The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(68)

Inspiration struck in a flash, a meteorite lighting up the dark recesses of her mind. She was shocked she had not thought of it before.

The only person who might believe her was the only person who missed Sera as desperately as Leela did.

Sera’s purple mother.





25

THE FIRST WEDDING TOOK PLACE THE NEXT DAY AT THE hour of the lamb.

Fireflies lit the canopy of trees above as the Cerulean watched Plenna, Heena, and Jaycin circle each other over and over, repeating oaths of fealty. The girls wore wreaths of white roses in their hair, and delicate garlands of baby moonflowers around their necks. Their waists were belted with fire lilies glowing red-gold like the sun. The High Priestess held the three ribbons—orange, purple, and green—on a small white pillow. When the girls stopped circling, she lifted the pillow above her head.

“Mother Sun, bless this union now and forever, so that this triad may live together in harmony until the day they return to your everlasting light. May they find peace in times of discord, comfort in times of sadness, and constancy in the face of chaos; for the union of three souls is sacred and not to be undertaken lightly. This we pray.”

“This we pray,” the Cerulean echoed. Leela only mouthed the words. She kept her eyes fixed on the High Priestess, searching for a suspicious look or gesture, but she was as serene and elegant as ever. If Leela could detect any change at all it was that she seemed a bit tired—there were thin lines around her eyes and mouth.

Plenna tied an orange ribbon around Heena’s neck, then Heena tied a green ribbon around Jaycin’s neck, and finally, Jaycin tied a purple ribbon around Plenna’s neck. Sera had been certain Plenna would be a purple mother, Leela thought sadly. She could almost hear her whispering, Told you so, in her ear.

When the last ribbon was secured, the High Priestess proclaimed, “A new triad is formed! All praise them! Praise Mother Sun!”

“Praise her!” the Cerulean called back. Plenna began to cry, and Jaycin took her in her arms and kissed her while Heena stroked her hair. And then all the Cerulean were laughing and clapping because young love shone brighter than the brightest star—that was what Leela’s green mother always said.

The ceremony was repeated as another triad was wed, then another. Four weddings that lasted until the hour of the owl, when finally it was time for the celebratory feast.

Minstrel flowers sang as tables were brought out and laden with food and drink. Pitchers of crystal-clear water and decanters of sweetnectar were placed among platters of crisp fried eggplant, freshly sliced tomatoes with basil and seresheep cheese, stuffed squash blossoms, salads of apples, plums, and nasturtiums, and of course, a traditional Cerulean wedding cake in the shape of a dome, light and spongy and frosted with silver icing, dotted with blue roses.

“Go run and help Freeda with the water,” her purple mother said, and Leela hurried to carry one of the large earthen pitchers to a table that was wanting.

“Thank you,” Freeda said. She towered over Leela, clutching the remaining pitcher against her large chest. “Be a dear and bring those forks along as well, will you?”

Leela grabbed the forks and put them beside the pitcher, but she did not go directly back to her mothers. She wandered through the crowds, searching . . . until at last she found Sera’s purple mother. She was sitting at a table alone, twisting a napkin in her hands and staring at a platter of glazed carrots with unseeing eyes. She looked worse than before—thinner, fragile, her bones straining prominently underneath her skin.

Leela was not quite sure what to do. She took a hesitant step forward. Sera’s purple mother looked up from the carrots, and when their eyes met, Leela stopped in her tracks.

It was as if a light had been turned off inside her. Cerulean eyes were bright with the magic of their blood—it was the place where their magic shone through most clearly. But the eyes Leela stared into were dark and flat. They frightened her. Sera’s purple mother had always been full of joy and laughter. Leela did not know the woman sitting before her, and her heart sank.

She could not help Leela any more than Leela could help herself. She should not have thought to burden Sera’s poor mother with more heartache when she was clearly too distraught with grief. The bench opposite was empty, and she sat across from Sera’s mother, no longer thinking of her own plans, wishing only to comfort.

“I miss her, too,” Leela said, not sure if Sera’s mother was listening or if Leela herself just needed to talk to someone who understood. “I miss her more than anything. It’s an ache in my chest that won’t go away, a pain in my heart that throbs worse with every beat. I am angry all the time. I am angry at my mothers, at my friends. I do not even know who I am anymore. And I wished to . . . to speak with you about something, but now I think I would only make things worse.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “Perhaps I need to learn to deal with things on my own,” she murmured.

“The Night Gardens,” Sera’s purple mother said. Her voice was faint and hollow, like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

“Yes,” Leela said. “The Night Gardens. That’s where she . . . where she was lost to us.”

Sera’s mother lurched forward, holding her head in her hands. “Leela . . .”

“I am here.” Leela reached out and put a hand on her elbow. Sera’s mother peered at her from between her fingers.