The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(63)

For the first time in his life, he wanted to talk to his sister.





Part Four

The City Above the Sky





23

LEELA HAD ALWAYS KNOWN HER BEST FRIEND WAS brave—far braver than Leela herself could ever be.

But when Sera turned so calmly and stepped out past the barrier of safety, blood streaming down her arms, her body willowy in stillness, Leela was hit with the enormity of what she had been chosen to do.

And then she watched helplessly as Sera spread her arms and fell from the dais. In the span of a heartbeat, she was gone.

Leela could not bring herself to stay, to witness Sera’s mothers’ agony or hear words of comfort from the High Priestess. She only wanted to be alone with her grief. Her mothers did not try to stop her as she slipped away back home.

Her dwelling felt like a stranger, a different place than it had this morning when Sera was still alive and the world made sense. She sat in her bedroom, as still as one of the statues in the Moon Gardens, until she heard the Cerulean returning to their dwellings, catching bits of conversation as they passed her window. Most were hopeful. Some were excited. A few were somber. Leela could feel Sera becoming less and less of a person with each passing hour. She was a martyr, an idol, a story to be told.

“She was so pious,” Leela heard one woman say.

“She was a great asset to our City,” another murmured.

“Mother Sun saw much in her.”

“She will be praised in everlasting grace once we reach a new planet.”

Leela could not stand it. She did not know this person they were speaking of. Sera had been bold and curious and silly. It had been her dream to see a new planet, one she had been teased about or hushed for expressing out loud. And she was the one missing it. It wasn’t fair.

That night was the longest of Leela’s life. When the gray light of morning crept into her room, she roused herself, sat up, and tied her hair back. She had to know if they were moving yet. She had to learn as much as she could, about space, about everything they passed on the way to the new planet, about the journey ahead. She had to know for Sera.

But when Durea, one of the beekeepers, stopped by the dwelling to deliver the day’s honey, Leela could sense instantly that something was wrong.

“We are still attached,” Durea said softly to her green mother. “The High Priestess has not been seen since last night.”

Her mothers looked worried, but not for the reason Leela did. If the City was not moving, did that mean that Sera had sacrificed herself for nothing?

She accompanied her purple mother to the Aviary to collect eggs, and Ileen, one of the midwives, stopped them on the way.

“The tether has not broken,” she said. “I heard the High Priestess has sequestered herself in the temple.”

Her purple mother glanced at Leela, then said, “I am sure all will be well. We must trust in the High Priestess and in Mother Sun.”

Leela felt an unfamiliar jerk of irritation. Once Ileen had gone, she snapped, “You do not have to say those things for my sake.”

Her tone was sharp as nettles, and her purple mother looked hurt. Leela knew she was being unfair, but she could not bring herself to apologize.

By the hour of the dove, the novices were spreading throughout the City.

“Do not fear,” they said. “The High Priestess is seeking guidance. All will be well. Stay in your homes. Do not go out. Pray. Pray for our City.”

Her orange mother gathered the family in the common room. And they prayed, until almost the hour of the serpent, when Leela felt like she would burst if she had to sit still any longer.

“Orange Mother,” she said. “I would like to pray in my room. Alone. If that is all right,” she added. She did not want to hurt another one of her mothers, no matter how raw she felt.

Her orange mother was about to protest when her green mother interjected. “Of course you may,” she said. Leela escaped gratefully, hearing a whispered, “Leave her be,” from her green mother as she did.

But her room was too small and confining. She rested her arms on her windowsill, remembering the first time Sera had coaxed her out late at night, when they were only ten. The memory was torture. Leela felt the whole City was now designed to torment her daily. Because every place reminded her of Sera. The moonflower fields where they used to play Seek Me If You Dare. The orchards where Leela would wheedle extra pieces of fruit from Freeda, because Freeda would never give Sera extra anything. Every part of the Great Estuary where they had raced or swam or bathed was its own private hurt.

Leela tried to tell herself that Sera would not want her to be sad, but how could she not be? It was as if a piece of her had been torn out and lost forever.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know for certain that the tether was still there. She needed to see it with her own eyes, even if it meant going against the directive of the novices, of the High Priestess herself.

In one swift movement, she was out the window and running. The banks along this part of the Estuary were close and heavily wooded with golden-leaved polaris trees, so she was able to slip away unseen, avoiding the bridges that led to the island where the temple stood and running to cross at the Western Bridge, by the seresheep meadows. She reached the Day Gardens and found them just the same as they had been only days ago, a riot of blooming color as if nothing were wrong, as if the world hadn’t been turned upside down and Sera was still here to listen to the ethereal songs of the minstrel flowers.