The Cerulean Read online

  “Good evening!” he said to the room at large. “What a delightful house!”

  Everything he said seemed to end in an exclamation point, and Leo couldn’t tell whether the man was being sincere.

  “I am Ezra Kiernan,” he said with a flourishing bow that had Marianne and Elizabeth giggling behind their hands. “And where might I find Mr. Xavier McLellan?”

  “You may find him here.” The voice that spoke was deep and grave, imbued with unmistakable power.

  And with that, Xavier McLellan stepped into the room.

  8

  Agnes

  AGNES HATED FORMAL DINNERS.

  She hated social events of any sort, especially when her father and brother were involved. If she could have her dinner sent up to her lab and eat among the frogs and rabbits and rats, she’d do it gladly. They were better company than most of the men in Old Port City, and smarter too.

  She would have given anything to have been born in Pelago. She hated Old Port, with its stuffy ways and rules. She hated the starched dresses and tight corsets, the way she was expected to be silent and pretty when she wasn’t good at being either, the fact that every second brought her closer to the one thing she hated most about being a woman in Kaolin: soon she would have to marry.

  As if in response to that thought, her eyes flicked to Marianne’s cleavage. Agnes had tried not to stare when the girl had been introduced, but she couldn’t stop herself from imagining tracing a finger over the lush curve of skin, how warm and soft it would feel. . . .

  But her father was in the room now, and she pushed the image away quickly. Those thoughts were dangerous. Lethal. Not even Xavier’s money or fame or reputation would be able to save her if it came out that she was that sort of girl. Knowing her father, he would probably be the one leading the charge against her.

  “Ah, my dear Xavier, we meet at last,” Mr. Kiernan said exuberantly, making another big bow. “After so many months of correspondence, it is a pleasure to be face-to-face.”

  It was hard to tell what Xavier thought of this flamboyant Pelagan man—though Agnes had some guesses—because her father was an expert at hiding his emotions. She had learned to read him a bit after eighteen years of study, but not enough to say that she understood him. Their main commonality seemed to be looks. Sometimes she studied her hair before bed, searching for any hint of her mother’s red in it. She’d even put a few strands under her microscope once, but no, it was brown brown brown.

  Her father smiled and held out his hand. “I do hope your trip wasn’t too taxing.”

  “Not at all,” Mr. Kiernan said, grasping Xavier’s hand in both of his. “But it is a relief to have such a long journey at last be at an end.”

  “I’m certain it is.” There was a surety in her father’s tone that made Agnes feel like she was missing something. “May I offer you a refreshment?”

  As if summoned by magic, Swansea appeared with a tray of champagne for the men, as the women had already been served. Agnes gripped her flute, thinking it might be the only thing to help her through this night. Then she could go back to her lab and be herself, and wait, without much hope, for a letter that could change her life.

  Agnes had a secret: she had applied to the University of Ithilia’s Academy of Sciences, Pelago’s most prestigious school. With Eneas’s help, she had procured an application, filled it out meticulously, and sent it off to be considered. It was the bravest thing she’d ever done, but she had mailed it two months ago and received no word yet. Eneas had set up a box at the post office in Olive Town, the Pelagan district of Old Port, so no letter would arrive at the house—Agnes would be in more trouble than she cared to consider if her father found out. But the truth was, she probably hadn’t been accepted. And even if she was, how was she supposed to get there, or find the money to pay for tuition? It was nearly impossible for a woman to do anything without a man’s consent in Kaolin. She would need her father’s permission to take out money from the bank, or book a ticket on a ship.

  But she couldn’t relinquish her dreams, not yet, not when she had at least a modicum of freedom left to her. Once she was married, even that small flame of hope would be extinguished.

  “Now let me present to you my son, Leo,” Xavier said. Leo’s smile was so ingratiating, Agnes thought she might vomit.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said.

  “Oh my,” Mr. Kiernan gasped. “You look exactly like her.”

  This observation never ceased to rankle Agnes or Leo, though for different reasons, but tonight he smiled and said, “Yes, sir, so I’ve been told.”

  He must be up to something, to take the comment so easily—and he was wearing a tie that matched his eyes, a feature he never played up. But Agnes had no interest in her brother’s schemes at the moment.

  “You knew my mother?” she asked Kiernan.

  He cleared his throat. “Not personally, no.”

  “But you know what she looked like?”

  Kiernan seemed to regret the path this conversation was going down, and Agnes knew she was walking a fine line, but she could not stop herself.

  “Everyone in Pelago knows the Byrne family. Their features are striking,” he said, gesturing to Leo as if to prove his point.

  “Do you know my grandmother?” As soon as the words were out, Agnes knew she had gone too far.

  The look Xavier gave her would have withered even the strongest of trees. Agnes felt herself shrink, and her face grew hot. Their mother’s family, the Byrne family, was off-limits. No one was allowed to bring them up. Not even Eneas would talk about them, and he had worked for them his whole life before moving here from Pelago with her mother. Agnes had sent letters to her grandmother, Ambrosine Byrne, every year, hoping for a response and never receiving one. To be honest, Agnes was not convinced the letters had actually been mailed at all. She had trusted Swansea to post them when she was younger, which had been foolish, and then, when she got older, went directly to the post office herself. But she suspected her father had a man in his pocket there. Eneas had flat-out refused when she’d asked him for help. She got the sense he was frightened of her grandmother, though he never said anything about her except that she was a “formidable and impressive woman.”

  “We do not discuss the Byrne family in this house,” Xavier said, and Mr. Kiernan seemed all too eager to change the subject.

  “You must be the daughter? Agnes, is that correct?”

  “She is,” Xavier said.

  Agnes made an awkward curtsy—she had never learned to do it right—and cursed herself internally. She should have asked Mr. Kiernan in private, where he might have been more forthcoming.

  “And may I present Miss Elizabeth Conway of Old Port and her companion Miss Marianne Ellis, from Lady’s Point,” Xavier said. “Miss Ellis is visiting for the month.”

  Marianne was eyeing Mr. Kiernan with great interest. Agnes didn’t see anything particularly attractive about the man, though she wasn’t the best judge. She liked the kohl around his eyes, though. And the seashell in his hair.

  Brief pleasantries were exchanged, champagne was toasted, and then Swansea announced that dinner was served.

  “Nice tie,” Agnes muttered to her brother as she took her seat beside him. “Are you trying to be Pelagan now?”

  Xavier and Mr. Kiernan sat at the ends of the large mahogany table. Elizabeth and Marianne were across from the twins.

  “Nice dress,” Leo shot back under his breath. “Are you trying to be an eighty-year-old widow?”

  A cold vegetable soup was served first, and Mr. Kiernan happily commented on just about everything in the room.

  “Delicious! I adore zucchini.”

  “What magnificent candlesticks!”

  “My dear Xavier, this is an absolutely beautiful spoon.”

  “Aren’t these napkins a delight!”

  Agnes wondered how he didn’t pass out at the table from expending so much positive energy.

  “How do you fi
nd Old Port City, Mr. Kiernan?” Elizabeth asked, taking a dainty spoonful of soup. Elizabeth Conway was one of those girls Agnes wanted to hate but could never quite bring herself to. She was wealthy and beautiful and popular, but she had always been kind to Agnes. Most of the daughters of Old Port society found Agnes strange and unpleasant, something she often encouraged, since she didn’t particularly enjoy their company. But still, it was nice not to be treated like an absolute freak all the time.

  She wondered for a brief moment if her father knew Elizabeth was kind to Agnes, if that was why he’d invited her in the first place.

  “It is a joy to see,” Kiernan replied. “The cars! The buildings! So much industry. And of course, the theater scene is unparalleled.” He winked at Xavier.

  “Do tell us about this secret project, won’t you, Mr. McLellan?” Elizabeth pleaded.

  “Yes, do!” Marianne chimed in.

  “Why, whatever are you girls talking about?” Xavier said with feigned surprise.

  “I have it on good authority that you have been up to something this whole summer since Picando closed,” Elizabeth said.

  “James Roth has been running his mouth to impress the ladies again, it would seem.”

  Elizabeth gave a sly grin. “Why, Mr. McLellan, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

  Her father chuckled as Swansea and two footmen came in to clear their bowls and bring in the next dish. He dabbed at his mouth to ensure there was no trace of soup in his beard.

  Xavier had a fantastic beard. Many Kaolin men wore theirs long and artfully braided or bushy and pruned into various shapes, but not Xavier. His was sleek and close-cropped but with the most magnificent patterns carved along his cheekbones and under his jawline, swirls and points crafted with the utmost precision. There were two large dips that rose to a point at the center of his lower lip, and he stroked that spot often, usually when buying time to come up with a response or when savoring a particular moment before speaking. This was certainly the latter instance.

  “Swansea.” Xavier spoke no louder than his usual tone, but there was a clear undercurrent of command.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Bring the portfolio in from my study.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  Once he was gone, Xavier leaned forward, pressing his hands together so that his fingertips formed a steeple. “Allow me to ask you ladies a question,” he said with a mischievous smile. It was unnerving how charming he could be when he wished. “Have you enjoyed the McLellan productions you’ve seen?”

  “Oh yes,” Marianne gushed. “I saw The Wayward Woman of Weltshire Street last month, and it was to die for. And The Lizard and the Frog has been running in Lady’s Point for quite some time now. That man with the flippers who plays the frog is just marvelous!”

  Agnes clenched her jaw. That man was named Jeremy. He’d worked in one of Xavier’s freak shows in Old Port until the audiences had gotten bored and Xavier moved the production to the west coast. He was shy, and kind, and he used to tell Agnes the funniest jokes when she was younger, before she understood that her father didn’t want her talking to “the grotesques,” as some of the staff had called them.

  “So it would disappoint you to hear that I am currently working on my final show before leaving the theater scene for good?”

  Elizabeth gasped, and Marianne cried, “No!” but Xavier’s children simply stared at him, dumbfounded. His final show? Agnes took some comfort in the fact that this appeared to be news to Leo, too.

  “But . . . The Great Picando made over fifty thousand krogers in its first week,” Leo said, as if he’d just memorized the list of facts and figures.

  “Fifty thousand is nothing to boast about, Leo,” Xavier said, the hint of a chill in his voice. “Picando did not have the run I expected it to. There are far too many anti-Talman plays glutting the theaters of Old Port. No, it is time for a change in direction.”

  Swansea glided in at that moment and handed Xavier a leather portfolio.

  “I saw the old advertisements for this Picando at the Seaport when I arrived,” Kiernan said. “I am sorry to have missed it.”

  Agnes wondered how a Pelagan would feel about a play that essentially called his entire religion heretical and amoral. And she was further confused when the main course was served, a classic Pelagan dish from the main island of Cairan—grilled tuna over a bed of sharp greens, drizzled with garlic and olive oil. Agnes couldn’t remember the last time they’d eaten fish in this house—her father preferred red meat.

  Kiernan looked delighted by the food and picked up his fork before adding, “Though perhaps I should finish my conversion to Solitism first.”

  “You’re converting?” Agnes asked, surprised. Not that there weren’t Pelagan converts in Kaolin, but they were rare.

  “Indeed I am,” Kiernan said. “It seemed only fitting to adopt the religion of my new home.”

  “Well done to you, sir,” Leo said, raising his glass of champagne and taking a long drink.

  “How wonderful,” Elizabeth added.

  “Do you plan to live here long?” Agnes asked.

  “For the rest of my life, as long as that may be.”

  “So you’ll never return to Pelago?”

  “No,” he said to her firmly. “I will not.”

  “And in the meantime, we will be making great strides together,” Xavier interrupted. Kiernan cast him a nervous glance. “Do not fear, Ezra, I will not reveal all our secrets tonight.” He ran his fingers down the length of the portfolio and studied the two girls sitting opposite Agnes. “Now, if I share this with you, will you ladies promise to keep it a secret?”

  Marianne and Elizabeth nodded so eagerly, Agnes knew they would be bursting at the seams to tell anyone and everyone they could as soon as they left the brownstone.

  And suddenly she realized why her father had invited these two girls, girls who were high-society gossips and moved in all the right circles.

  He wanted them to blab. It was genius, really—free advertising from the perfect sources. Kaolin might be a more conservative country than Pelago, but it didn’t matter where you lived: beautiful women sold tickets. Add into the mix that this would be the final McLellan production . . . well, Old Port would go nuts over that news alone. And it would probably spike ticket sales for Xavier’s other shows in cities across Kaolin.

  Agnes felt the heat of embarrassment on the back of her neck. Of course her father hadn’t wanted Elizabeth here because she was kind to Agnes. What a stupid thing to think. The only nice thing her father had ever done for his daughter was build her the lab in her walk-in closet. That should be enough.

  Somehow it wasn’t, though.

  Then Xavier opened the portfolio and held up a photograph, and Agnes forgot about gossiping rich girls, forgot about the fact that her father always, always let her down, because she was staring at something that couldn’t be real.

  “It’s . . .” Elizabeth was frowning.

  “A tree,” Leo finished, looking just as confused.

  Kiernan grew serious for the first time since dinner had started. “It is not just any tree, my young friends. It—”

  “It has a face,” Agnes said. How could they not see it? The photo was in black and white, the tree small and willowy with pale bark and dark leaves. And about halfway down the trunk were three eyes that formed a triangle and a slash of a mouth underneath.

  “Well spotted, Miss McLellan! What sharp powers of observation you have,” Kiernan said, impressed. Xavier’s face was unreadable; Leo took another drink, looking disgruntled.

  “Why, what is it?” Elizabeth asked.

  “It is called an Arboreal,” Xavier explained.

  “They are an old myth in my country,” Kiernan said. “Though clearly a myth no longer. Your father and I worked diligently to discover this fellow’s location, and my associates brought him over from Pelago two months ago.”

  “What does it do?” Marianne asked.

  Xavie
r smiled and shook his head. “Now that I will not reveal. Not yet.” He put down the photo of the Arboreal and picked up another. This photograph was dark and murky—Agnes could only make out two bulging orbs that looked like . . .

  “Eyes!” Marianne shrieked. “Those are eyes, aren’t they?”

  “They are indeed,” said Kiernan. Leo was looking more and more unhappy, and he drained the last of his champagne. Agnes assumed he was disappointed the conversation was not revolving around him. “This is a mertag, a sea creature that travels the currents around the Pelagan islands. We caught this one just off the coast of—”

  “He was a slippery little bugger,” Xavier said, interrupting. “Very hard to catch.”

  “And I assume you won’t tell us what he does either?” Elizabeth asked.

  Xavier winked. “Smart girl.”

  Leo shifted in his seat as a footman came over to refill his glass, and Agnes wondered if he was thinking what she was—these photographs should have been shown at a private family dinner. It felt as if Marianne and Elizabeth were stealing her and Leo’s lines.

  “And these creatures will feature in the new show?”

  “They will,” Xavier confirmed. “They will do that and more.” He gave Kiernan a significant look. “But we are still searching. We have heard of sprites that live in the grasses of the Knottle Plains. There will be an expedition shortly to see if they can be found.”

  Agnes was surprised to see the color drain from Kiernan’s face, and his hand curled tightly around his glass.

  “What do they look like?” Marianne asked.

  “Now, now,” Kiernan said before Xavier could respond. “We don’t want to reveal too much.”

  A look passed between them that Agnes did not understand. But then her father’s face relaxed.

  “Too true, my friend, too true. Ladies, suffice it to say that this show will be unlike anything seen in Kaolin or Pelago before. And it will be for one night only—one night of magic and mystery that I promise you will not want to miss.”