by Alexa Donne
For a moment, there was just the sound of our breathing coming scratchily through the comms.
“Saying yes to her at speed dating was a mistake. A remnant of my stupid, horrible plan to make you jealous. I was in her room before yours, and then you apologized . . . You knocked me sideways, Leo. And, well, you were big enough to apologize to me then, and I’m apologizing to you now. So if you could stop bringing it up constantly, that would be great.”
“Maybe I wanted to make you suffer a bit,” I quipped. I played it light and easy, but his confession pinched and pulled at my insides. It felt so real, and I wanted it to be. No long game, just Elliot being himself with me. I wanted a chance with Elliot again. I did a pinwheel flip, let myself go around a few times. Head over heels. And then I got a grip on myself.
“I’m not the only one you need to apologize to,” I said breathlessly. “Carina’s been twisting herself into pretzels over you. And you were flirting with her as recently as last night. If you’re not interested, she deserves to know. Gently.”
Elliot sucked in air through his teeth. “Is she really that smitten?”
“Elliot,” I responded sternly, “listen, I’m trying to get her interested in someone else, but she’s stubborn.”
“Family trait,” he said. “And you’re trying to get her interested in someone else, huh?”
“With Klara vying for your attention and Carina in her cross hairs? Absolutely.” He was fishing again for my feelings, and I refused to lay everything out for him.
“Being rich and eligible is exhausting.”
“If only you could see how hard I’m rolling my eyes right now.”
The timer began to beep in our earpieces and the tethers pulled taut, the ship already reeling us in.
“Goodbye, terrifying yet beautiful vacuum of space,” I said with one last turn toward the stars before we crossed the airlock threshold.
“You are nothing if not a contradiction,” Elliot mused as we bobbed up toward the ceiling. I hooked an arm around a protruding handlebar, managing to drag myself closer to the floor so that when the outer airlock door finally shuttled closed and gravity returned to the room, the shock of impact wasn’t too bad. Elliot, however, wasn’t quick enough, and he fell to the floor with an undignified grunt.
“Why a contradiction?” I asked breezily, suppressing a laugh. My helmet came off with a twist, and I sucked in several pulls of fresh air. Well, fresher inside our spaceship than inside the spacesuit. Not a complete monster, I offered Elliot a hand to get to his feet.
“Why did you go on a space walk if it terrifies you?”
I knew that “Spite” wasn’t a great answer, so I shrugged. “It was too beautiful to miss.”
Several contortions, and I still couldn’t quite grasp the end of the suit zipper. I swiveled once, twice, like a wavering top, until on my third go-round I caught Elliot staring at me. “What?”
He snapped out of his reverie. “Let me help you with that. Then you can do me. Help me out of my suit, I mean.”
I nodded, because of course, yes, we should help each other; that was normal. Elliot and I were normal. Except that we most decidedly were not. Suddenly the air was thick with the awareness of each other’s bodies as we shed our spacesuits one at a time, moving slowly, like an awkward pair of lovers. Which we were, once. Though I was fully clothed, I felt naked. Elliot refused to look me in the eyes. What had gotten into him?
“We should return these to the maintenance hold,” I said once we’d fully unsuited ourselves. Elliot nodded and followed without a word as I led us out of the airlock and back to the storage room. We stowed the suits where we’d found them and made our way back to the lift. The bridge was empty as we passed, I noted. Captain Lind, whatever she was up to, had retired for the night.
“I hope Evgenia’s all right,” I said, attempting neutral conversation as we walked.
“Evgenia?”
“Yeah, she’s sick?”
“Oh, right. Maybe take her to the med bay?”
We drifted into opposite corners of the lift once it arrived. After thirty seconds of going nowhere, it became obvious that neither of us had hit the button. Nervous laugher bubbled between us, and we each deferred to the other to do the honors. Finally, I gave up on awkward politeness and did it myself. What was wrong with us?
The silent but happily short lift ride didn’t provide any answers—Elliot pointedly studied the floor, then the walls as we walked the rest of the way to the royal quarters. As soon as we went inside, Elliot was back on form, placating a snippy Klara, who pouted at him for abandoning her. My cousin waved me in the direction of my family’s apartment when I inquired as to Evgenia’s status, so I left them behind. Elliot didn’t seem very worried about her, oddly.
I found our quarters quiet but for the sound of retching coming from the en suite bathroom my sister and I shared. I popped my head into the bedroom to find Carina sitting on her bed, staring worriedly at the closed bathroom door.
“She didn’t want me in there,” Carina explained. “And I told her she could have your bed . . .”
“Yes, good thinking,” I said, wanting to be annoyed. But I had to applaud her thoughtfulness—my bed was nearest the bathroom door. “I’ll kip on the couch.”
“You’re leaving me with her?”
“I’ll be in the next room, twenty feet away.”
Carina worried her bottom lip. “What if she gets worse?”
“Then wake me, and I’ll take her to the med bay.”
“Klara said they were closed,” Evgenia croaked, appearing in the bathroom door. Her usually porcelain-perfect skin was red and blotchy. “She said we could go in the morning.”
I rolled my eyes. “Klara knows as well as I do that the doctor can be reached at any and all hours for emergencies. Dr. Jensen just loathes being woken up in the middle of the night. It’s not even that late yet. I can call him and have him come here.”
“No, no.” Evgenia shuffled over to my bed with a hand clutching her stomach. “I’m okay for now. I’ll ride it out tonight, and we can go to the med bay in the morning. I don’t want to make a fuss.” She collapsed onto my bed but stopped herself short of lying down. “Wait. I can’t take your bed. Sorry.” Her attempts to heave herself back up onto her feet were sad, to say the least.
“I insist. Just last night, you hosted me. It’s my turn.”
“Yeah, but I made you sleep on the floor.”
We both laughed, hers quickly turning into a groan. Then Evgenia curled into a ball on top of the covers. I threw a duvet over her and grabbed a spare for myself, plus a pillow, from the closet.
I considered heading back out to the royal quarters, to disrupt Klara and Elliot’s flirting time, but caught myself. After how awkwardly the space walk with Elliot had ended, I would be a masochist to subject myself to being the third wheel, the interloper, in whatever conversation they were having. At this point, I wasn’t sure if it would ever be okay between Elliot and me again. Every time I thought we’d fallen back into an old, familiar rhythm, something would knock us off-track.
No, I would sleep, recharge my body and my mind from an emotionally exhausting twenty-four hours. I needed to get up early anyway to check on Evgenia. Med bay opened at seven, and despite the flicker of responsibility Carina had displayed, I knew that if anyone would be sacrificing a lie-in tomorrow morning for the sake of our friend, it would be me.
I closed my eyes and thought of stars. Swimming in them, pushing aside the terror to find the calm. Recalled floating, the steady pressure of the tether. The calm that came from knowing Elliot was there by my side. Try as I might to banish him from my mind while awake, now I was on the edge of dreams. And in my dreams, Elliot could stay.
Fifteen
My traitorous body dutifully awoke me at six a.m. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and padded over to my bedroom to peek inside. Evgenia was still curled up under the covers. I hadn’t heard any retching in the night. Maybe she was better.
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I veered over to the recess kitchen, where I discovered our coffee stores frustratingly bare. I had given my father one job—to keep us stocked in his precious coffee—and he couldn’t even manage it. I’d have to venture out into the greater royal quarters to snag some from their kitchen. Briefly I debated getting dressed, but at six a.m., who would I possibly run into? Maybe one of the servants, but I didn’t think they would judge me in my pajamas. At least I was in proper clothes this morning. A simple pants-and-top set, it covered all my essential bits.
“You’re up early.”
I startled, swinging around in a circle to identify the source’s location. I found Elliot sitting to my right.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sleeping. Or I was.”
“On Klara’s couch?”
“Technically I think this is Captain Lind’s couch,” he said. “I wanted to stay close for Evy. How is she doing?”
“Last I saw her, she was sleeping. And it’s not like you checked on her last night.” I frowned. Elliot might have disavowed any feelings for Carina last night during the space walk, but he’d cracked a joke when I’d mentioned Klara. My stomach turned at the thought of the two of them together.
“And what are you doing out here?”
“I need coffee. We’re out.”
“Good thing the Linds have more than enough of everything.”
I raised a brow at the unusually cutting remark but didn’t respond.
“Elliot, I think I figured out—Oh.” Nora stopped short of the doorway that led to the dining room, two cups of coffee in hand. One for her, one for Elliot? “Hi, Leo.”
“Leo was looking for coffee,” Elliot filled in.
“Here, you can have this one.” Nora closed the distance between us, offering me one of the cups. She kept her gaze angled toward the floor.
“No, I couldn’t. That’s yours. Besides, I was going to grab a bag, replenish our stock.”
“But—” Nora shoved the cup my way again, shooting a glance over at Elliot, as if he could help.
“I’ll just go do that, leave you two to it.” I was already on my way to the door before I was done speaking. If I stayed any longer, I’d blurt something unkind. Questions. Accusations.
Suddenly I remembered something Nora had said to me the night of the opening ball and the terrorist attack. A “friend” had brought her champagne. Elliot had come back into the royal private public quarters from this direction. And Father had been fussing about champagne going missing. And then just the other night, Elliot had paid extra attention to Nora at the below-decks party, dancing with her.
I rushed into the darkness of the Linds’ supply cupboard, which was actually its own room, for all the supplies they kept. But that was neither here nor there. I hated the way my blood thrummed faster, how upset the prospect of Elliot and Nora made me. Elliot and anyone. I was a mess.
I needed to get back on mission. Scanning the shelves, I finally found the coffee supply, which wasn’t in its usual spot. They were down to only three canisters, and I felt bad taking one, but needs must. Odd, given that they usually had at least ten stocked at all times.
Ding-ding.
My wrist tab pinged with an incoming message. I pulled it up. It was an infuriatingly dry form response from the office of Miranda Fairfax, full of Thank you for your inquiries and Ms. Fairfax offers select walk-in hours. No indication that an actual human had read my words or given a shit. I almost fired off a snippy response but just stopped myself. I’d have to dig more, ask around, and try to get Miranda’s personal-message details. Going via her office just wasn’t getting me anywhere.
Then came a message from Carina.
Where are you? Evgenia’s throwing up again. Need to take her to med bay.
I pushed aside my questions—and dreams of a hot cup of coffee anytime soon—and sprang into action as I always did. As my aunt had said, I was reliable to a fault.
After rallying a grumpy doctor to work, I dropped Evgenia off at the med bay to rehydrate, at her insistence. I had tried to stay with her, entertain her through the boredom of being hooked up to an IV drip, but her want won out over mine. Evgenia was quite someone to engage in a battle of wills with. Besides, I was uncaffeinated and thus not at my best.
By the time I returned to our apartment, Father was up and had brewed coffee. Nothing was said about where the new canister might have magically appeared from. I didn’t press it, just poured myself a generous cup.
“What’s on the Valg agenda for today?” His tone was suspiciously light, too pointedly neutral.
“I don’t know,” I said with a protracted sigh. “Despite two days without anything on the official roster, I’ve been out with Klara and the gang the past two nights. I’m exhausted.” I could play the passive-aggressive game too, show him I’d been trying.
Father frowned. “That group hardly counts. No one there for you, is there?”
“Lukas was there the other night,” I snapped defensively, immediately regretting it as Father lit up with interest.
“Oh, the Hagens are a fine family. Very wealthy.” He always got to the heart of the matter. “Still, you mustn’t put all your eggs in one basket. Check today’s schedule. Go ahead.”
Too tired to adequately protest, I pulled up my tab and dutifully did so. “There is a wine-and-painting event this afternoon,” I read off. “I’ll pass.”
“No, no, go. Take Carina. Cultured boys will be there.”
“Dad,” I ground out.
“Don’t try me, Leonie. You need to make an effort. No resting on laurels. You have less than three weeks left, and that’s not a lot of time for you.”
“What do you mean, for me?”
“Don’t read into it—”
“What, you mean that I need more time to get some hapless fool to agree to marry me because I’m so difficult to like?”
“We both know you’re prickly.”
“Dad!”
“Your mother was just the same. Very passionate. Chatty. An acquired taste.”
I rolled my eyes. How dare a woman speak her mind? And Carina prattled on just as much as I did, just about innocuous things, like parties and people in our social circles.
“Speaking of your mother,” he continued, “I didn’t see you bring on board her prize dress collection. You girls will be needing those for the Valg Ball. Everyone will be there, and I want my girls looking their best. To be perfectly frank, I’m a bit shocked you left them on the Sofi for those renters of yours to get their hands on. My crown jewels, too. What if they steal them?”
“They’re not going to steal them,” I scolded. “I couldn’t possibly realistically bring every single one of our possessions over here for just a four-week stay. The jewels are in the safe, and Mom’s gowns are in storage. I’ll get them this week, though, if you’re really worried.”
Father nodded, frowning seriously. Then he handed me his tab. “Read that, from today’s Tribune. So you understand how serious this is.”
As my eyes scanned the words on the screen, I felt the blood drain from my face. There had been an amendment to the proposed usefulness measure. Private ships were to meet a wealth threshold or else be decommissioned and used for scrap. It was a preemptive measure as our fleet neared its two-hundredth year and several ships were beginning to seriously wear. The vote would be held next month, just in time for the Valg Season’s end. So now there was a real expiration date—I needed to either patent and license my filtration system and thus become useful, or marry rich.
“So you and Carina will be attending the sip-and-paint event?” Father asked innocently, and I just nodded.
* * *
I daubed my paintbrush until it was heavy with blinding yellow, then worked it on top of the inky black-and-blue swirling sky. It was strange to represent the stars from such a foreign perspective. I wondered at how the Earth-bound masters once gazed up at the night sky, contrasting mountains and cathedrals with dazzling brilliance
on their canvases. We were recreating a Van Gogh, our too-tipsy instructor going off on long tangents about texture and ears and proper Dutch pronunciation.
I wasn’t sure how we were meant to romantically connect to anyone during this activity—everyone sat hunched over their respective canvases, trying to mimic the style of a master. Plus, we’d been left to choose our own stations, which meant I was in a cluster with my friends, and so the few conversations we could get in edgewise were hardly in service of the Season. Which suited me just fine, of course. It was all ladies, besides, as Elliot was pointedly absent. My stomach twisted with worry that it might be because of me. When Klara had asked, Evgenia had offered an excuse of his needing to run some errands. As for Evgenia, when I inquired about her fast recovery and rallying for the painting event, she’d waved me off, citing her robust Russian immune system.
“I don’t know how we are supposed to meet people, glued to a canvas,” Evgenia said, voicing my very thoughts. She craned her neck around the arboretum at the crowd. “It’s an awful turnout, too. Hardly any interesting women.”
“Or men,” Klara huffed. “It’s my stupid mother’s fault. Holding her political luncheon at the same bloody time. She invited all the most interesting boys, trying to win them over for votes.”
“I don’t understand the point of campaigning if she is unopposed,” Evgenia mused. “It’s a strange practice. Is it a Swedish thing, like the ABBA decor?”
“It’s all pomp and circumstance,” I said. “Gives the appearance of democracy without any of the messiness. And my aunt doesn’t need an excuse to throw a party.”
“But you were not invited?” Evy indicated Klara, Carina, and me.
“Bor-ing,” Carina singsonged, lost in her painting. Hers was not even remotely faithful to the original, but I found her neon-pink-and-purple swirls charming, nonetheless.