The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(54)

Her eyes were drawn again and again to James. There was something magnetic about him, as he prowled the stage and delivered his lines with passion and gusto. He was captivating to watch, and the more she watched him, the more intrigued she was by him, his build and stature, the muscles in his arms, his shirt open enough to reveal the skin of his chest, which also had hair on it. His hands were broad and sure. And his eyes were the most beautiful color green she had ever seen. Over and over she told herself to stop staring, and over and over her gaze would find its way back to him.

What was this . . . this . . . compulsion? Did James possess a magic of his own, like Errol and Boris? But no, humans did not have magic, her green mother said. And surely she would have seen human magic by now if it existed.

At last, the storytelling was over and suddenly James was kneeling by her crate.

“Almost time to leave, my lady. We’re going on a little trip,” he said with a smile that made Sera’s mouth water like she was hungry, except she did not feel hungry at all. His face was so close to hers, she could smell his skin—it had a woodsy scent that reminded her of walking through the Forest of Dawn at twilight, but with an undercurrent of something she could only identify as male. She had a sudden desire to run her fingers through his hair and see what it felt like.

It hit her then, with the force of her orange mother’s cherry cordial. This was not magic. This was attraction. She wanted this male, the way she had tried to want Koreen or Treena or any of the other girls her age and failed. The thing she had longed for above all else, the one secret she had kept from those she cared for . . . she had been wrong. This whole time. She was not incapable of love.

She loved males.

All the air left her lungs in a whoosh. How could she have known? She had never seen a male until she had come to this planet. And now she knew and the knowing was painful and confusing.

And yet, there was a strange sense of comfort too, as if a missing puzzle piece had been found and the picture of who she truly was came into perfect clarity. She understood herself in a way she had previously been unable to, and there was relief in that.

“Are you all right?” James asked, his voice thick with concern. Sera blinked and realized there were tears in her eyes. She turned away, embarrassed. “Francis, help her out of there, will you?”

The young male crouched beside her, taking a ring of keys from James’s outstretched hand.

“Listen,” Francis said softly. “I know you don’t know what I’m saying, but . . . I’ve got to let you out and they’re going to take you away now for a little while, and it would be best for you if you didn’t try to run. They’ll hurt you if you do, I think.” As if to prove the point, two shadowy figures, males in dark suits and hats, appeared around the crate. Boris was too far away to help her.

Sera had to be honest with herself. Her two previous escape attempts had not gone particularly well. Maybe she would have a better chance once she got to wherever they were taking her.

Once she was out of the crate, Francis handed James the keys, and James put bracelets on her wrists, but not delicate ones like her stargem bracelets. These were heavy and iron; they kept her hands close together with a strong chain, and they chafed against her skin. She pulled hard to see if she could break them apart, but they were stronger than the slats of the crate.

A shiny black car waited for them outside. Sera caught a glimpse of tall buildings lining a very large street before James opened a door and helped her into the back—the seats were sticky with heat and the windows were darkened so she could not see out. The other men got into the front two seats.

This car moved faster than the one she had been in with Agnes, and the ride was smoother. When it stopped, James opened the door, and she found herself in front of a grand dwelling, multistoried with lots of windows. There were even more men in suits prowling around it, and Sera had the sense they were guarding something.

Me, she realized.

They walked through a garden and her heart ached at the scent of hydrangeas. The sky was a darker blue than she had yet seen it, the sunlight a rich honeyed yellow tinged with orange. She, James, and the two men entered the dwelling through a door that led to a kitchen. Lots of people were bustling around, but they all stopped to stare at her.

“Mr. Roth.” An older woman with a golden triangle at her throat and a tiny white cap pinned to her head came hurrying up. “Mr. McLellan has been expecting you. He is in his study and told me to send you there as soon as you arrived. I can take her from here.”

“Gladly, Mrs. Phelps. I assume she’ll be cleaned up a bit before the evening,” James said.

Mrs. Phelps glanced at Sera, the corners of her mouth turning down at the sight of her dirty cloudspun robe. “Yes, Hattie is just filling the tub now. Mr. McLellan has hired private security, so you needn’t worry, she won’t be going anywhere.”

“Yes, ma’am, I know. Pemberton men are the best.”

“Mr. McLellan spared no expense. Take those handcuffs off for now. You can put them back on once she’s cleaned and ready.”

Sera was only half listening. This dwelling was quite tall. Maybe if there was a way to get to the very top of it . . .

James took off the bracelets with a key. Sera shivered when his hands brushed her skin. “I will see you at the party, my lady.”

The two men shadowed her as she followed Mrs. Phelps out of the kitchen, and the stares continued as she entered a large area covered in plush carpet and then climbed up a set of stairs with a wooden banister. How many people lived in this dwelling? Most of the women had little white caps, and the men wore the same jacket-and-trouser combination.