Sera was too overcome to speak.
“I have a gift for you too,” Leela said. “But I . . . I would like to give it to you privately.”
“Of course,” her purple mother said. “We will wait for you girls in the sitting room.”
Once they were alone, Leela dropped a fine gold chain into Sera’s palm, and Sera understood why Leela had not let her into her room earlier, and why she had asked Sera’s mothers to leave.
“Leela, no!” she cried. The moonstone pendant glowed in her hand—Leela had found the stone nearly a year ago when she and Sera had been digging in the banks of the Great Estuary for skipping stones. They’d kept it a secret, hoping it would reveal some of its magic to them, which it never had, much to their disappointment. And then Leela had set it in a classic Cerulean design, the many-pointed star, when she was practicing her hand at jewelry making. She had never worn it, though, as far as Sera knew, and the girls had an unspoken rule that they would not tell anyone of the moonstone’s existence.
“I could not possibly accept this,” Sera said.
“You must. For me.”
“But moonstone is so rare. It should stay in the City, shouldn’t it?”
“No one knew we had it anyway, so it will not be missed. It’s yours now,” Leela said, taking the chain and fastening it around Sera’s neck. “There is nothing more precious to me than your friendship. I would not have you leave without taking a token of me with you.”
Her voice cracked on the word leave. The chain was quite long, and Sera tucked the star under her dress so it nestled against her breastbone, keeping it hidden but close to her heart.
We are the Cerulean. Our blood is magic.
Sera clung to that thought. She was a Cerulean. She loved her City and it did not matter that she was terrified. She would not allow it to matter. All she had ever wanted was adventure, wasn’t it? She should think of this as a journey, something that no other Cerulean had done in nearly a thousand years. She gathered up her courage and wrapped it in careful layers around her heart.
Maybe if she pretended hard enough, she would not feel afraid at all.
She and Leela left the bedroom together and headed into the sitting room, where her mothers were waiting.
“I am ready,” she said.
5
THE DAY GARDENS WERE AT THE VERY WESTERN EDGE OF the City Above the Sky, filled with the brightest flowers, purple hydrangeas and yellow tulips, red-gold fireflowers and pale pink ladyslips, and Sera’s favorite, minstrel flowers—they had iridescent petals in a rainbow of colors, and when they opened and closed, it sounded like singing.
Her reception here could not have been more different than it was at the Estuary. Everyone wanted to talk to her now. Everyone wanted to kiss her hand or the hem of her dress. Perhaps because this feast was for her, because she was meant to be ogled, the Cerulean did not find her presence so uncomfortable. The moonstone was warm against her skin, hidden under her dress, and she felt like she was carrying Leela’s heart as well as her own.
Koreen came rushing up to her as she entered the Day Gardens, followed by Treena and Daina.
“Oh, Sera,” she gushed. “I’m so happy for you. Mother Sun has graced you! How does it feel?”
That seemed to be the question everyone wanted an answer to, but no one wanted the answer Sera had to give. “I am honored, thank you,” she said, because it was easier than explaining the truth.
“I thought I was going to faint when the High Priestess called your name!” Daina exclaimed. “It was so very exciting, wasn’t it?”
“It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in years, that’s what my green mother said,” Treena added. “She never thought she’d live to see the City move again.”
“Oh, Sera!” Atana hurried over and kissed her on the cheek. Sera had always suspected Atana found her annoying, but it seemed no one remembered how they used to feel about her, just how they decided to feel about her now. “You must be so honored. What did it feel like, when your name was called?”
“Hot,” Sera answered truthfully.
Atana could not seem to decide whether she thought Sera was joking. “Oh. Yes. Well, you look lovely. Did your green mother make this dress?” Sera nodded. “I will have to see if she can give me some tips. Did you girls hear there is to be a wedding season soon?”
Sera couldn’t believe how quickly things had turned from her impending sacrifice to dresses and weddings. Her head hurt and she wanted to hide someplace quiet where no one could see her.
Koreen was smiling at Sera with a look she had never been on the receiving end of before. “We could go for a walk by the Aviary later if you’d like,” she said, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
Sera was stunned. Was Koreen flirting with her? She couldn’t remember anyone flirting with her, ever. She had tried flirting herself once or twice, with dismal results. The girls were never interested. And neither was Sera.
She looked at Koreen’s smooth silver skin and big azure eyes, her breasts curving under her dress, her silky blue hair swept over one shoulder. And she tried. She tried so hard to find something arousing about her.
But inside she was empty.
Sera didn’t realize she hadn’t given a response until Leela cleared her throat.
“Oh,” she said with a start. “I . . . I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Then she turned and wove her way through the crowd, trying not to make eye contact lest someone ask her again how she felt about being chosen.
Leela had a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “You just said no to Koreen. Koreen!” She shook her head. “I bet that was a new experience for her. See, I told you she would be after you now that you are—”
“The chosen one,” a green mother said, coming up and kissing Sera’s hand. “May I ask—”
“The chosen one is thirsty,” Leela interrupted, in a most un-Leela-like fashion. “Please get her a refreshment.”
The green mother ducked her head, the jade ribbon around her neck creasing. “Yes, at once.”
Leela pulled Sera behind a large rhododendron bursting with magenta blossoms. “This is better,” she said. “A little quiet. Just for a second or two.”
Sera wrapped her arms around Leela. They did not need to blood bond in this moment to read each other’s hearts.
“It’s awful,” Leela said. “Everyone pulling and tugging and wanting a piece of you. And only yesterday they—” She stopped talking abruptly.
Sera sighed. “I know. Yesterday they all thought me a nuisance. And today . . . well, I will be out of their hair soon enough.” Her attempt at bravado sounded weak in her own ears. Leela wasn’t fooled.
“You are everything a Cerulean should be,” she said.
But Leela didn’t know. Not really.
It was then that the minstrel flowers began to sing, joyful yet ethereal, heralding the beginning of the celebration.
“Come,” she said, taking Leela’s hand. “Time to stop hiding.”
There had been little time for planning, and so gossamer blankets were laid out, each piled with platters of food and pitchers of clear water and sweetnectar. There was a table set up under a dainty elm for the High Priestess and Sera and her mothers. Sera sat on a stool beside the High Priestess and wished she were home eating dinner in her kitchen. Leela and her family sat close by, and Leela kept making silly faces at Sera whenever their eyes met, until Leela’s green mother noticed and whispered in her ear to make Leela stop.