The Stars We Steal

by Alexa Donne

  “It’s all very stupid,” Max said. “We went for a short trip to the Versailles and forgot to tell them where we were going. But now we’re back. No big deal.”

  Ewan nodded along unconvincingly. Lies. They’d been gone four days. I reminded myself that these were smugglers, working alongside Elliot to run his black market. Not friends. And I wasn’t stupid. We’d run into them in the forward part of the ship, not the aft, where their shuttle would have docked. It was clear they were heading to the Sofi now, from wherever they’d been at the front part of the ship.

  I opened my mouth to ask the most pointed of questions, but then I felt Daniel’s hand on my elbow.

  “Are they your friends, Leo?”

  “Oh, yes, these are my renters,” I said, too brightly. Daniel didn’t notice. Max and Ewan did. They knew I knew about them.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Daniel Turan.” Daniel offered his hand, which both men limply shook.

  “Nice to meet you, but we must be getting back,” Max said tightly. “Good evening, Your Royal Highness.”

  They were already ambling off before I could protest.

  “Sorry to jump in there,” Daniel said. “But they seemed off, and I wanted to ensure you were safe. They obviously don’t know you well, since they used the honorific.” I nodded numbly, watching Max and Ewan retreat. I was left with a creeping suspicion: that Max and Ewan had been on the Scandinavian the whole time, and something was very, very wrong.

  I tried to put it out of my mind as we made the rest of the way to the royal quarters. Elliot and his friends weren’t my problem anymore.

  “I had a really good time tonight,” Daniel said as we reached my door.

  “Me too,” I said, surprised that for once, I didn’t have to pander. Tonight had been entirely unexpected, in more ways than one. The image of a shell-shocked Max and Ewan resurfaced in my mind, and I shook my head to clear it. Instead, I focused on Daniel’s golden-brown eyes, which twinkled like stars.

  “I hope you’ll see me again? Soon?”

  “I’d like that,” I stammered out. “Want to sync wrist tabs so you can ping me?”

  Daniel nodded enthusiastically and pushed up his sleeve. My eyes went wide. I’d never seen a wrist tab quite like it, far larger and more elegant than any model anyone on the Scandinavian had, let alone mine.

  “It’s the latest from the Nikkei,” Daniel said, answering the question before I asked it. I watched, fascinated, as he depressed both sides of the tab face with his thumb and index finger. With that pressure, all four edges sprang back, the screen ballooning to twice its size. The graphics whizzed onto the screen, crisp and full-color, as Daniel pulled up the contacts app. I did the same with mine, my tab face suddenly minute and lackluster in comparison to his, and touched our two units together so they could sync. After a moment, each device let out a pleasant little plink to let us know it was done.

  “I’ll ping you tomorrow, then.”

  “Okay!” I barely suppressed a high-pitched giggle, hiding it behind a cough. “I’ll see you later.”

  Daniel graced me with one last smile before slinking off, leaving me dazed and giddy. The strange encounter with Max and Ewan now pushed to the back of my mind, I entered our quarters with a stupid grin plastered on my face. The lights were off, save for one lamp, which illuminated my sister and where she sat on the couch.

  “What happened to you?” Carina inquired, rising from her perch.

  “Were you waiting up for me?” I asked, approaching cautiously.

  “Yep.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “Why?”

  “Because we came back here very abruptly, you’ve avoided me since yesterday, and then Father tells me you went to one of the social events, alone and willingly? Are you sure you’re my sister?”

  I was abuzz from the evening but weary from the whole Lady Liberty trip, and not at all ready to share the particulars about Elliot, the black market, and the worry that niggled at me. Carina picked up on my reticence and sighed. “You owe me an explanation. It doesn’t have to be tonight. But I do want to know why you looked so happy when you walked in.”

  “I met a boy,” I said, grin bubbling up once again. I caught my sister frowning.

  “What about Elliot?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” I plunked down onto the couch with a sigh.

  “Not even twenty-four hours ago, you were lovesick and smitten,” she said, aghast. “What changed?”

  I picked at some imaginary lint on my skirt, pointedly refusing to answer.

  “Is that why we left the Lady Liberty so abruptly and came back here? I was really bonding with Ben, and all you could think about was your own issues—”

  “It has to be over with Ben,” I snapped.

  “What?” Carina’s legs seemed to give out from under her, and she plopped down onto the sofa beside me, face pale, lip quavering.

  “He’s not suitable,” I said. Ugh, here I went, diving into this awful conversation when I’d said I wouldn’t; not tonight.

  “‘Not suitable.’” Carina drew a deep breath, her features now alight with quiet fury. “Because he’s poor? Because he works in sanitation? Leo, you massive hypocrite.”

  “It’s complicated,” I hedged. “And besides, you knew him for a grand total of twenty-four hours. Not even. Don’t be so dramatic,” I bit out harshly. I couldn’t tell her about Elliot’s business, about the danger our family was in because of it. Carina had come a long way, grown up so much lately, but I didn’t trust her not to tell someone, or do something stupid like try to fix it.

  “Well, I’m glad you met someone suitable, Leo. I hope you marry him and he takes you far, far away from here, and from me.”

  She slammed our bedroom door so hard, I felt it from the couch. Then I heard the click of the door locking. I collapsed back into the couch cushions with a groan and closed my eyes.

  That was not the way I had wanted that to go. But I was proud of myself for keeping the truth to myself, for protecting her. Better she hate me than get caught up in the black-market business. She would forgive me eventually, I hoped.

  For now, I was locked out of our room, and thus sleeping in my bed would not be an option. Guess I’d be kipping on the couch. With a sigh, I pulled a throw from the back of the couch and settled in to sleep.

  As I closed my eyes, I tried to focus on pleasant thoughts to lull me into sleep—Daniel’s glittering eyes and half-wicked smile, raspberries and champagne and stars. But then Daniel’s visage morphed into Elliot’s, his eyes hard and the line of his mouth firm, calling me desperate and sad and awful. Worst of all was how my stomach fluttered at the thought of him still, my heart aching for his touch, despite everything. I gave up, finally sinking into sleep as a replay of our last dance, our almost-kiss, played through my mind. Tomorrow I would work on hating him, but tonight, I let myself have this.

  Twenty-Two

  I rose early, my back stiff from contorting myself on the couch cushions. I rolled my neck, and it gave a satisfying crack. I needed coffee.

  As I opened the canister, taking a deep whiff and then setting to work brewing a pot, I couldn’t help thinking on what had set all this in motion—the hunt for more coffee, Elliot and Nora conspiring in the living room, an escape to the Sofi, and discovering that Max and Ewan were missing. Was that truly only a few days ago?

  No one had come to arrest me, which hopefully meant that things were fine for now. I could simply avoid Elliot and the Orlovs for the next few weeks, the Valg would end, and then it would be over. Goose bumps crawled over my arms and legs as I shivered, not from the cold, but from disgust at myself that I could be so complicit in a criminal enterprise. Because clearly my answer was to avoid them and do nothing. I would keep it all a secret, it seemed, to protect my own hide. Well, to protect my family, and our home. It was both noble and revolting.

  “Ah, good, you’ve already made coffee,” came my father’s groggy voice from behind me. “Make some to
ast with jam, too, while you’re at it? You can tell me all about your evening while we eat.”

  I did so without complaining, for once fine with the prospect of sharing news of my romantic pursuits.

  “His name is Daniel, he comes from the Empire, and he is fabulously wealthy,” I started, tone wry. Father sputtered into his coffee.

  “Are you being serious?”

  I nodded. “We made a good connection, and he’d like to see me again.” Then Father wrinkled his nose.

  “British, though?”

  “He’s British Iranian Norwegian, actually,” I offered. “Didn’t tell me his mother’s family name, come to think of it, but he used to come here as a child. Said he played with Klara, so they must be of some consequence.”

  “That is the best possible news, Leonie! I’m so proud of you.” He meant it. I felt a warmth run through me at winning my father’s pride and approval, finally, but then hid the sadness of my smile behind my coffee cup. Why couldn’t he be proud of me for my wits, or charm, or business acumen, instead of my ability to net a wealthy husband? I should have been used to my parent disappointing me by now, yet I retained a stubborn, foolish hope that he would value me for who I was.

  “When are you seeing him again?”

  “He said he’d ping me today.” I checked my wrist tab. No missed messages. It was early, though.

  “Yes, good, wait for him to contact you. Let him lead. Be careful of being yourself. But be sure to lock him down soon. Two weeks to go until the Valg Ball, and you don’t want him to switch his interest to someone else.”

  As if he were psychic, Daniel chose that very moment to send me a message. Father nearly jumped out of his chair when my wrist tab pinged.

  Tonight? the message read, and with my father watching, before I could second-guess myself, I replied, Sure!

  Then I checked the app to see what tonight’s activity was, and groaned. Hiking on the digi-deck. Perhaps I had replied too hastily. Too late now. I would put on pants, and I would walk at a steep incline, and I would try my best to look winning and be warm and clever and marriage material. I had two weeks to convince Daniel he wanted to marry me. Who cared if I hated myself for doing it?

  * * *

  The next few days were a whirlwind of perfectly pleasant dates coupled with acute emotional torture. After a pool event came karaoke, and after that came a movie night, where it was as if the film had been selected to remind me of Elliot. In it, a detective showed up in Austria, only to find out his friend had been murdered . . . except that he was actually alive and well and secretly a dastardly criminal. By the time they started talking about cuckoo clocks, I was squirming in my chair, and poor Daniel was apologizing for my being bored. I spent the rest of the evening trying to convince him how much I’d liked the movie and that I was having a good time.

  I did have a good time with Daniel, and whenever I actually allowed myself to be distracted, I almost forgot about Elliot and the Orlovs and their bad business. Almost.

  Carina, Klara, Evgenia, Elliot—none of them came to anything for days. The absence of everyone from the Valg events was just a reminder that everything had imploded and no one wanted to see me. Suddenly the people I loved were ghosts. Even in my own home, I barely saw my sister. She fell into bed late and rose early, losing sleep in order to avoid talking to me.

  I began to wonder if I’d imagined it all. The last few weeks seemed unreal as the Valg events and dating Daniel settled into a rhythm and started to feel normal. Who needed friends?

  Me. I did. So when Evgenia swanned into the next Valg event with Asta Madsen on her arm, my breath seized in my chest. We locked eyes, hers going wide with panic. I felt a twinge in my gut, an ache that my friend was uncomfortable. Promptly my icy veneer melted, and I couldn’t help but offer her a half-smile. Let’s talk? I projected. Evgenia got the message and nodded.

  The event of the day was a team cooking challenge where we had to get together in groups of four to produce an entrée and a dessert. Recipes were provided, and the best meal won its team a private evening on the digi-deck. We were left to choose teammates, so it was easy enough to pull Daniel over in Evgenia and Asta’s direction.

  “So nice to meet one of Leo’s friends!” Daniel beamed, shaking Evgenia’s hand enthusiastically. “I was worried I’d stolen her away and you all hated me.”

  “Not at all.” Evgenia was too good an actress to betray her surprise.

  “Daniel and I matched ninety-three percent in the Valg app,” I blurted, suddenly filled with the urge to explain myself to Evgenia. She raised a single, perfectly tweezed brow.

  “Higher than my brother,” Asta said. “He’ll be happy to know he was beat fair and square, then.”

  “Was it a competition?” I asked. Asta shrugged.

  “Evy, come with me to get the ingredients,” I said, grabbing the instructions for the first dish and heading for the pantry. I sensed Evgenia at my heels, and silently she picked up a shopping basket while I searched the shelves for an onion. Other couples dashed around us, grabbing ingredients, but we took our time, waiting for the others to filter out, leaving us alone.

  I tossed the first volley. “My mother’s dresses, Evy?”

  She appeared rightly cowed. “I didn’t know how much they meant to you. I tucked them away the first few days we were here, before I really got to know you, and I just forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you, then? For lying to me, or the criminal enterprise?” I couldn’t help the chill in my tone.

  “Both,” she said. I’d never seen her so serious. “It’s . . . complicated. And it got a bit too big for me, all the lies, and layers to it.”

  “Was I always just a mark to you? Elliot said your specialty is ingratiating yourself with high-class ladies.”

  “Indeed, that is what I’m good at.” Evgenia laughed darkly, half to herself. Then she deposited a bag of sugar into the basket. “But, no, I didn’t consider you a mark,” she continued with a sigh. “You became a friend, truly. And you have to believe me, I tried to put a stop to it all, almost as soon as we arrived and I got to know you. I told Elliot to quit his stupid jealous revenge mission, begged him to tell you everything. He said he tried?”

  “Don’t make excuses for him. He knew what he was doing.”

  She looked at me sadly but didn’t contradict me. “You have every right to be mad. And I’ll leave Elliot to clean up his own mess. But I hope you and I can try to mend our friendship? You’re one of my only girlfriends. I’m surrounded by impulsive, impetuous men. I really like you, Leo. Genuinely. Nutmeg.”

  “What?”

  She pointed behind my head. “The nutmeg is behind you. Last thing we need. Oh, and an egg.” We each grabbed our respective final ingredients.

  “I . . .” I trailed off, unsure of how to respond. It seemed too easy to just say it was all water under the bridge and move on. But she didn’t seem to be lying to me now. Maybe I owed it to myself to try to parse out how much of my friend Evgenia had been real. Good friends, especially girlfriends, were a rare and valuable find. “We can try to be friends again.”

  Evgenia lit up, her features returning to their natural state. Then, at the door to the pantry, she hesitated, and dropped her voice low.

  “Are you going to report us? I’d understand if you did, but of course I’m hoping you won’t.”

  I barked a bitter laugh. “I have no choice. You’re using my ship. Elliot set it up perfectly so that our destruction would be mutually assured. I’ll keep your secret. It’s mine now too.”

  Evgenia frowned. “This is all a fine mess.”

  “And we haven’t even started cooking.” I attempted levity. We headed back to our station, where Daniel and Asta awaited us. We launched into our main dish, exchanging polite small talk as we worked. I counted down the minutes until the break into the dessert, waiting for the next chance to talk with Evgenia more. My mind was only half on the cooking. I kept coming up with more questions for her. To keep th
em from popping out of my mouth, I stuffed it with the gravy and meatballs we’d made. We were permitted to eat our entrées, I was delighted to learn. Dessert was to be saved for a special event, the instructor, Bjorn, told us. He came around when we were done and tasted our dishes, betraying nothing as he chewed. After Bjorn had made his way around the room, he returned to the front.

  “Now for the dessert course! This one will be strictly timed, to make it a bit more challenging. May the best cake win!”

  My eyes went wide as I scanned the ingredient list. This cake would require half the pantry. I saw my chance to get a long stretch of alone time with Evgenia without arousing suspicion.

  “Daniel and Asta, why don’t you go to the pantry this time?” As soon as they left, I pounced. I leaned in close to Evgenia so no one else would hear. “How did you guys pass your background checks? It’s been bothering me.”

  Evgenia’s mouth formed an O of surprise, but quickly she composed herself. “Well, Elliot and I did. The business doesn’t work unless he and I come out clean, since we hobnob with the well-to-do.” Her eyes darted left and right, and she lowered her voice. “Max and Ewan didn’t. We knew they wouldn’t. They’ve been in trouble a few times for being caught with contraband. But usually it’s not a big deal, because they play all sides. The Olympus dings their record, but they make up for it by running a few missions for them free of charge. No one in transport is clean.”

  It meant my aunt had lied to me, and shortly thereafter Max and Ewan had gone missing. Only I was half certain they’d never gone anywhere at all. They played all sides, Evgenia said—were they playing some side with my aunt now?

  “There’s one more thing I have to tell you. It’s been eating me alive with guilt.”

  I snapped back to attention. “What?”

  “The night of the space walk, I wasn’t really sick. I was faking it to get into the med bay.” Her cheeks burned red with shame. “I hated doing it, fooling you like that—making you take care of me! But it was one of the tasks Elliot had assigned me, and I saw my window. I feel horrible about it.”