The Stars We Steal

by Alexa Donne

  “What did you steal?” I fought to keep the hard edge out of my voice. At least she was coming clean.

  “Some vaccines,” she replied. “They’re becoming scarce throughout the fleet, and Elliot wants to shore up our own supplies, in case there’s an outbreak on one of the poorer ships.”

  “What, so he can charge them an arm and a leg for protection?” I hissed.

  “No, no—he’d give it to them for free,” she insisted. “Elliot’s not what you think he is. Not as bad, I mean. You have every right to be mad, though.”

  I took a moment to cool down, turning over this new information. Was Elliot really some Robin Hood figure? Or was he lying to Evgenia, too?

  “And where is Elliot?” I tried to sound casual, but we both knew I failed. Evgenia was kind enough to pretend.

  “He said he’s done with Valg events,” she said. “Doesn’t see the point anymore.” She grimaced. “So, um, you don’t have to worry about running into him.”

  “Running into who?” Daniel asked, he and Asta returning with a basket full to the brim.

  “Lukas,” Evgenia chirped. “One of Leo’s early suitors.”

  “Ugh, that twerp,” Asta groaned. “Very handsy. Good on you, Leo, for ditching him. Daniel here is a gentleman.”

  I noticed he was carrying the sagging basket. Promptly I relieved him of it and started sorting the ingredients by the order in which we’d need to use them. The dessert task was an elaborate Swedish princess cake composed of many layers of sponge, jam, and pastry cream. More than half the class appeared stunned at the enormity of the task before us, but Asta appeared nonplussed.

  “My mother made sure I knew how to make an immaculate princess cake,” she said. Each of her knuckles gave a satisfying crack as she worked over them. Then she rolled her shoulders, like a boxer in the ring. “We’ve got this in the bag. Evy, when we win, I want to go skiing.”

  We set to work under Asta’s tutelage, the small talk a little less small this round. It was almost like old times with Evgenia, who brought her trademark wit and charm to the party. Daniel seemed to love her. More than once he nudged me in the ribs and told me the very same. A few times, I caught Evy observing us astutely. Her expression never gave away more than pointed interest, but I couldn’t help but wonder if she was cataloging every moment to report back to Elliot. Would he be jealous? No, that thinking was dangerous. Elliot was dangerous, I reminded myself.

  All the teams put the finishing touches on their cakes, topping them with whipped cream and carefully moving each one into an industrial-size cooler. Bjorn disappeared for a moment and returned a minute later, frowning.

  “Captain Lind has requested the prettiest cakes for tomorrow’s election dinner,” he said. “I, uh, forgot to factor in that I wouldn’t be able to taste any of the cakes. So based on watching you work and overall presentation, I am pleased to declare the winners Miss Asta Madsen and Leonie Kolburg’s team! See me to coordinate your digi-deck time.”

  Asta whooped with delight, and we all high-fived.

  “The election dinner’s going to be a terrible bore, so we should go to the digi-deck during that,” Asta suggested.

  “Actually, I’ve been invited to that dinner and I was going to ask Leo to go with me,” Daniel said, turning to me. “If you want to go? We can suffer together for a few hours and then mercilessly mock the whole thing with after-dinner drinks. On me, of course.”

  “I don’t know if I can take a six-course meal centered around my aunt giving speeches,” I joked. “But I couldn’t leave you to the wolves like that. Also, I loathe skiing, so it’s best Asta and Evgenia go to the digi-deck on their own.” It was a gesture of renewed friendship now that I was in a position to help out Evgenia romantically. Both she and Asta appeared relieved.

  Daniel broke into a grin. “I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”

  Twenty-Three

  Daniel arrived the following evening at six and spent the extra half-hour buttering up my father with a lively conversation about the theater, about which my father pretended to be an expert. Then at precisely six thirty, Daniel made our excuses and we headed out.

  The ballroom was littered with familiar faces, making all the more egregious the fact that I’d not been invited. I recognized nearly everyone participating in the Valg, plus many Scandinavian residents I’d grown up with. I harrumphed under my breath as Daniel led me through a clutch of people.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a drink,” Daniel said, mistaking the source of my grumbling, but I was grateful for the offer nonetheless. Especially as I spotted Elliot across the room. A shot of ice clutched my heart, but I breathed through my panic, inhaling and exhaling purposefully. This was bound to happen eventually. I had to keep my cool. So I pretended I hadn’t seen him at all. The picture of maturity.

  We moved over to the check-in table to retrieve our name tags. There wasn’t one for me, so I had to make one. I felt so welcome. My aunt clapped eyes on us and really drove home the point with her greeting.

  “Leonie, what are you doing here? I didn’t think you cared for politics.”

  “I’m here with Daniel Turan. My date.”

  He bowed graciously. “A pleasure as always, Captain.” Then he kissed the back of her hand. My aunt’s lips curled into a smile that almost seemed genuine. Daniel could charm the dead.

  She turned her attention back to me. “Look at you, actually making an effort with a boy. Well, a new one.”

  I could have killed her as she topped off her leading statement with a very pointed glance over at Elliot, who was fifteen feet to her left and currently chatting with Klara. This time, he didn’t miss my gaze, which followed my aunt’s on instinct. Elliot offered me an awkward wave. I ignored it.

  “We should find our seats,” Daniel said, linking our arms and already starting to pull me away. “Good luck with your speeches.”

  Seating wasn’t assigned, thankfully, as, knowing my aunt, she’d have been cruel and sat me next to Elliot for good measure. Three long tables with chairs and settings limited to one side were arranged in neat rows. Everyone was to face forward so we could not just listen to but also watch my aunt as she performed. We found a pair of seats at the farthest table at the back, next to Theo Madsen. At least now Daniel would have someone else to talk to. He couldn’t have missed my aunt pointing out my ex, and I was sure my pink cheeks had betrayed my feelings on the matter. Surely, after that, Daniel’s interest in me was shot.

  Before we sat down, Daniel grabbed two puff pastries from a passing tray and handed me one.

  “For the girl with the viper of an aunt, and a poncy-looking ex.” We pretended our hors d’oeuvres were glasses and clinked them together. I devoured mine in one bite.

  And with that, I was struck with the overwhelming sense that I would be an idiot not to marry Daniel. He was exactly what I needed—fun, light, honest, and kind. His wealth was a bonus—the only thing that mattered to my dad, of course—and his business was a legitimate one. Daniel even pulled out my chair for me.

  The realization settled in the pit of my stomach like an anvil, the reality and heft of our courtship suddenly real in a way our last few dates hadn’t quite driven home. Could I really do it?

  There was little time to dwell on such questions as my aunt rose to the stage and started her pontificating. We were to enjoy four courses, not the usual six, happily, but the catch was that, after a speech made to the assembly while we ate our salads, the captain would be joining each of our tables for the subsequent courses so she could answer our questions one-on-one.

  I powered through my pea soup with such speed that I ran out of food with which to busy myself, leaving me to actually listen to my aunt’s speech. She was just getting to the good part, it seemed.

  “We are entering an age of scarcity,” she she starkly. “Of the haves and the have-nots. Where our future and our prosperity are determined by archaic concepts such as usefulness,” she spat the word like it was dirty, and a grum
ble moved through the crowd.

  “The bigwigs on the Olympus talk a big game, but we all know where they spend their vacations. Usefulness is relative.” Her tone turned sickly sweet with the jibe, and several people knocked their glasses against the tables to show their approval.

  “But listen . . . I am a practical woman. Of course I am. I’m Swedish.”

  The Danes, Finns, and Norwegians hissed through their teeth, but the captain knew what she was doing. She waited a beat and then continued. “But we are all cut from the same cloth, we Scandinavians. Resilient, resourceful. And so it is my promise that while I will fight tooth and nail against these ridiculous measures that would compromise our way of life, I can also assure you that I have other things up my sleeve. Elect Lind once again, as you have these past twenty years, and I will protect this ship at all costs.”

  I marveled as people began to cheer and clap and whoop, apparently truly moved by my aunt’s bullshit. With no competition, she could say whatever she pleased, make any promises she wanted. I reached across the table for a bread roll, which I buttered heavily and shoved into my mouth. If I was chewing, I wouldn’t turn to Daniel and mutter about how ridiculous this all was.

  But the public speech was over, and the captain spent the appetizer and main courses with the two tables in front of us. We were spared an entire evening of political chatter, though my table didn’t make it easy. Theo and Daniel did indeed hit it off. Talk turned to visas and population control, and never was I more grateful for having rejected Theo. He toed a hard line on both subjects, displaying an appalling lack of empathy for his fellow human beings that unfortunately I suspected my aunt would agree with. But Daniel held his own, smiling while he debated as if they were engaged in friendly banter, even though he repeatedly eviscerated Theo with compassionate but well-reasoned arguments. At least I felt Daniel won the day.

  As it happened, Elliot and Klara were seated directly in front of us at the next table, and throughout the conversation, Elliot kept leaning back in his chair as if he were keenly listening. Every time I caught myself watching him listening to us, I pinched myself in the thigh. I ended up with a very sore thigh.

  Finally, our princess cakes from cooking class appeared, signaling the dessert course and our table’s turn to have the captain join us. My aunt sat down on the other side of the table, facing us all. Daniel and I had the misfortune to sit near the center, which put us just to the captain’s immediate left. She looked over expectantly at us, then right to Theo. Daniel jumped in before Theo had the chance.

  “So, Captain Lind, what’s your plan b? If your strenuous objections don’t work and the usefulness measure passes?” Daniel had gone straight for the jugular, but he was so charming that the captain’s first response was to laugh.

  “You’re tenacious, Mr. Turan, aren’t you?” She tittered. Then her razor-sharp eyes flicked to me as if to blame me for my guest’s cheek, even though I was the plus-one in this instance. She recovered quickly, and no one else seemed to notice her moment with me.

  “Unfortunately I can’t disclose what I have in the works to you, nor to anyone else here. It’s above your pay grades, so to speak.” The captain laughed, forcing the joke, so everyone else followed suit. “But I promise everything will be revealed in good time. I’m hoping to have something I can announce by the Valg Ball. Just in time for the election the next day.” She gave an exaggerated wink, and again everyone laughed.

  I shoved a forkful of cake into my mouth to stop myself from saying something uncouth. I wondered if Max and Ewan were a part of her secret plan. I bet they were. Though she could hardly announce the black market at the Valg Ball, could she? It was a silver lining to coming tonight. Maybe I could needle information out of her about what had happened with the Orlovs.

  Once dessert ended, we were left to casual mingling before the bar shut down, which was basically my aunt’s chance to glad-hand some more with everyone here. Daniel had stuck by my side all evening, which was a boon until now. I needed to get her alone, which meant distracting him with conversation. As Klara and Elliot passed on our right, I found myself doing the unthinkable.

  “Klara!” I called out to her, flagging them down. “You say hello to Daniel. He hasn’t seen you in years!” I dragged Daniel over by the arm, putting him face-to-face with my cousin, who was looking down her nose at me as if I’d suggested we go on a casual murder spree. Elliot hung awkwardly off to the side, eyes darting from Daniel to me and back again.

  “Uh, hello,” she said, the etiquette that had been drilled her into her as a kid taking over. She offered him her hand, and that gave me my window.

  “Oh, I see my aunt. I have to ask her a question!” And I zipped away before they could stop me.

  I hadn’t actually seen her, but she was easy enough to find. I just followed the sound of disingenuous laughter and terms of endearment.

  “Captain Lind,” I addressed her formally, and she was talking to a high-ranking Norwegian, so she couldn’t ignore me. “Can we have a moment?”

  “Oh, of course,” she replied with false brightness. I led her off into the shadowy recesses of the ballroom, affording us a modicum of privacy.

  “Why did you tell me that the Orlovs had passed their background checks?” I asked before she could shut me down. Surprise, confusion, then smug satisfaction masked by innocence worked their way across her features.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Max and Ewan didn’t pass. Evgenia told me. You lied to me.”

  “I’m sure I didn’t.” She dug in her heels. “I told you that Mr. Wentworth and Miss Orlova passed. I’m sure I didn’t mention the two gentlemen. Anyway, Leonie, it’s not a big deal. Most transporters don’t have a clean record.”

  It was the second time I’d heard that in as many days.

  “Anyway, I heard you went over to the Lady Liberty to see Miranda Fairfax. Any luck?”

  “Why?"

  “Just checking in on my favorite niece!”

  I didn’t trust my aunt on a good day, let alone now. The trick was, it would be stupid to lie—she’d find out the truth eventually.

  “I didn’t manage to see her, no,” I said carefully.

  “Oh, what a shame. Anyway, it was so good to see you tonight. Good luck with Mr. Turan. He’s a real catch.”

  And with that, she left me, retort dying on my tongue. “I know he is,” I muttered to myself instead as I made my way back over to him. Just my poor fortune, he was still locked in conversation with Elliot and Klara. From ten feet away, it seemed fine. Klara was nodding, smiling, and talking at intervals, while Elliot remained stoic by her side. His mouth formed a tight line, and every so often his eyebrow jerked a fraction of an inch, only to steady seconds later. Elliot didn’t want to be amused or entertained by Daniel, I could see.

  “There you guys are!” I plastered on a smile and linked my arm with Daniel’s, joining the chat circle. “Aunt Freja had to go kiss some more babies.”

  “Or kiss something,” Klara quipped.

  “It’s good that she finally invited you to one of these,” I said, “since you are apprenticed under her.” I meant it genuinely, no hint of sarcasm in my tone, but found myself on the receiving end of an epic glare from my cousin.

  “Actually I’m Elliot’s plus-one,” she ground out.

  “Oh. Well.” I stumbled over my response. “I wasn’t invited either.”

  “Elliot, what do you do? For a living,” Daniel cut in, saving me.

  “Whiskey,” Elliot replied with a near-perfect poker face. Only I noticed the microscopic wince at the lie. “I’m the heir to the Islay. Still learning the ropes a bit.”

  “I thought you knew everything there was to know about whiskey. All the nuances of how it works, and will always work.” I covered my veiled accusations with a syrupy sweetness, throwing in a smile for good measure. Elliot’s brow shot up. Satisfaction swooped through me at having broken his cool.

  “I’m
confident in my skills, the things I believe in. About whiskey,” he added hastily.

  “Hmm. You don’t worry about how it hurts people?”

  “Leo, what are you on about?” Klara snapped before I could have the pleasure of Elliot’s reply.

  “Personally, I don’t care for whiskey. Too strong for my tastes.” There was Daniel again, saving the day twofold. A waiter zipped by with a tray of wineglasses, and Daniel grabbed two, handing me one. Elliot quirked his head in examination of Daniel, surely wondering if he was in on our code and making a statement about the black market. I enjoyed seeing Elliot squirm.

  “You two are too cute,” Klara simpered. “I hear you’re a ninety-three-percent match. That’s practically kismet!”

  Heat flared across my cheeks, and now I was the one to squirm. I couldn’t help but flick a glance at Elliot. Had he checked his app and seen our ninety-six percent? He betrayed nothing. Elliot was blank. The swell of feeling that had been pushing up my throat drained away swiftly. I took a swig of wine and sidled closer to Daniel.

  “Where did you hear that?” I asked my cousin, tone light as whipped cream.

  “Carina told me, of course. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”

  “Of course! She’s always fiddling with my app, saying yes to people to try to nudge me in all sorts of directions.”

  “I still need to meet her,” Daniel jumped in. “If she’s the one who switched me to a yes, I owe her my thanks.”

  “If we leave now, perhaps we can catch her before she goes to bed,” I said, even though I knew it was a lie, but I’d just have to explain to Daniel once we’d escaped. I couldn’t bear this social torture any longer. Daniel read my signals perfectly.

  “Brilliant idea. So nice to chat with you all. Night!”

  As we wended our way toward the ballroom doors, Daniel leaned into my ear. “I won’t ask you about your ex and what that bizarre whiskey conversation is about, but can you fill me in on your sister?”