The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(49)
“How do I look?” Leo asked, and James laughed.
“Good as new,” he said. “My god. Who is this girl?”
Triumph lit up Xavier’s eyes, small torches of greed that made Leo wish for a split second that the blood had done nothing and he’d been left to suffer the pain. He could still hear the laugh in his ears; it was carefree and full of joy, and something about it made Leo feel deeply ashamed.
“That,” Xavier said, “is not our concern.” He took the vial from Kiernan’s hand and held it up to the light. “We are going to need more of this. Much, much more.”
They left him to convalesce, even though he didn’t really need to. Leo felt that they wanted to talk about all this without him being there, which shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up gingerly, testing out his newly healed head. He walked to his vanity, staring at his face in the mirror. It was exactly the same as it had been this morning.
Incredible, he had to admit. But also confusing and a bit worrying. He felt like he’d unlocked some secret door that wasn’t his business and was best kept closed. He straightened and put his hands in his pockets, wondering what he should do now, when he felt something sharp against his palm. He pulled out the star necklace, its stone glowing like moonlight.
He held it up, deliberating. He should hand it over to his father—surely Xavier would be pleased by the show of loyalty. But he remembered how desperately the girl had clutched at her neck, the agonized wail when she discovered it was gone. The stone was cool against his hand, reminding him of the soothing sensation as her blood had healed his wounds.
His father had the girl locked in a crate in his theater. Surely that was enough.
Leo hid the necklace in the back of his sock drawer.
19
Agnes
ENEAS DROVE HER TO THE SEAPORT AFTER SHE LEFT THE Grange house.
The docks were always bustling with activity, but they were more crowded this afternoon than usual. In addition to the ships unloading various cargo—large crates of produce and heavy sacks filled with spices and olives or ornate trunks stuffed with Pelagan aurums ready to be exchanged for krogers—there were now hastily erected tents promising maps to Braxos, infallible compasses, and manuals for discerning gemstones. Signs were posted in front of most ships, announcing exorbitant prices for berths and schedules of departures. Agnes knew it would only get worse in the coming days, as more and more treasure seekers swelled into Old Port in search of passage to Pelago.
Fishermen sold skewers of grilled cod and scallops while fresh octopus tentacles cooked under their watchful gaze; prostitutes leaned out of the windows of brothels, wearing wisps of clothes and calling down to the sailors below. The wide main walkway was spattered with blood, cigarette butts, fish guts, and other fluids whose origins Agnes did not wish to think about.
She had told Eneas to wait by the car, that she was only going to buy some bracelets that the fishermen’s wives sold, but she wasn’t sure he believed her. She made certain to pick up a few at the first stall she passed as evidence; she bought him a bag of his favorite candied walnuts as well, hoping that might placate him.
Agnes kept her eye out for the Pelagan flag, green with the silver crest of Pelago emblazoned on it, two horses rearing on either side of an olive tree. But the only flags she saw bore the red stripes and golden sun of Kaolin. Then she noticed two women wearing the traditional lace gowns and ornate shell headdresses of the Pelagan upper class, weaving through the crowds arm in arm. She fell into step behind them, hoping they might be searching for a ship as well.
They spoke in Pelagan, and Agnes’s grasp of the language was not strong enough to understand them. But they led her to a ship and her spirits leaped. It was a large but graceful galleon with a horse’s head carved into the bow. The captain, a middle-aged Pelagan woman, called out to the ladies on the dock. She strode down the gangplank and welcomed them in their native tongue, kissing their hands and fawning over them. Agnes loitered around, waiting for the women to finish their dealings so she could approach the captain herself. She felt in her pocket for the bag of jewelry and worried that this ship might be too grand for her meager payment. If only she could access her account at the bank herself! She had a trust with enough krogers to buy her passage on this ship, she was sure. But her father would never give her permission to take out so much money.
Suddenly, a sign by the gangplank caught her eye.
PELAGAN PAISIVATIS MONACH
And underneath, in Kaolish, was written:
PELAGAN PASSENGERS ONLY
Agnes’s heart sank. This ship wouldn’t take her no matter how many krogers she offered. She left the women and wandered down the docks, seeing similar signs on other ships flying the Pelagan flag. She reached the end of the docks and was about to turn around and head back to the car, in shame and defeat, when she saw the schooner. It was unimpressive and ramshackle, a tattered flag hanging from its prow, faded to nearly colorless, but Agnes could make out the shape of a horse and part of a tree.
The ship appeared to be deserted except for a single girl, maybe a year or two older than Agnes herself, sitting on a wooden bollard at the foot of the gangplank, smoking a clove cigarette and whittling away at a chunk of driftwood. Agnes stood for a moment, unsure of what to do, if this girl was even part of the crew of this schooner or if she’d just found a convenient spot to sit and smoke. Finally, she decided she had to try.