The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(66)

“And she will live forever inside you,” her green mother continued. “Your memories and your love will keep her flame burning bright as a candle on the Night of Song.”

But Leela did not want to keep Sera alive in her memory. She wanted her here, now, and the anger that seemed to have become her constant companion over the last two days reared up again. But she did not wish to lash out at another one of her mothers, so she nodded, tight-lipped, and stood, gripping the pail harder than she needed to as she made her way through the grazing seresheep. She felt in a fog, as if her green mother’s words had pulled all her memories of Sera out like dresses from a closet and laid them before her.

“Oh!” She had not been looking where she was going, and some milk slopped over her pail as she bumped into another Cerulean. “I am so—”

But her apology died on her lips. Sera’s purple mother was standing before her with a basket full of feed for the seresheep. Except she was not feeding them. She was staring vacantly at a spot just above Leela’s head. She was the youngest of Sera’s mothers, but she looked older now. Her hair was lank and unkempt, and her silvery skin had a sallow tinge to it.

“Good afternoon, Purple Mother,” Leela said, addressing her formally as all Cerulean children addressed mothers.

“Estelle?” she said, her eyes unfocused.

“No, it’s—I’m Leela.”

Sera’s mother started and seemed to come back to herself.

“Oh,” she said. “Good afternoon, Leela.”

“Are you unwell?” she asked.

Sera’s purple mother looked at the basket in her hands like she had forgotten she was holding it. “I . . .” She seemed at a loss for how to answer.

“May I escort you home?” Leela wondered if she should fetch her green mother to help, but Sera’s purple mother was shaking her head, her face twisting in pain.

“No,” she said. “I cannot go home. She is . . . she is . . . everywhere.”

And without a word of goodbye, she wandered off through the meadows like a woman in a trance. The seresheep parted for her as if they knew this was not a person to nudge with a nose in search of treats. And Leela knew that whatever grief she felt was but a faint echo of the agony burning inside Sera’s mother. She did not know who Estelle was, however—Sera had never mentioned anyone by that name.

Koreen, Daina, and Treena were leaving the creamery as Leela arrived.

“. . . and then there will be a birthing season!” Koreen was saying. “Imagine all those darling little babies.”

“I’ve always longed to see a baby,” Treena said wistfully. “Attending to pregnant seresheep is all well and good, but imagine helping to foster in a new Cerulean generation! Ileen said I could begin to help prepare the birthing houses as soon as tomorrow.”

“And I shall be in the orchards,” Daina said. “And Koreen in the cloudspinners’ grove. How exciting it is to grow up.”

“Indeed!” Koreen exclaimed. “I shall be leaving my mothers’ dwelling soon enough.”

“So shall I,” Treena said.

“Me too,” said Daina. “We should all find a dwelling together!”

“Until we find our own triads,” Koreen qualified. Then she sighed. “What a time to be alive.”

The words left a trail of sharp stings over Leela’s skin. She did not feel as if she understood anything anymore—the High Priestess was a liar, Sera’s joyful purple mother had become a broken shadow of her former self, and her friends had moved on from death faster than you could say will-o-wisp.

“If only the ceremony had worked properly,” Treena said. “We would have a wedding season and be on our way to a new home by now.”

That did it.

“If Sera had died properly, you mean?” Leela said. The girls started. Daina, at least, had the decency to look ashamed.

“Good afternoon, Leela,” Treena stammered. “I did not see you.”

The anger was a comfort to her now, a friend that sharpened her vision and sparked her courage.

“She is dead, and you are speaking as though she did something wrong.”

“We did not mean to be rude,” Daina said.

“But Sera did not break the tether,” Koreen said. “So something did go wrong, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but that does not mean it was Sera’s fault!” Leela was breathing fast. The three girls backed away from her like she was something dangerous. She did feel quite dangerous at the moment. The loneliness, the unfairness of losing her friend, of knowing something she shouldn’t, something she didn’t understand but felt was more important than anything she’d ever known in her life, it was all building up inside her and she wanted to scream.

“We know you were her best friend,” Koreen said. “But that does not change what happened. She was not worthy. You must accept it, Leela. The High Priestess said so herself.”

“She was a better Cerulean than most in this City,” Leela shot back. “Far better than you will ever be, Koreen!”

Then she stormed past them and into the creamery before she could say anything else that might get her in trouble. She slammed her pail down on the table, where the cheesemongers could collect it, and found herself face-to-face with Elorin. She was carrying several cloth-covered wheels of cheese in a basket, and her expression left Leela with no doubt that she had overheard the heated conversation.