The Alcazar (The Cerulean Duology #2) - Amy Ewing Page 0,97

against him. It made Hektor’s warning all the worse.

“I like this island,” she said. “But it seems sad. Beautiful, but sad.”

“Hektor says it’s like a prison.”

“Hm. Yes, maybe it is. It reminds me of a caged bird, something pretty but trapped, struggling to be free.”

Her description made Leo think back to Old Port, how he had been instrumental in locking Sera up in that crate, and for a moment he was overwhelmed with disgust at himself, at the person he used to be. But he wasn’t that person anymore and he’d be damned if anyone tried to take away Sera’s freedom again.

It didn’t matter what Ambrosine wanted. Sera deserved to go home and Leo was going to make sure she got there. Even if it broke his heart to do it.

The storm started just as Leo and Sera were summoned to dinner.

The dining room was like a huge domed greenhouse. Glass panels climbed high above them, with all sorts of plants hanging from rafters or crawling along iron moldings. Heart-leafed philodendrons and peperomias dangled their rich greenery from ornate ceramic pots overhead; red ivy wound its way along the walls, while delicate peace lilies and soft, rose-tipped painted ladies dotted the ground. The table itself was made of a massive tree trunk, its rings preserved with enamel, carved out to fit the chairs. An elegant candelabra sat in its center, thick green candles perched in the mouths of copper roses.

A clap of thunder rang out and rain poured down the glass, distorting the world outside.

“Leo, come sit here,” Ambrosine said, indicating the chair beside her. “I hear you and Sera visited one of my Arboreal groves today.”

Leo glanced at his uncle, seated on Ambrosine’s other side, but Hektor’s face was a blank canvas, revealing nothing.

“We did,” he said, taking his seat. “I didn’t know there were more than one.”

“Oh yes, we have seven groves on Culinnon,” she said.

“Seven?” Sera gasped.

Ambrosine looked pleased. “Yes.”

“But then why do you not share them?” Sera asked. “With so many, you could start groves on other islands.”

Ambrosine frowned like Sera was being stupid on purpose. “They belong to the Byrnes,” she said. “Not some ignorant Malley from Adereen.”

Bellamy flinched, and Hektor changed the subject.

“A dove came from Ithilia,” he said to Leo. “The Kaolin navy has arrived. The Misarros are keeping them at bay for now.”

“For now?” Ambrosine’s lip curled. “Misarro warships could trump a Kaolin frigate any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Ithilia can take care of itself. Though I’m sure they’re missing the Renalt’s forces at the moment.” She smiled smugly as servants poured into the dining room, filling their glasses with sparkling scintillant and serving the first course. Bowls of a creamy pale green soup were set in front of them, a radish carved in the shape of a flower floating on top. Leo took a tentative bite—it tasted of basil and zucchini and was surprisingly delicious.

“You don’t seem too concerned that your country’s capital is under attack,” Leo noted.

Ambrosine raised one elegant eyebrow. “I’m not.”

Leo felt like he was missing something—shouldn’t Ambrosine be upset that Kaolin was attacking Pelago? Yes, Culinnon was far away and well protected, but still. Though maybe she was happy this would mean fewer ships to sink in search of Braxos.

“I was thinking of taking Leo to the cove tomorrow,” Hektor said. “He’d best start learning how to sail.”

Leo had already learned some sailing on the Maiden’s Wail, and it was really more Sera’s thing than his. He didn’t feel a need to learn more and didn’t understand why they would want him to.

“An excellent idea, Hektor,” Ambrosine said, and Hektor looked the happiest Leo had seen him since he’d embraced Bellamy on the dock that morning. “Perhaps start with—”

Just then another clap of thunder rang out as a servant rushed into the hall.

“Mistress, a ship has come,” she said, panting.

Ambrosine was on her feet in a flash. “The Renalt?” she asked. But the servant was shaking her head.

“It’s your granddaughter,” she said, and Leo’s heart flipped in his chest.

Agnes had made it to Culinnon.

27

Agnes

THE STORM HAD BEEN BREWING ALL DAY AND AGNES HAD been watching the clouds with increasing trepidation.

They’d made far better time than even Vada could have anticipated. Errol had led them from Ithilia to a hidden path, a network of rivers that ran through the island of Cairan, saving them days off their journey by not having to sail around it. He was exceptionally skilled at avoiding other ships as