The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(110)

The lights came up and Agnes seemed pale and sweaty, like she might throw up. She had to keep up appearances better, Leo thought. If Xavier began to suspect anything, they were screwed. Fortunately, their father didn’t even glance at her as the mayor and his wife, sitting in the booth behind them, had leaned forward to offer congratulations.

“My god, that fish creature was something else, Xavier. I thought Arabella was going to faint.”

“But that tree is absolutely lovely. And the garden—I’ve never seen flowers like those before!”

“I beg your pardon, Father,” Leo said. “But Kiernan told me to check on the creatures at intermission, just to be sure everything was going smoothly.”

Xavier’s eyes glossed over Leo, and began moving toward the throngs below waiting to congratulate him. “Yes, of course,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Leo shot Agnes a hard look and she stood.

“I’m going to get a refreshment,” she said in a stilted voice. Their father gave no sign that he had heard her—he had already turned back to the mayor. She and Leo made it down to the lobby and he gripped her elbow.

“Get it together,” he hissed. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

“Father knows I’ve been to the Seaport,” she said.

“What?”

“He told me before the show started. Threatened me, really.” She tugged at her dress. “Guess he’s going to be disappointed on that score.”

“Does he know about us working together?”

She shook her head. “He thinks I’m trying to flee my engagement and run off to Pelago.” Her face turned sad. “Poor Errol,” she murmured. “In that net . . . and Boris is so lovely. They’re real, Leo. They’re marvelous and real and . . . god, he’s such a monster, keeping them like this.”

“Yes, yes, we’ve established that. But we’ve got our own jobs to do. We’ve got to trust Sera now. She’ll get them out.”

“Not Boris,” Agnes said. Leo thought she might cry, but instead she took a deep, fortifying breath. “I know. You’re right. It’s just all so overwhelming, now that it’s happening.” She let out a disgruntled huff. “I should’ve known one of his spies would have seen me at the docks.”

“At least he doesn’t know what you’re really up to,” Leo muttered, glancing around at the attendees milling about, gossiping over the first act in between sips of champagne and bites of caviar. He had to get backstage. He wanted to see Sera one last time before this whole plot began—or ended. One way or another. “I’ll get us a cab and have it waiting at the corner by the backstage door. You leave when—”

“Right as James Roth and Grayson Riggs start to sword fight. I know.” Agnes pressed her clutch to her chest and gazed up at him, her cinnamon eyes full of anxiety. “We can do this, right?”

“We can do this,” Leo said.

She flashed him a wobbly smile.

Leo wove his way through the crowds and platters of canapés back to the theater, where he pretended to check on the moss in Errol’s pond just in case his father happened to be looking.

“Get ready, Errol, you’re almost up,” he muttered. Then he climbed the steps to the stage and slipped behind the curtain. Crew members were clearing props and rolling on set pieces for the beginning of the second act. Sera’s crate was nowhere to be found.

“She’s in dressing room three,” Francis said softly, and Leo whirled around. “The one with all the Pembertons by the door.”

“Thanks.”

“I won’t let her down,” he promised.

“I know,” Leo said, and he found he truly believed it. Whoever this slight young man was, he had a big heart and his every word rang with sincerity. Leo wondered how someone like him had ever come to work for Xavier McLellan.

He wanted to say more but didn’t have the words, and even if he did, they would be too dangerous. So he held out a hand.

Francis grinned and shook it. “Good luck,” he said. “Take care of her.”

Leo nodded, a lump growing in his throat. He found the dressing room easily enough, and the men stepped aside at the mention of his father. The room was small and warm, a copper basin in one corner and a desk in another. Sera was sitting in a stout leather armchair, and she stood as he entered.

“Leo,” she said, a smile breaking across her face. A smile. For him. Leo felt a sudden wave of light-headedness. They had bathed her and done up her hair in a pile of soft blue curls. She wore a stupid crown in the shape of the sun on her head, but her dress was magnificent—champagne satin that clung to her body in a way that suddenly had him feeling very distracted. He buttoned his tuxedo jacket and cleared his throat.

“It’s almost time,” he said. “I’m off to get a cab to take me and Agnes to the Seaport. Agnes says our ship is small and at the very northern edge of the docks. It’s called the Maiden’s Wail.”

“Got it,” Sera said with a nod. “Errol says he can find any ship, day or night. He’s very confident.”

“That makes one of us.”

Sera took a step toward him. Leo could feel the heat from her body, the floral-starlight scent of her surrounding him.

“I misjudged you,” she said.