The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(42)

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, putting the bowl and bucket down. “I’m just going to cut one of the slats so I can get these in. I’m not allowed keys, and besides, Mr. McLellan would have my hide if I unlocked that chain.” He looked at her with pity in his eyes. “They should have left all this for you last night. I’m sorry about that.”

He seemed sincere, but Sera did not believe him. She watched as he cut away a piece of wood, enough to slide the bowl and bucket through.

“Barley and carrot soup. It’s cold, but it’ll have to do for now.”

Sera waited until he and the saw had vanished behind the curtain before crawling over to inspect the food. She knew she should be careful, but at the smell of broth and carrot, her stomach let out a great roar and she found herself halfway through the soup before she knew it.

Once she’d finished, she watched the male water the tree called Boris with a huge watering can and realized that he talked to everything, not just her.

“How’s that for a good breakfast, Boris? Your saplings are looking quite nice today. They’re bigger than they were yesterday, I’d wager. I’ll get you some sun just as soon as I’ve fed Errol.”

Then he left and returned again with a different bucket filled with something that smelled pungent and meaty.

“Time for some grub, Errol,” he called as he stood on the moss’s edge and scattered whatever was in the bucket into the water where Errol lived. It made wet, plopping sounds.

Sera was confused by this behavior—he seemed kind, certainly the kindest male she had encountered so far. But he would not let her out, and he was part of whatever operation had brought her here to begin with. How could someone so kind be involved with people so cruel? After he fed Errol, he disappeared again. There was a loud cranking sound, and the cover on the ceiling began to retract. Sera dropped her soup bowl and pressed her face against the top of the crate as, inch by inch, the sky began to appear.

The sky! It was not the sky she knew, but a crisp, robin’s-egg blue, not a star in sight. Sunlight shone through the glass panes on the ceiling, a richer yellow than the sunlight she was used to, and landed on the slender tree and its saplings. Sera thought the tree seemed to straighten a bit, its leaves rustling and its branches stretching.

“Bet that feels good, doesn’t it?” the male said, coming back and giving the trunk a pat.

Just then, a door at the back of the dwelling opened and a man with a mass of red hair carrying a small black bag bustled in, followed by a very familiar face.

Sera hissed as Leo walked up the aisle between the red-covered seats.

“Good morning, Francis,” the red-haired man said cheerily.

“Good morning, Mr. Kiernan,” the kind male replied.

“I heard we have a new addition,” he said, walking up a set of steps on the side of the platform.

“Indeed, sir.”

“Have you met Leo McLellan? Xavier’s son. He and his sister Agnes are responsible for this latest capture.”

Sera had not realized Leo and Agnes were related—they looked and acted nothing alike. Francis and Leo gripped each other’s hands and moved them up and down.

“Boris is looking happy today,” the man named Kiernan said. “That’s what we call the Arboreal,” he added, explaining to Leo. “And Errol is our mertag. He’s quite shy, I’m afraid. Spends most of his time at the bottom of that pond. Now.” He clapped his hands together and turned his attention to Sera. “Let’s have a look at what you discovered in the plains!”

He crouched by the crate, and when he saw her, the pink flush in his pale cheeks vanished, and his eyes grew so wide Sera thought they might fall out of their sockets.

“My . . . my goodness,” he said breathlessly.

“What is it, sir?” Leo asked. “Do you know what she is?”

“I am a Cerulean, you idiot,” Sera snapped at him. Leo looked startled at the fierceness of her tone, and Sera felt a grim sense of satisfaction, before she remembered she shouldn’t have spoken at all. But the two males did not notice she understood him.

“She doesn’t seem to like you much,” Kiernan said with a chuckle. “And I do not know what she is. She almost looks like . . .” He hesitated, leaning forward to study her more closely, then shook his head. “No, she is nothing I have seen before. But let’s find out a bit about her, shall we?”

Sera didn’t know what was happening. Kiernan was rifling through the bag, pulling out a long needle with a bulb on the end of it—Sera had a wild thought that he was expecting her to sew something when the needle pierced the skin on her foot and she gave a cry and then everything went dark.





17

Agnes

AGNES WAS MOROSE ALL THROUGH BREAKFAST.

Her father stopped in just as she was finishing her coffee. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she replied stiffly.

“Ready to meet with your fiancé?” He frowned. “I should have had Leo pick you out something to wear.”

Agnes didn’t see anything wrong with her dress—it was navy blue with red accents and a white ruffle on the neck. Hattie had insisted on pinning a matching navy-and-red hat to the front of her hair. For Agnes, this outfit was positively flamboyant.