“What?”
“He told me before the show started. Threatened me, really.” She tugged at her dress. “Guess he’s going to be disappointed on that score.”
“Does he know about us working together?”
She shook her head. “He thinks I’m trying to flee my engagement and run off to Pelago.” Her face turned sad. “Poor Errol,” she murmured. “In that net . . . and Boris is so lovely. They’re real, Leo. They’re marvelous and real and . . . god, he’s such a monster, keeping them like this.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve established that. But we’ve got our own jobs to do. We’ve got to trust Sera now. She’ll get them out.”
“Not Boris,” Agnes said. Leo thought she might cry, but instead she took a deep, fortifying breath. “I know. You’re right. It’s just all so overwhelming, now that it’s happening.” She let out a disgruntled huff. “I should’ve known one of his spies would have seen me at the docks.”
“At least he doesn’t know what you’re really up to,” Leo muttered, glancing around at the attendees milling about, gossiping over the first act in between sips of champagne and bites of caviar. He had to get backstage. He wanted to see Sera one last time before this whole plot began—or ended. One way or another. “I’ll get us a cab and have it waiting at the corner by the backstage door. You leave when—”
“Right as James Roth and Grayson Riggs start to sword fight. I know.” Agnes pressed her clutch to her chest and gazed up at him, her cinnamon eyes full of anxiety. “We can do this, right?”
“We can do this,” Leo said.
She flashed him a wobbly smile.
Leo wove his way through the crowds and platters of canapés back to the theater, where he pretended to check on the moss in Errol’s pond just in case his father happened to be looking.
“Get ready, Errol, you’re almost up,” he muttered. Then he climbed the steps to the stage and slipped behind the curtain. Crew members were clearing props and rolling on set pieces for the beginning of the second act. Sera’s crate was nowhere to be found.
“She’s in dressing room three,” Francis said softly, and Leo whirled around. “The one with all the Pembertons by the door.”
“Thanks.”
“I won’t let her down,” he promised.
“I know,” Leo said, and he found he truly believed it. Whoever this slight young man was, he had a big heart and his every word rang with sincerity. Leo wondered how someone like him had ever come to work for Xavier McLellan.
He wanted to say more but didn’t have the words, and even if he did, they would be too dangerous. So he held out a hand.
Francis grinned and shook it. “Good luck,” he said. “Take care of her.”
Leo nodded, a lump growing in his throat. He found the dressing room easily enough, and the men stepped aside at the mention of his father. The room was small and warm, a copper basin in one corner and a desk in another. Sera was sitting in a stout leather armchair, and she stood as he entered.
“Leo,” she said, a smile breaking across her face. A smile. For him. Leo felt a sudden wave of light-headedness. They had bathed her and done up her hair in a pile of soft blue curls. She wore a stupid crown in the shape of the sun on her head, but her dress was magnificent—champagne satin that clung to her body in a way that suddenly had him feeling very distracted. He buttoned his tuxedo jacket and cleared his throat.
“It’s almost time,” he said. “I’m off to get a cab to take me and Agnes to the Seaport. Agnes says our ship is small and at the very northern edge of the docks. It’s called the Maiden’s Wail.”
“Got it,” Sera said with a nod. “Errol says he can find any ship, day or night. He’s very confident.”
“That makes one of us.”
Sera took a step toward him. Leo could feel the heat from her body, the floral-starlight scent of her surrounding him.
“I misjudged you,” she said.
He swallowed, trapped by her sapphire gaze.
“No,” he said. “You didn’t. But you changed me. And I . . . I’m grateful for that.”
Then he bowed low, as he would to a Kaolin woman of high birth. But Sera was so much worthier than that. He felt his face go red and he straightened, feeling like a bit of an idiot. But she looked pleased.
“Is that the way Kaolin people say goodbye?” she asked.
“Er, no. It’s the way they show respect,” he explained.
“Ah.” He could see her filing it away in her sharp mind. Then she bowed to him.
“Did I do it right?” she asked.
“You did,” he said, unable to suppress his grin. “Oh!” He reached into his pocket. “I brought it back like I said I would. It will be yours again once we’re all safely on our way to Pelago.”
The pale stone gleamed in his palm as he held the necklace out. Sera took it, tears filling her eyes.
“Leela,” she whispered, cupping the pendant in her hands.
“Five minutes to places, folks!” a voice called from the other side of the door. “Five minutes!”
“I’ve got to go,” Leo said. She handed the necklace back to him. “I’ll see you at the Seaport.”
She nodded. “The Seaport.”
“Good luck, Sera.”
She shot him a rueful look. “I do not need luck. I have Mother Sun watching over me.”
“See if she can look out for me and Agnes, too, while she’s at it,” Leo said. He would take all the help he could get at this point.
Sera’s smile shone brighter than her sun crown. “She will.”
40
Agnes
“WHERE’S YOUR BROTHER?” XAVIER ASKED AS THEY took their seats for the second act.
“He came to tell me the girl was having a bit of a fit,” Agnes said, repeating the line they had practiced the night before. “He’s staying back there to keep her calm.”
“Let’s hope he is capable of that,” Xavier muttered. Agnes felt it best to keep her mouth shut. She was not the liar Leo was.
The lights dimmed and the curtain opened. She barely heard the lines being spoken onstage. Was Sera up there behind the top curtain right now? She hoped they could really trust this Francis person to leave her unchained on the swing. And besides that, would Errol actually be capable of breaking the glass ceiling?
Agnes would not be around to see any of these questions answered. She waited and waited, fighting the urge to fidget, her hands clenched so tightly around her clutch that her fingers were starting to go numb.
At long last, Grayson Riggs appeared onstage, unsheathed his sword, and challenged James to a duel.
“Father,” Agnes whispered. He waved her off. “Father,” she said again more insistently.
“What?” Xavier snapped.
“I’ve got to use the restroom.”
“You can wait until the show is over.”
“No, I must go now. It’s . . .” Agnes steeled herself. “It’s my monthly cycle, Father.”
All the color drained from Xavier’s face. She might as well have just confessed to murdering someone.