The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(89)

He looked up into a pair of startling blue eyes, not fire any longer but calm and deep as the Adronic Ocean.

“You are alive,” Sera said. “You are here. You have free will. There is nothing that is keeping you from choosing to be the right kind of person.”

Leo swallowed and the lump in his throat dissolved. “You’re right,” he said.

She leaned back against the crate and they sat together in silence. Her face was in shadow, but he could see the length of her collarbone curving delicately out from beneath the lace dress. A thick blue curl rested on her shoulder. He thought back to what James had said, that she was beautiful in a unique way. Looking at her now, Leo thought she was so much more than beautiful. She was more than any girl he had ever known. There was more heart and courage inside her than could possibly be contained in so slight a frame.

“You fell,” he said. “In space.”

His stomach swooped, remembering the feel of his feet leaving the dais, of emptiness rushing up to meet him.

She nodded.

“You fell without being pushed or forced, like . . . like you chose it. Why?” Leo could not imagine what would inspire such bravery or foolishness, depending.

Sera stared at him for so long, he felt ashamed for asking.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t really deserve to know anyway.”

“Mother Sun chose me to break the tether,” she said softly, her face still hidden in shadow. “But I failed.”

Leo let that sink in. He did not understand it, not at all, but he was certain that the tether was the same one she claimed to have seen in the photograph of the ruins.

“So you need to get back to this tether so you can break it?”

“I need to get back to the tether so I can go home,” she said, and the image of those incredible gardens swelled up behind his eyes. From the little he’d seen, Sera’s home was beautiful and peaceful and full of love. And now she was locked in a wooden crate. All because of him.

There is nothing that is keeping you from choosing to be the right kind of person.

There wasn’t, if he was brave enough to do something about it. And if this girl was brave enough to jump off a balcony into space, he should be brave enough to do the right thing, even if it meant going against his father. Especially then.

Leo stood. “I’ve been here too long,” he said, suddenly worried one of the Pembertons would come in to check on him. “I’ve got to go. But I’m going to help you, Sera. I promise. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to believe me. But I’m going to make this right.” He hurried down the steps, pausing halfway and turning back to her. “And next time I come, I’ll bring the necklace.”

As he left the theater, he felt like a different person from the one who had entered it. A change was beginning, but what sort of change he couldn’t say. All he knew was that the life he had imagined for himself was slowly disintegrating, and he found he wasn’t missing it one bit.





32

Agnes

AGNES COULD NOT STOP CHECKING HER PURSE EVERY FEW minutes as she and Ebenezer made their way to the Seaport.

The Granges didn’t have a chauffeur, so he drove them himself, taking a route through Ellsbury Park to avoid the traffic in Central Square and then cutting across the garment district, affectionately nicknamed Vestville.

“It’s not going to run away, you know,” Ebenezer said after the fifth time she opened her purse. “Krogers don’t have legs.”

Agnes gave him a halfhearted smile. “No, I know, I just . . . well, I’ve never carried this much money before.”

“Me neither. Not that I’m carrying it, I mean—I’ve never helped anyone take out that much money before.”

“No? You don’t go from bank to bank helping devious young ladies try to withdraw money from their own accounts regularly? You should, you’re very good at it.”

Ebenezer laughed. “Well, like I said, it’s your money. It’s not as if we stole it.”

“No,” she said, fingering the golden bills. “It’s my mother’s money, technically, since all his money stems from hers. Which makes it even more irritating that I need my father’s permission to take it out.”

“She was, um, Pelagan, wasn’t she?”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “Ebenezer, everyone in Old Port knows my mother was Pelagan. It’s not exactly a secret, though Leo and my father both wish it could be. They sweep her under the rug like she’s an embarrassment.”

“Is that why your father is so obsessed with Pelago?”

“What do you mean, obsessed?”

He glanced at her sideways. “Well, the anti-Talman plays and now that Pelagan tree and fish that he was showing off last night. It’s like he wants to take revenge on Pelago or something.”

“He’s a spiteful man who was forced to let a woman save him from bankruptcy,” Agnes said. “You can bet he wants revenge for that. And she’s dead, so he can’t take it out on her.”

“You don’t think he cared about her?” Ebenezer asked. “Not even a little?”

She gave him a pitying look. “No,” she said. “Not even a little.” She stared out the window at the textile factories flashing past. “And he won’t let us love her either. Well, Leo doesn’t care, like I said, but . . . I wish I could know who she was, what she was like. If there’s anything of her in me.” Her neck went hot and her eyes felt wet. “Sorry,” she said, snapping her purse shut. “This isn’t something I usually talk about.”