The Alcazar (The Cerulean Duology #2) - Amy Ewing Page 0,82

us time to reach the birthing houses.”

Estelle grabbed her wrist. “What is your name again?”

“Leela,” Leela said. “And this is Elorin.”

Elorin gave a little cough by way of greeting. They climbed up the stairs beneath Faesa’s statue and as soon as they emerged into the Moon Gardens, Estelle collapsed onto the earth, sobbing and pulling up giant fistfuls of grass.

“Stop,” Leela whispered. “Oh, please, Estelle, stop, we cannot be seen or heard.”

Estelle took a deep, shuddering breath. “I am sorry,” she said. “The feel of grass, the fragrance of roses, the whisper of the wind . . . how precious these things are, that I once took for granted. How painfully beautiful the world is.” She turned her eyes upward to the stars. “They do look as I remember.” Then she rose to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her.

“How long will the fruit sustain you?” Leela asked.

“I’m not sure. It lasts longer when I am . . .” She swallowed, and Leela knew she could not bring herself to name her prison. “A few hours, perhaps.”

Leela turned to Elorin. “Wait inside. No sense in both of us getting caught.”

Elorin nodded, then turned and headed back to the dormitory. Leela beckoned for Estelle to follow her. They crossed Faesa’s Bridge in silence and headed past the stargem mines, down the lesser used paths that Leela had become familiar with over the course of her late-night visits with Kandra. Only when they reached the forest and slipped in among the trees, where no Cerulean could hear, did she begin to tell her tale to Estelle. She listened with surprising calm, Leela thought, though perhaps she was just grateful to be listening to anyone at all again. Occasionally she would pause to touch the wrinkled bark of a tree trunk, or cock her head at the chirp of a cricket as if there were no more beautiful sound in the world.

They had nearly reached the birthing houses by the time Leela had gotten to the part about the High Priestess’s circlet. Estelle placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Never have I met a Cerulean as brave as you,” she said.

Leela’s cheeks warmed. “Sera is braver. And I could not have done half of what I have without Elorin. But we must be quiet now. Kandra is in the last house, farthest from the path.”

Leela paid no mind to the sacred circle of white and blue pebbles, crossing over them without a second thought. The birthing houses were deathly silent. The garlands of flowers strung among them were leeched of color in the moonlight and the obelisk was a mere ghost in the darkness. Leela and Estelle crept forward, quiet and alert. They reached the last house and Leela gripped the knob, gave Estelle a bracing look, and turned it.

This birthing house was much the same as the one Kandra had shown her the first time they had met here—a single room, round and domed, with a bed, a table with a pitcher and basin, and a bassinet to one side. Kandra was lying on the bed and Leela assumed she was sleeping until she sat up abruptly.

“Who’s there?” she called. But her voice was small and sad and flat, as if she did not really care that strangers were coming into her room in the middle of the night.

Estelle let out a strangled sob and stumbled forward. “Kandra,” she said. “Kandra, it’s me.”

There was the sound of a match striking and then a flame glowed inside a glass lantern. For several long moments Kandra and Estelle stared at each other. Leela did not dare to move for fear she would break the moment.

Very slowly, Kandra stood. “Are you real?”

Tears were falling thick down Estelle’s cheeks. “Yes,” she said. “I’m real.”

Then the two women fell into each other’s arms, and Leela felt tears well in her own eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Kandra said over and over as Estelle murmured the same thing.

“I ran away,” Kandra said, pulling back and wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I should never have left you. I didn’t believe it was really you but it was. Oh, Estelle, I’m so sorry.”

“Shhhh,” Estelle said. “It is all right. You have nothing to be sorry for. You thought I was dead. I’m sorry that I did not tend to our friendship as I should have. You got married and I felt like I had no place in your life. I drifted away out of fear and in doing so, I lost my