The Alcazar (The Cerulean Duology #2) - Amy Ewing Page 0,63

escort you to your rooms,” Ambrosine said. “I’ve lodged you on the same hall. I thought you would wish to be near each other. You seem such close friends.”

Leo’s cheeks turned pink, the way they did when he was embarrassed. They were close friends, though, weren’t they? So why did it make Sera’s tummy go all wriggly?

Bellamy led them to their rooms in silence. Sera was trying to think of something to say to her when she stopped abruptly.

“Here you are,” she said. “I hope you had a pleasant dinner.”

The words were mechanical, more obligation than warmth.

“It was very nice,” Sera said. “I wish we could have spoken with you more.”

Bellamy gazed at the red-carpeted floor. “She doesn’t like it when I talk.”

“We noticed,” Leo said dryly.

“You must miss your husband very much,” Sera said. “If Ambrosine always brings you with her when she travels.”

Bellamy’s eyes filled with tears. “She likes to take me away from him,” she said. “A punishment.”

“A punishment for what?” Sera asked.

“For marrying me.” Bellamy ducked her head. “Good night.” Then she turned and scurried down the hall.

Sera and Leo looked at each other.

“For being all about family, Ambrosine doesn’t like her own daughter-in-law much,” Leo mused.

“No,” Sera agreed. “Poor thing.”

“Ambrosine’s going to be disappointed when she realizes you don’t know how to get to Braxos.”

“I know,” she said wearily. “But we can face that hurdle another time.”

Leo chuckled. “True. Let’s get some sleep.” As she moved to open her door, he said, “Sera?”

She turned and he was looking at her strangely, in a way that made her feel like her insides had turned to clouds, airy and weightless. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Oh.” Her heart picked up speed in her chest. “Thank you,” she said. “So do you.”

He laughed and she felt her magic stir inside her, embarrassed. Perhaps that had not been the right thing to say.

“See you in the morning,” he said.

“In the morning,” she repeated.

She barely noticed the grandeur of her room as she stripped off her dress and crawled into bed, and when she at last drifted off, she dreamt of an indigo sky covered with stars, and a crown of shells in a nest of curls.

18

Agnes

MATTHIAS LED AGNES AND VADA TO THE VERY BACK OF the library, to a solid copper door with an imposing lock.

He drew a ring of keys out of his pocket and used a large brass skeleton one to open it.

“These are the archives,” he said. “They hold the largest collection of Pelago’s most ancient texts.”

The archives were dim and cool, with a domed ceiling and walls made of stone. Sconces held lamps with glass so thick it distorted the flame within. The air was dry and musty and smelled faintly of peppermint. The shelves contained all manner of written work, leather-bound books with peeling spines, scrolls with fraying edges piled on top of each other, sheaths of yellowing paper. They followed Matthias to the back, where the oldest tomes were kept. Very carefully, he took a thick scroll out from where it sat in its own pigeonhole.

“These came from my family,” he said. “Writings from one of the earliest matriarchs of the Byrnes, a woman named Agata. They were donated to the archives by my great-great-grandmother. I’m sure my mother wishes she could get them back, but they belong to the university now. She came today, though, to read them. Secretly too—if the Triumvirate knew she was in Ithilia, they’d call her to Banrissa. It was the first time I’d seen her in . . . oh, years now. Not since Hektor’s wedding.” He held out the scroll to Agnes. “You should read this. It’s part of your history too, after all.”

The paper was so thin, she worried it would disintegrate in her hands. Vada leaned over her shoulder as they read. Most of the words were illegible, smudged or faded with time. But there was enough left that Agnes could piece together.

. . . set out to explore the north and discovered . . . island with palace atop a cliff. Jewels filled the waters . . . wanted to turn back but we had come too far to return to Culinnon with nothing . . . my duty as a Byrne for the f . . . a power greater than anything I ever thought possible . . . past, present, and future, all contained in . . . spoke to me and gave gifts that will keep this family