The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(67)

“Good afternoon,” she said.

“Good afternoon,” Leela replied tersely.

There was an awkward silence. Leela had never been particularly close with Elorin and was not sure what to say. She just wished to be alone.

“I am a novice now,” Elorin said. “I will be settling into the dormitory tonight.”

Leela did not want to think about all her friends moving on, finding their purposes in the City, leaving their mothers’ dwellings. She wanted everything to go back to how it was.

“That is wonderful news,” she forced herself to say. “You must be very happy.”

Elorin nodded, then bit her lip. “I thought she was very brave,” she said, leaning close so that only Leela could hear her. “Sera, I mean. I do not know if I would have had the grace and courage she did.”

Tears once again sprang to Leela’s eyes—she felt as if her body had become an unending reservoir that would never run dry.

“Thank you for saying that,” she whispered.

Elorin touched her shoulder. “Come to the temple if you need solace,” she said.

Leela’s smile was a frail, feeble thing. She did not want solace from the temple. She wanted her friend back and she wanted the world to make sense again. Elorin left her with a halfhearted wave, and Leela took her leave of the creamery with its clattering of pails and sharp, tangy scent of cheese.

What would Sera do now were she in my place? she thought. Had she heard what I heard, what course of action would she have taken? She probably would have walked right up to the temple and asked to speak to the High Priestess.

Was Leela brave enough to do the same? It was not just a matter of being brave, either. A tendril of hope was creeping into her mind, more tentative than the sunburst but with just as much power. What if she was wrong? What if she had simply misunderstood? It made far more sense if she thought about it—that Leela’s young and untrained mind had misinterpreted what she heard was much more likely than that the High Priestess was somehow responsible for Sera’s death. Perhaps Leela could ask about the choosing ceremony and how it had come about. That seemed a reasonable enough query. Maybe she could put her own mind at ease. Maybe then she would stop snapping at everyone and the storm growing inside her might be soothed.

She set off for the temple, making her way through the meadows and passing the orchards, until she was crossing Aila’s Bridge and facing the gleaming copper doors. The temple seemed larger than it ever had before, its tip pointing to the sky like an admonishing finger. Leela’s legs trembled and her chest seized up—she could not do this; she was not the Cerulean Sera had been. She did not know how long she stood there, her courage faltering, her heart torn. She wished she felt more grown-up, more sure of herself.

She wished she were not so alone.

“Leela?”

Acolyte Klymthe was walking down the steps of the temple, a watering can in one hand.

“Good afternoon, Acolyte,” Leela said. The time was now. She must be brave, like Sera. “I was hoping perhaps I might speak to the High Priestess.”

Acolyte Klymthe’s eyebrows rose high above her close-set eyes. “Why, what on earth for, my child?”

Leela felt she should have better prepared herself for this situation now that she was in it. “I thought I might . . . ask her about . . . the choosing ceremony.”

Acolyte Klymthe’s expression softened. “She is sequestered for a time. Her energies are very low, I’m afraid.”

Leela saw an opportunity to play on the acolyte’s sympathies. “As are mine,” she said. “With Sera gone, the City feels like a stranger to me.”

“I am sure it must. But remember that time heals all. There will come a day when the hurt will not be so grave.”

“I cannot seem to understand,” Leela said. “Why was Sera chosen at all?”

Acolyte Klymthe sighed, and it sounded sincere, but Leela could not be certain. She was not used to detecting falsehoods. Cerulean rarely lied.

“Grief breaks us in different ways,” she said. “For some, the need to seek answers can be powerful. But there are no answers to give here. Only the pain of loss and the solace of prayer. But do not fear. Even those Mother Sun deems unworthy of sacrifice are still held in her everlasting embrace. Sera may not have been the right choice, but she will not be forgotten by our Mother.”

Leela’s anger rekindled at the word unworthy, a spark that gave her the nerve she needed. She looked right into Acolyte Klymthe’s eyes and said, “But I thought Mother Sun did not make mistakes.”

A flicker of shock passed across the acolyte’s face, and in that brief moment Leela knew she had not misheard or misunderstood. Whatever secret Leela had stumbled upon, Acolyte Klymthe knew and was part of it.

“She does not,” Acolyte Klymthe said firmly. “But sometimes we cannot see the true shape of her plan at first. All will be revealed in time. Meanwhile, I must tend to the roses in the Moon Gardens. I will tell the High Priestess you called.”

Leela was left with her head spinning and her heart in her throat. There was too much mystery, and she did not know where to begin. She needed help. But she could not share this with Koreen or Daina or even Elorin, kind as she had been earlier. She needed someone older, wiser, someone she was certain she could trust, someone who would believe her.