“Studying in the summer, are we?”
Leo jumped at the sound of his sister’s voice. She leaned in the doorway, a half-eaten apple in hand, her hair pulled up in a messy knot on the crown of her head. Leo closed the book with a dull thud.
“The Wars of the Islands, huh?” he said. “Better not let Father catch you reading about a Pelagan victory over Kaolin.”
Agnes shrugged and tried to look nonchalant, but Leo knew better. If there was one thing he and his sister had in common, it was a healthy fear of their father.
“It’s his book,” she said. “It’s not like I bought it.”
“What are you doing here anyway?” Leo grumbled. “Don’t you have a frog to dissect or something?”
“It was a rat,” Agnes said, taking a bite of apple. “And I’ve already finished.”
“Ugh.”
Agnes loved science. Although upper-class women weren’t allowed professions in Kaolin, their father indulged her privately, something Leo envied and also never quite understood. It was so out of character for him. He’d even built her a little lab out of the walk-in closet in her bedroom. Leo found it macabre—who would want to sleep with frog corpses and snakes suspended in formaldehyde next door?
“For a big strong man, you’re awfully squeamish.”
“For a delicate lady, you’re awfully disgusting.” He gave her a cursory once-over. “I assume Father isn’t home yet.” Leo could imagine the fallout from Xavier seeing Agnes walking about the house in her lab attire.
She was wearing an old shirt of Eneas’s—he was always spoiling her, giving her whatever she wanted—and a pair of pants that had once belonged to Leo. By the time he realized she’d stolen them, they were covered in all sorts of disgusting stains.
“No, so I don’t have to wear a stupid dress until dinner,” she said. “Which reminds me—Eneas said it’s to be quite the affair tonight. That Pelagan man Father has been working with all year has finally arrived in Old Port. He’s coming to dinner, and I think Father has invited some single Kaolin society women to entice him.”
Leo smirked. His father was such a clever man. After living in Pelago his whole life, this man was sure to be pleased with the way proper Kaolin women behaved around men.
A thought occurred to him. This was his chance! He would impress the Pelagan and show Father that he was capable of handling international affairs. He knew nothing about this new project (his father was incredibly secretive), but he would do some light research on his other shows—the one with the two-headed man and the bearded ladies in Pearl Beach was doing quite well, he seemed to remember, and The Great Picando had just closed at his father’s renowned theater, the Maribelle, in Central Square. Leo had seen it several times—he liked that it had women actors in it, unlike some of the plays in Old Port that cast young men to play women. But it was quite stuffy as far as the writing went. Your basic save-the-Kaolin-woman-from-the-evil-sins-of-polytheism. The Great Picando had been played by James Roth, a rising star in the theater scene. Leo had asked his father to introduce him, but he must have forgotten. Which was understandable—his father was a very busy man.
This was Leo’s moment to prove he was important. He was a McLellan.
Agnes groaned. “Whatever thought is behind that smug look on your face, keep it to yourself. I don’t want to know. Dinner’s at eight. You better look sharp.”
“I always do,” he said, and it was true. No one knew how to put an outfit together better than Leo did. All his friends said so. “Do let me know if you need any assistance with your wardrobe. I’m sure you must have something from the current century in there somewhere.”
Agnes smiled at him sweetly. “Thank you, dear brother, but I’d rather take fashion advice from the dissected rat.”
Then she turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her.
By seven forty-five, Leo was dressed and ready and had even had Janderson, his manservant, get him some figures on the business to look over.
It seemed that the anti-Talman plays were doing very well in the rural areas around the Knottle Plains and on the coast of the Gulf of Windsor. The Points, the three peninsulas that jutted out from Kaolin’s southwestern edge, seemed to prefer Xavier’s more outrageous theater, dancing bears and men with flippers instead of feet. Old Port enjoyed a healthy mix of the two. Leo was surprised to find that The Great Picando hadn’t done quite as well as he’d imagined—ticket sales had declined over the course of the run.
He studied his reflection in the large, gilt-framed mirror over his vanity and had to admit, he looked rather dashing.
The blue-green tie matched his eyes perfectly, setting off the crisp ivory shirt, and his beige linen waistcoat and slacks completed the outfit. Leo didn’t usually play up his eyes but thought perhaps it would help with another Pelagan in the room. The only thing missing was a beard. It was some genetic quirk of his mother’s, he was sure, but Leo could not grow a beard, and it caused him everlasting shame. A few sparse whiskers would sprout on his upper lip but nothing more. A Kaolin man’s beard was his pride—Xavier McLellan’s was practically a work of art.
Leo turned away from his reflection and held out his wrists so Janderson could do his cuff links.
“No, not tonight,” he said, when the man reached for his favorites, light blue encircled with diamonds. “Bring the Solit triangles.”
He was impressed that Janderson had chosen the blue, as they were what Leo would have wanted to wear otherwise. He didn’t say anything, though—he’d never once heard his father praise a maid or a servant. Not even Swansea, the old butler who had been around since the dawn of time, received a kind word. His father was meticulous and he maintained respect at all cost. Leo would follow his example.
Xavier would like that he wore the Solit cuff links. The symbol, a triangle with its apex crossed by a crescent to represent the light the One True God shed on the people of Kaolin, shone as golden as the sun and was impossible to miss. Leo felt it declared: I am righteous. I belong.
“How do I look?” he asked Janderson.
“Very good, sir,” the young man replied. “Your father will be pleased.”
Leo thought perhaps he should give some sort of order before he left. Xavier was always giving orders as he left a room. “Do clean up that mess before I’m back,” he said, waving a hand in the direction of the papers scattered across his desk. He left without waiting for a response.
Agnes was already in the parlor when Leo arrived.
True to form, she was wearing some hideously ancient thing; a dull-colored, high-collared dress with ruffles poking out of the sleeves. And it was maroon. In August! Leo honestly had no idea how they were related.
Agnes was standing between two attractive women in their early twenties, a glass of champagne clutched in one hand and an unhappy expression on her face. Leo didn’t recognize one of the women, but the other was Elizabeth Conway, his best friend Robert’s sister. The Conways had built most of the railroads in Kaolin and had acquired a massive fortune over the years. Leo thought it highly unlikely that Elizabeth would be interested in marrying a Pelagan, though maybe his father had invited her as a show of strength, to prove to this man that he had important friends.