilia and nothing else. She wanted the lights and energy of the city, the bustle of the markets and the glory of Banrissa. It was not enough that Culinnon holds magic and beauty and mystery. It was not enough for her to wander beneath trees that sing and swim in ponds that sparkled like twilight. It was not even enough that I let her keep Eneas.” She fiddled with a button on her blazer. “I thought with time and patience and structure, she could be tamed. And the tighter I held her, the harder she tried to slip through my fingers. So what could I do? I let her go.”

For a moment, Ambrosine looked older, weary. Her shoulders hunched and she rubbed her temple. “And I lost her. I lost her there forever, though I did not know it at the time.”

Suddenly, a bell chimed out and she straightened, her expression once again cool and commanding. “It is time to dress for dinner.”

She stood and Leo followed suit.

“What—what should I call you?” he asked.

Her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile, or maybe snarl, Leo couldn’t tell. “Why don’t you just call me Ambrosine.”

He felt a pinch of relief. “All right.”

Ambrosine opened the door. “Mckenna will bring you to the dining room when you’re ready. I’m sure she’s found some more decent clothes for you by now.”

“Thank you,” Leo said, then stopped. “Oh, there’s something you should know about Sera.”

The flash of greed in his grandmother’s eyes was as unmistakable as it was unnerving. “And what is that?”

“She doesn’t eat meat,” Leo said, then strode off down the hall, his head spinning at the day’s turn of events.

16

Agnes

AGNES AND VADA JOLTED ALONG THE STREETS OF ITHILIA in the metapar, which was just a cart with one horse and driver and seats that faced backward. The streets were crafted out of all sorts of material, mainly marble, like the walls surrounding the city, but others were cobbled and a few even had jewels studded along their curbs. Most of the buildings were painted white with blue doors and shutters, and all the roofs were lined with tiles that sparkled whenever light caught them.

They drove through bustling squares with fountains featuring various goddesses—Agnes recognized Saifa, and Vada pointed out red-skinned, black-haired Bas, the goddess of death, and Farayage, the goddess of the sea, with rich brown skin and hair as green and tangled as seaweed.

Cafés spilled out onto the sidewalks, with people in all manner of dress. Agnes saw one couple, both men, arm in arm—one wore a fine linen suit that might not look out of place on the streets of Old Port, the other a shimmering silk skirt paired with a lace top. Both had simple crowns of seashells in their hair and their eyes were lined with kohl.

She was once again stunned by the sense that she could be whoever she wanted here, that she could become the Agnes she never fully believed would ever exist. Her hair, free from its bun, tickled the back of her neck in agreement.

They turned up a street that rose steadily higher and when they reached the top, Vada tugged Agnes’s arm and gestured for her to turn around.

The University of Ithilia sprawled out before her and Agnes could not contain her gasp of delight. A long gravel drive lined with cherry trees, their blossoms giving off