The Cerulean (Untitled Duology, #1)(92)

“This is true,” Vada agreed.

“Pelagan ships aren’t taking on Kaolin passengers. And I can’t get passage on a Kaolin ship without my father’s permission, as you so aptly pointed out last time we spoke.”

“Still,” Vada said. “I cannot believe Ambrosine Byrne would not send word to some ship or other that her granddaughter needed passage to Pelago.”

Agnes shrugged and hid her face in her beer until she finished it. But when she put her glass down, Vada was watching her with narrowed eyes.

“She does not know you are coming to Pelago,” she said flatly.

Agnes swallowed. “She does not.”

“You lied to me.”

“I did.”

“I do not appreciate liars, especially not Kaolin ones.” Vada sat back and folded her arms across her chest.

“I wasn’t lying about being a Byrne,” Agnes insisted. She almost wished she had the photograph of her mother with her to prove it. “My father has never let me write to, much less meet, my mother’s family. He acts like she never existed—we aren’t allowed to talk about her at all. I’ve spent eighteen years wondering what she was like, what sort of woman she was. Eighteen years grieving over a stranger. Or maybe not grieving, but . . . missing? Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?” Her head felt light, and her mouth seemed to be moving of its own accord, her brain having a hard time keeping up. She stared into the depths of her empty glass as she spoke. “Leo looks just like her, Eneas always says, but not me. I don’t know if there’s anything of her in me. I don’t know anything of Pelago except what I’ve read here and there, and of course it’s all covered up in Kaolin propaganda. There’s a whole part of me that’s a mystery, an entire side of my family I’ve never known. And if I stay here, I’ll be strangled by rules and etiquette. I’ll drown in expectation.”

Vada was looking at her with some mixture of intrigue and sympathy. “I never knew my father,” she said. “My mother has been with many men. Many women, too. Myself, I prefer women. Men are such big babies, needing this, demanding that.” Agnes felt a jolt run up her spine, and a high-pitched laugh escaped her lips. Vada grinned and continued. “But if I wished to know him, she would tell me. We have no secrets. I am sorry you do not know anything about Alethea Byrne. For myself, I have heard that she was very beautiful and very headstrong. It is well known in Ithilia that your grandmother did not approve of the marriage. Alethea broke with Pelagan traditions when she married your father—she did not have permission from the family matriarch.”

“Really?” Agnes leaned forward, greedy for more information.

“Really. And now her daughter sits before me, breaking the traditions of her own country. So there is something of her inside you. You are both headstrong.” The storm in Vada’s eyes roiled. “And you are both beautiful.”

Agnes’s throat swelled up. She picked up her second ale and took a sip. “You’re just being nice,” she said. “You haven’t seen my mother. She was stunning.”

“I have seen you,” Vada said with a shrug, as if that settled it. She drank her beer and looked around the bar, and Agnes tried to collect herself.

“Ambrosine Byrne has a reputation,” Vada said. “You should be aware of that. She has much power in Pelago—some even call her the fourth pillar of the Triumvirate, though never to her face. She is deeply influential and not one to be crossed. I do not recommend showing up at her door unannounced.”

“She’s not the only reason I’m going to Pelago,” Agnes said.

“Oh?” Vada tapped the corner of her mouth with one finger, like she was trying not to smile. “Aren’t you just full of surprises. And what other purpose would a Kaolin lady have in my country?”

“I’ve passed the first round of admissions to the University of Ithilia’s Academy of Sciences,” she said in a rush, her fingers clenching around her glass. “I want to be a scientist. I want the chance to be more than what I could ever be here. That was why I wanted to leave initially, when I first approached you. But it’s gotten more dire, more important than just my own life. I have to help a friend, someone in desperate need, and I . . . I’ve never had a friend before and she’s trapped just like me, only worse, much worse. She’s got to get to Braxos and I have to help her get there. As impossible as that sounds, I have to try at least. She’s got no one else on this entire planet to help her but me.”

Vada took a long drink, considering Agnes’s words. Agnes could hear her heart pounding in her ears, a muffled thump thump thump that made her feel frightened and alive at the same time. Vada leaned forward, her hand reaching out to cross the space between them, casually confident like all her movements were. Agnes ached to be so sure of herself—she kept her hands tight around her glass as Vada’s fingers brushed softly over her knuckles. Her touch sent electric sparks up the bones in Agnes’s hand, a heat like Sera’s magic filling her up.

“I was wrong,” Vada said with a tender smile that stole Agnes’s breath from her lungs. “You are no mouse. You are a lion.”

Agnes let out a hysterical giggle and Vada’s smile turned playful. She sat back and Agnes almost reached out to keep her close, but stopped herself.