“I would think you mad if you did not harbor some doubts,” Xavier said calmly. “Which is why I have an offer of proof to show you, right here this very evening. James!” The sound of footsteps could be heard from upstairs. “You all know James Roth. A marvelous actor and the star of my final production. Well, perhaps the star no longer.”
Xavier gestured with a flourish as James led Sera down the staircase and into the drawing room. Leo had not had much to choose from in Agnes’s closet, nor had he considered how Sera might actually look in a formal dress, thinking only of finding the right color so as not to clash with her skin and hair. The gown was quite simple, ivory silk with a pink lace overlay and train. No frills or ruffles, just a golden detail around the bodice and lace sleeves that covered her shoulders. Hattie must have done her hair too, an elegant crown of thick blue curls dotted with pins of pearl and rose quartz.
When he saw her, Leo’s stomach flipped like he’d missed a curb while walking down Creekwater Row.
She was frightened, clearly—he could not blame her for that, being stared at by a bunch of men in an unfamiliar home. He told himself he should stop staring too, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her; she carried herself with an otherworldly grace, and her skin shone like a silver pearl in the light of the lamps. Leo caught sight of Robert ogling her, and his hands clenched into fists. Robert was known among their friends for his conquests, and Leo had the sudden urge to throw himself in front of Sera, to protect her from Robert’s possessive gaze.
James held her elbow firmly, her arms clasped behind her back; Leo saw the handcuffs hidden in the folds of her skirt as she came level with him, and it made his stomach churn. Two Pembertons shadowed her every movement, hovering just inside the doorway to the drawing room.
There were gasps and murmurs from the men, and more than a few covetous looks.
“What is she?” Mr. Conway demanded.
“She’s marvelous,” Mr. Wilkes said.
“I call her Azure,” Xavier declared. Agnes’s face twisted in distaste at the name. She had her arms folded across her chest, alternately glaring at their father and casting Sera worried glances.
Sera saw his sister and a look passed between them, something Leo didn’t understand, but Agnes gave a tiny shake of her head and Sera responded with a nod. Then she caught sight of Leo and her eyes narrowed. She took a small step away from him. Leo was seized with the impulse to shout that he was sorry, that he hadn’t known what was going to happen when he caught her with the net launcher, that he’d only been thinking of himself and how he might impress his father. He hadn’t thought of her as a person. He hadn’t thought about her at all.
“I think it is time for a demonstration,” Xavier said. “Ezra, if you will.”
Kiernan held up a syringe, showing it off to the crowd like a magician about to perform a trick.
“No, no, please . . .”
The voice caught Leo entirely off guard. It was low and musical and distinctly female. It certainly wasn’t Agnes’s voice, but the only other girl in the room was Sera. That didn’t make sense.
Leo watched, stunned, as Sera spoke again.
“Please don’t do this,” she begged.
What . . . was . . . happening? How was he able to understand her all of a sudden? Maybe everyone else could hear her too. Perhaps his father and Kiernan had figured out—
“What is that gibberish she’s speaking?” Mr. Horne asked.
So Leo was the only one who had understood. He rubbed at his ear.
“She cannot speak our language,” Xavier explained. “But she is not here to dazzle us with words.”
Leo thought he saw his sister mouth “I’m sorry” to her. Could Agnes understand her too? His mind was spinning, making it hard to focus on anything. Maybe he’d been hit on the head harder than he thought. Maybe his brain had suffered some sort of damage that Sera’s blood couldn’t cure.
Xavier grabbed him by the wrist and held up Leo’s hand.
“You see my son’s palm here—unblemished, not a scratch on it. Do you all agree?”
Leo’s instinct to yank his hand away was tempered only by eighteen years of absolute obedience to his father. Xavier nodded to Kiernan—James was gripping Sera’s elbow so tight that his knuckles were white. She shrieked as Kiernan sank the needle into the crook of her arm.
“No!” she cried, and Leo knew this was no hallucination. “Stop, stop, please! I am a Cerulean and my blood is magic and you cannot take it from me!”
Kiernan held up the blood, part two of this magic trick—its rich blue color was shot through with glimmering facets of light, and there were gasps from the audience. Leo felt a sharp slash across his palm and his father held up a small knife, wet with his son’s blood. There was a dull thrumming in Leo’s ears, and the edges of the room went fuzzy. Agnes looked like she was going to be sick, and in some faraway part of his brain he thought, That’s strange, I thought she liked dissecting things.
“Xavier!” Mr. Conway bellowed.
“My son will be fine,” he said. “Watch and be amazed, Hubert.”
Leo’s hand throbbed, the pain setting in like a thin streak of fire. James had to actively hold Sera back as Kiernan approached Leo with the syringe. He removed the needle and carefully administered three drops of blood along the length of the cut.
“No,” Sera moaned, and she seemed to weaken as she struggled against James’s grip.
It was awful, being able to understand her. All the times he had heard her speak came back to him in a rush—what had she been saying when she clutched for her necklace? What had she cried out when he caught her with that net?
She looked to his sister. “Agnes, help me!”
She knows my sister’s name. Agnes’s face was chalky, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt, her shoulders tense. Leo was certain Agnes could understand Sera too. But she was as powerless as he was in this room, in this moment. No one besides the twins paid Sera any mind; all eyes were on Leo’s hand. The audience surged forward and the men’s faces lit up with shock and amazement as they watched his skin knit itself back together until his palm was once again smooth, not even a scar to show where Xavier had cut him.
“In the name of the One True God . . .”
“How can this be?”
“It is as if he was never cut at all!”
“It’s a miracle.” Hubert Conway was thunderstruck. “It’s an absolute miracle.”
“This blood is a gift, bestowed upon my family for a purpose. As are the Arboreal and the mertag,” Xavier said. “And I intend to use them. Who here will join me in this venture? Who will invest in the future of Kaolin and the health of its people with me?”
As if Xavier cared a jot for the health of Kaolin or its people, Leo thought grimly. The men were clamoring for his father’s attention, eager to outdo each other, waving their checkbooks and shouting to be heard. Leo’s hand was grabbed and examined and poked at like he was a magician’s assistant and not the future leader of the McLellan enterprise.
Suddenly, Sera let out a scream, and it seemed to him like it had an edge of excitement.
“Can someone stop that god-awful shrieking?” Wilbur Grandstreet muttered.