“Sera Lighthaven.” The High Priestess called her name again, and her orange mother whispered, “Stand up, darling.”
Sera’s legs trembled as she rose to her feet. She could feel every pair of eyes on her, like little points of light stabbing her skin. She wanted to look for Leela but found she could not tear her gaze away from the High Priestess’s face. Her heart, which had been thunderous in her chest a moment ago, now felt profoundly silent.
“You have been chosen by Mother Sun,” the High Priestess said. “It is you who will break the tether.” She held her arms out to the congregation. “Praise her! Praise the chosen one!”
And everyone in the temple bowed low, pressing their foreheads to the ground. Even the novices. Even the acolytes.
Sera had always longed to know what else the magic in her blood might be capable of, besides healing and blood bonding. She always thought there must be more to it, especially once her green mother had told her of how the evil humans on the planet tried to steal it. But she had never truly believed a choosing ceremony would happen in her lifetime and so had never considered the dangerous side to her blood.
“In three days’ time, Sera Lighthaven will make the greatest leap of faith a Cerulean can make,” the High Priestess announced. “She will throw herself from the dais in the Night Gardens and spill her blood to break the tether. She will be honored and cherished by us all as we travel to our new home!”
Hearing her say the details out loud, Sera felt numb. Her brain refused to believe the information, as if the High Priestess were talking about someone else.
We are the Cerulean. Our blood is magic.
The words held a new and terrible meaning for her now.
Her blood meant death.
3
ALL EYES WERE ON SERA AS SHE LEFT THE TEMPLE WITH her mothers.
The High Priestess had declared an evening of silence and meditation, so everyone was sent to their dwellings to pray and prepare themselves for the days to come.
Sera was eager to get away from the crowds. She hadn’t even tried to find Leela in the mass of Cerulean that surrounded her, praising her or gazing at her with awe, as if she had become something worthy of wonder over the course of thirty minutes. She didn’t like it. She was still the same Sera she had been this morning in the cloudspinners’ grove.
“It is an honor,” her orange mother said once they were out of hearing of the others. Her throat sounded tight as she spoke.
“It is a necessity,” her green mother said quietly.
Her purple mother said nothing.
For once, there weren’t a thousand questions buzzing around in Sera’s head. There was only one and it thudded over and over, louder than the beating of her heart.
Why?
Why her? The details she knew of the ceremonies in the past were scant, but she’d always thought an adult Cerulean was chosen. And it wasn’t just her age—she wasn’t as devout as Elorin, nor as beautiful as Koreen. She wasn’t as pleasant as Daina or as patient as Leela. The High Priestess had even called her a nuisance once, when she discovered Sera climbing the temple’s spire. Why would Mother Sun choose such a mediocre, bothersome Cerulean to help the City?
“Are you hungry, Sera?” her green mother asked when they arrived home. “I could fry you some squash blossoms.”
But the hunger she had felt earlier in the day had vanished, and her green mother’s suggestion seemed like a cruel joke.
“Or we could pray together,” her orange mother suggested.
Her purple mother simply held out a hand, her index finger glowing bright blue as her magic swirled under her skin. All Sera had to do was call on her own magic and touch her glowing finger to her mother’s. Her purple mother would read her heart and she would not have to explain herself.
But Sera did not feel like blood bonding right now.
She turned and ran to her bedroom, wishing, for the first time, that there was a door she could shut. The only doors in the City were on the temple and in the birthing houses.
She heard her orange mother’s footsteps approach and threw herself onto her bed, facing the glassy wall.
“Otess,” her purple mother called. “Leave her.”
There was a pause, and then the footsteps receded. Sera felt shame wash over her, hot and stinging. She loved her mothers more than anything. She hated the thought that she was hurting them.
But she didn’t call her orange mother back.
Sera stayed there, staring at the star mobile hanging above her, as evening slipped into night. She heard her mothers preparing for bed, sheets rustling, pillows being fluffed, and murmured conversations. She heard her name mentioned several times, but they did not come to see her and she was grateful for it. Usually there was laughter as the house readied for sleep, and the gentle sounds of kissing, but not tonight. Sera wondered if they were feeling as confused and heartbroken as she was.
She could not understand it. It did not make sense for Mother Sun to choose her. Because there were other things, deeper things that made her different, not just her loud laugh or her endless questions. Hidden inside her was the secret she could never let anyone know—that she was incapable of love. Oh, she loved her mothers and Leela, but that was not the only sort of love she desired. She had listened wistfully a year ago when Leela talked of her first kiss, describing how her heart had felt about to burst right out of her chest, the heady pleasure of the feel of someone’s lips, of someone’s hands on her skin. And Sera had giggled and laughed and hidden her ache, knowing that she would never feel that way about any of the girls in the City.
She knew it instinctively, the way she knew how to run and climb and breathe. It wasn’t like the novices, who chose to forgo marriage in order to serve Mother Sun. And it wasn’t like the Cerulean who preferred to live solitary lives, like Freeda—they still engaged in physical pleasure from time to time; they simply chose not to be in a triad. Sera did not choose this.
And worse, she had learned to lie about it. Even during the blood bond. This secret she kept tucked away so deep, not even her purple mother had ever heard it in her heart. And lying was wrong.
The house was too cramped, too stifling, too quiet. Sera slipped out of bed, climbed out the window, and began to run.
She raced along the banks of the Great Estuary, reveling in the feel of the wind in her hair, the mud between her toes, dodging branches of oak and spruce, the golden leaves of polaris trees brushing against her hair, the soothing murmur of the water keeping her company until she came to the island where the temple sat, a giant glass cone pointing up to the stars, its spire glinting in their twinkling light.
Aila’s Bridge was bleached bone white in the moonlight. Sera’s feet whispered over the wooden planks, and she kept clear of the temple doors as if they had eyes of their own. The doors made her think of the bowl, the way the markings had suddenly made sense to her. Heal them, they’d said. Yes, she would heal them. She would heal her beloved City by removing herself from it.
She vaulted over the hedge surrounding the back of the temple and made her way through the Moon Gardens to where a jutting adornment hung over the door that led to the novices’ chambers. She hauled herself up onto the glass shingles. Her fingers and toes were sure, her muscles bunching and releasing as she climbed up, up, up, until she was perched by the golden tip. It was peaceful here. She felt as if she was leaving everything behind, the City, her mothers, the dark fate that awaited her. Up here, there was nothing but the stars.