by Alexa Donne
“Every five minutes, a buzzer will sound and a new gentleman will join you,” my aunt continued. “Gentlemen, you move to your right on each rotation.”
I glanced across at my first “date,” Theo Madsen. Like his sister, Asta, Theo was lanky, with short honey-blond hair and deep blue eyes, which were currently focused to my right, at my sister. Also to my right, next up for me, was Lukas Hagen. This was going to go so well.
“Now, you are each wearing a special sensor on your lapel that will pull up each other’s profiles on your Valg app and offer you a yes-or-no option. At the end of the evening, we’ll notify you of any mutual matches, and you can see your compatibility score based on your questionnaire. Easy!”
I fussed with my sensor, which I’d pinned awkwardly to my dress, whose unfortunately plunging neckline meant I kept feeling the sensor slip down into my cleavage. I righted it once more and caught Lukas enjoying the view.
“All right, ladies, head inside!” Lind called out, leaving me no time to do anything about it.
I slunk uneasily into a ten-by-ten room that was wall-to-wall screens. A dull purple light illuminated the space, barely. Even the floor was made of glass that would conform to the illusion. I didn’t see any props in the room, which made me curious what Theo’s ideal date would be. He’d always been a bit wild, so I was just relieved there weren’t any rigs indicating an extreme-sport activity.
After about thirty seconds of waiting, the door shuttled open and Theo stepped inside. He offered a little wave, a nod to our having known each other pretty much our whole lives and yet rarely speaking.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
And then we fell into silence as we waited for the door to seal and the room to plunge us into Theo’s fantasy date.
First the screens went black. Then the room swelled suddenly with loud music—insistent percussion, growling guitar riffs, and men screeching at the top of their voices. The light on the screens came up, just slightly, and we were in the middle of a crowded club. Well, the illusion of one. On one wall was a stage with a band playing its instruments with aggressive feeling, and on all other sides were people swaying, jumping, shoving one another.
“What the hell is this?” I screamed over at Theo, who had his eyes closed as he bounced up and down to the beat.
“PROG METAL!” Theo shouted back with a full-on grin.
“This is your idea of a great date?”
“Don’t you like it?”
“Uh.” I loved dance music, like EDM, and this had the barest hints of that. But it was just a bit beyond me. “It’s fine,” I hedged.
For a minute, I tried to dance, let Theo have his fun. But then he remembered that the point of this, theoretically, was to talk to each other. He pulled in close, talking loudly into my ear.
“What are you thinking?”
“Is that a trick question?” I didn’t trust too-attractive people. And Asta was always playing tricks in school. Theo was three years older than we were, so I wasn’t sure where he stood.
He shrugged. “Just a conversation starter.”
“Okay . . .” I tried to think of something semi-clever and not too personal. “I’m thinking it’s very weird that the captain is moderating a speed-dating event. Bit below her pay grade.”
“She’s your family, so I figured you’d have guessed.”
“Dressed?” I shouted back, mightily confused.
He shook his head, leaning in even closer and pitching his voice louder. “She’s glad-handing. For elections. At least a quarter of us here are voting age, and another quarter may very well marry the quarter of us who live here. Lots of new voters to woo. I think she wants us all to think she’s hip and fun.”
“She is neither of those things.”
Theo threw back his head and gave a great laugh. And then for a minute we danced. Or, more accurately, leaped around a bit. You couldn’t say I didn’t try. The song, at least, had levels, and during a slightly quieter bridge section, I took up the conversation again.
“What about you? I hear you’re angling to marry a Lind to get a foot in yourself. Maybe my aunt’s here to keep an eye on my cousin, make sure you two don’t get too close.”
Theo eyed me shrewdly. “What if my plan is to woo you, instead? Or your sister?”
“My sister is the least political person you’ll ever meet, and we both know you have zero interest in me.”
Theo stepped back, sly grin on his face. “You’re feistier than I thought you’d be.”
“And you’re . . . tall,” I replied, deadpan. “But seriously, are you interested in my cousin?”
“Should I be?”
“If you’re aiming to become captain of this ship someday, yeah, probably. Though, that said, she’d never let you be captain. But you’d still get the political access, if that’s what you want.”
“It’s what my parents want,” he said, “and maybe what I want, just a little. I’m not the only one, you know. I’ve heard at least three other guys here are interested in the Lind ladies for the same reason. A few women, too, if you’re so inclined. So watch out.”
“How kind of you to look out for my virtue,” I said. “I don’t get the appeal of political power, anyway.”
“It’s your family’s fault for limiting Scandinavian power in the fleet to the royal family and captainship. Some of us want to protect ourselves, and having a voice in fleet government is the only way to do that. You saw at the opening ball. Things are getting messy out there.”
A buzzer sounded, calling time and ending my conversation with Theo on an oddly chilling note. The sounds of the concert faded into nothing, and the screens went dormant.
“See you later, Leo.” He gave me a small salute and exited through the now-open door.
My wrist tab buzzed, prompting me to rate him yes or no. Surely I was a no for him, but . . . what if he put yes? Just in case, I picked no—I didn’t want to match with him and seem desperate.
I leaned against the far wall, marveling at the sweat pooling at the base of my spine, as if I’d actually been jumping around at a concert. In fact, it was stuffy in here—of course they’d altered the room temperature to suit the illusion. Gross.
A soft chime sounded, and the wall at my back began to buzz.
“Please step back from the wall,” a mechanical female voice said.
I jolted forward just in time as the back wall slid up. All I could see beyond was black, but I could hear something shuttling, like a conveyor belt. After a moment, a platform slid in through the opening in the wall, and I had to hop back to avoid it hitting me in the shins.
I didn’t even notice the door behind me open and Lukas come in. I was too distracted by the piece of equipment in front of me.
“Awesome!” Lukas crowed, launching himself at the bench press in the middle of the room. He whipped off his shirt and lay down, clasping the weight with both hands. I was left speechless as the screens, all now fully back in place, transported us to a gym.
“Aren’t you gonna spot me?” Lukas asked. I felt my jaw clicking.
“Your ideal date is you working out at the gym?” I asked. There was only one piece of equipment. Nothing for me to do but watch him. At least I’d be less sweaty. I could feel cool air now being pumped into the room.
“Don’t you like the view?” Lukas waggled his eyebrows, flexing his muscles. “And seriously, I need you to spot me.”
I spotted him, all right. And I talked about all the food I enjoyed eating the whole time, just to irk him. Five minutes couldn’t be over fast enough, and rating him no was easy.
And on and on it went, a parade of boys from so many ships—the Versailles, Nikkei, Shanghai, Empire—and I feared my brain might begin to dribble out my ears, for all the dull small talk I was engaging in. And then there were the “dates.” I was subjected to rock climbing, hiking, three instances of “dinner” (sans food), a cheesy sunset walk on the beach, the opera, deep-sea diving—all virtual fa
csimiles of the real thing that ranged from boring to excruciating. A few of the boys were cute and well-meaning enough, but after fifteen, they all began to blur together and I couldn’t remember their names.
Then Elliot walked in.
“Uh, hi,” I offered awkwardly, taking a seat on the couch that had shuttled in through the wall seconds earlier. It began to snow. A fireplace crackled to life on the screen across from us. Oh, no, it was quiet and cozy, which meant we’d have to actually talk.
“Hey. How’s it been going?” He joined me on the couch, which I realized as he sat down was really more of a love seat. It was definitely built for two and meant to corral us close. Which it did. I could see beads of sweat drying on his temple.
“Been exerting yourself?” I asked.
“Dancing. Why? Do I smell?”
“Oh, no, just you’re a bit sweaty.”
“So are you. Dancing too?”
“Rock climbing.”
Elliot furrowed his brow. “That’s weird. You hate outdoor sports.”
I hated how well he knew me. And the thrill of happiness that spiked through me at his consideration of what I did or didn’t like—I hated that, too. It would be pathetic of me to allow myself even a moment of hope. Elliot had come here to see me suffer; he’d said so himself. That he’d been kind of nice to me at the pool, that he was being kind of okay now, was meaningless. I needed to remind myself of that. I reminded him, as well.
“What are we doing, Elliot? A few days ago you wanted me to suffer, and now that I am, you’re concerned.”
He looked as if I’d caught him mid–high-priced heist. Red crept into his cheeks.
“I’m really sorry I ever said that. It was in the heat of the moment, and . . . well, I did mean it, before I came here. I entertained wild fantasies of you being miserable, petty, and shallow, that it would be easy to hate you. But it’s weird. You’re exactly the same but completely different.”
That statement was uncannily correct, for both of us.
“Anyway, it seems wrong to kick you when you’re down.” He grimaced. “Sorry; that came out wrong.”
“No, that’s pretty accurate.” I sighed. “I owe you an apology. For everything that happened. My reasons for not marrying you were right for me at the time. I don’t regret that. But I’m sorry for the way it went down. It was cruel to say yes and then change my mind the next day.”
There was still so much left unsaid, like how despite the logic of it all, I’d never stopped loving him. That I’d said yes to his proposal and been happy for those fleeting twelve hours because I hadn’t wanted to think about the practicalities. I had wanted to be another person, the kind of person who could run off with the person she loved and be poor but happy. A part of me still wondered if I could have been.
“Wow.” Elliot sank back into love seat. For a moment, he wouldn’t look at me, and panic seized at my insides. It felt like the right thing to say at the time, but what if I’d gone and made things irreparably worse—?
“Thank you, Leo. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that. I hope this means we can be friends again?”
Friends, yes. We could be friends. I nodded.
“Good! I think you’re the only person on board who likes the same things I do.”
He indicated the side table, and for the first time, I noticed there was something on it. Two somethings. I picked them up.
“Are these reader tabs?”
“Reading by firelight as it snows outside,” Elliot supplied. “A mix of a few things I mentioned on my questionnaire. And you like books. So this is why I’m wondering if the app tries to mesh together the interests of both parties.”
“Well, my date with Lukas was him lifting weights and me spotting him, so tell me what part of that aligned with my interests?”
“Oof.” Elliot cringed. “Other than that, you meet anyone you like yet?”
Oh, okay, we were launching into this level of friendship straightaway. It wasn’t awkward discussing my marriage prospects with my ex-fiancé at all. I forced a laugh. “No, and I have no intention to.”
Elliot tilted his head in confusion. “Aren’t you trying to find a husband?” I appreciated that he left off the word “wealthy.”
“Uh, no, that’s my father’s plan. I have other ideas for saving my family, thank you very much.”
“Like?”
So I explained: about the water-recycling system, the patent, trying to find a pilot ship. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to tell him everything, but a part of me wanted to show off. Show him that I wasn’t some damsel in distress.
“But what happens if you can’t get the patent or the pilot ship before the Valg Season is over? Won’t your father make you marry someone?”
“Please don’t remind me.”
“Well, maybe one of these guys will be a mutual match?”
“I doubt it. I’m sure they all said no.”
Elliot grinned and picked up his tablet. “I bet you’re wrong.” He began to tap and swipe the screen, his smile turning more mischievous than I liked.
I leaned forward with a whisper. “What are you doing?”
“You’ll see . . .” He glanced down, then quickly back up. What was he—oh, God, I’d given him a view straight down my cleavage. I shot back up and waited. Finally he thrust the screen at me. “You have three yeses.”
“Did you . . . hack the speed-dating system?”
Elliot shrugged. “I helped Captain Lind program it, so not exactly. But yes. I can’t tamper with the results, but I can see what everyone put.”
I’d forgotten he could do that. His father, who had managed the Sofi’s security systems, had taught his son everything he knew. Apparently Elliot had sought additional education since leaving us and had progressed to full-on hacking.
“You shouldn’t be such a pessimist,” he said, taking back the tablet. “Three out of fifteen is pretty good.”
“You should check my sister,” I said, more than a bit petulantly. “Bet she’s gotten fifteen out of fifteen. Surely you gave her a yes.”
“Leo—”
Elliot started to speak, but then the buzzer sounded. My wrist tab buzzed, insisting on the rating, but my finger hesitated over the screen. Who was I kidding? Elliot was a yes, always. I couldn’t hate him, not really. But there was no way he was marking me a yes, and since he could easily hack the system, that meant I had to rate him no. My pride demanded it; I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of my desperation. Still, hitting no made me itch.
I deflated back into the couch cushions, half tempted to curl up and take a nap. My next few “dates” could watch me sleep! But then came the chiming voice again, telling me to vacate my position. I hopped up just as the couch started moving backward into the wall. It was replaced by a karaoke machine. Oh, no.
I looked up to find Daniel walking inside. Finally, I remembered his name.
“Are you as exhausted as I am?” he asked. “I think I’ve discussed my hobbies and family at least eight times by now. Uh, not that I don’t want to hear about yours.”
“I’m boring,” I replied. “I like to read, dance . . .”
“And sing, I hope.” Daniel picked up one of the mics and handed it to me. With a couple of taps and swipes, he pulled up the song-catalog menu. “We don’t have time for any of the classic marathon numbers, but we could do something short and poppy.”
“We’re seriously going to sing karaoke?”
His laugh was warm. “Only if you want to. But I’m hoping you want to.”
I didn’t actually hate karaoke, so it wasn’t too hard to acquiesce. It beat most of my preceding dates by a mile. I let Daniel pick the song and knew it immediately as it started up. It was an old, cheesy British pop song about the person you loved no longer loving you. And Daniel, sneaky thing, pushed the mic at me when it was time to start singing.
“This one’s a bit high for me.”
I should have been annoyed, but I liked the way his eyes spark
led and the fact that he was my first suitor who seemed to care whether I was having fun. Even if his song choice was unintentionally a little bit on the nose. And so I belted the hell out of the song, even as inside I cringed at every lyric reminding me of Elliot.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Daniel said, stopping the song as it launched into the third repeat of the chorus, “but you seem miserable.”
I felt my face heat as I brought my focus back to Daniel. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I stammered out an apology. “It’s not you, I promise.”
“Oh, it’s fine! I like it. It’s good to know someone else hates this whole thing as much as I do.”
Even as he said it, he was grinning.
“You don’t seem like you’re miserable.”
But he waved me off. “I’m the son of entertainers. It’s in my DNA to fake it.”
“Who are your parents?” I asked half out of politeness, half from desperate curiosity.
“Turan Entertainment?” he offered sheepishly.
It hit me like a lightning strike. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put it together before. “You basically own the Klaviermeisters.”
“Uh, just the tours. Not the people,” he said with a laugh.
“So is it your dad making you do this? Or your mom?”
“Both,” he said. “They met during the Valg and swear by it. Mum wants grandkids, and Dad wants to ensure an heir to continue the family business. They act like I’m going to die any day now, but I keep reminding them I’m only twenty.”
“Right? My dad acts like I’m a spinster at nineteen!”
Daniel suddenly turned grim. “You’re nineteen? Oh, dear, that’s it . . . We’re done; you’re ancient.” Then he cracked a grin, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“You are far too good an actor,” I said. “I believed you for a second. Although I’m fairly certain half the boys here totally believe that. I’m over the hill, and far too serious.”
“Not too serious. You’re keeping up with me, and that’s quite the feat.” He winked.
“You’re rather full of yourself, aren’t you?” I could say the same of so many people here, but on Daniel, I liked it.