But she dreaded the coming dark months. For the past two years, she’d spent the depth of winter reading or working on her experiments. Now that her experiment had succeeded, she wasn’t sure what she’d have to occupy her time, other than thoughts of the boy staying on her grandfather’s estate and internal debates about whether she should risk replanting the wheat she’d worked so hard to develop.
Late in the season there was a break in the weather, a mild spell, like autumn’s last gasp of warmth before winter took charge. And in the midst of the mild days and nights, an invitation arrived on the North estate to a party. Both of the Miss Norths were invited, but when Tatiana heard that every Post on the North estate was invited as well, she declined. At that point, Elliot thought she had better go, lest the Innovations think her absence was due to the same reason.
“They say he may marry Olivia Grove,” Dee told her as they walked through the woods on the way to the Boatwright house on the night of the party. They brought Jef and Ro with them, though the young Post boy was growing frustrated with Ro’s regular detours off the path in search of remaining fall leaves. He’d complained twice to his mother, who’d just shrugged and smiled. He’d learn patience with the Reduced. He’d have to, to work on the estate.
“I believe you’ll find that rumor originates with Tatiana’s housemaids.” Elliot’s sister had grown obsessed with the notion, probably because of how much it terrified her. Elliot would allow no other possibility, not even as she noticed how Tatiana had begun incorporating stronger colors into her wardrobe and had even added a braided gold fringe to her fall jacket. That a Post would marry had been Tatiana’s first shock; naturally it would give way to the fear that a Post would marry into a Luddite family.
“Oh, no,” Dee said. “It’s all the talk among the Posts at the Grove estate.” Dee pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. She grew larger by the day, and Elliot wondered how long it would be before she was unable to perform her duties. Her father would surely force Dee to be confined in the birthing house then. “Apparently he and the other two Cloud Fleet captains are over there constantly. They say Miss Grove is in love with him.”
“Since when does being in love with someone mean you get to marry them?” Elliot asked. “Olivia Grove is fourteen years old. She’s not marrying anyone.”
“You only say that because you’re a Luddite,” Dee replied. “I was fourteen when I met Thom, and we had Jef a year later. Things work differently for Posts.”
Elliot brushed her fingers over the back of her hand, remembering being fourteen. Not so differently. Of course, things hadn’t worked out so well. “What makes you think that a rich free Post could love a Luddite?”
Dee gave her a look. “I have heard of a poor bonded Post doing so.”
“That’s different. The poor Post”—this hypothetical poor Post who might have once, long ago, loved some hypothetical Luddite—“would have something to gain.”
“I don’t believe it,” Dee insisted. “And there’s something to gain even for free Posts. They’d bring money to the estates in return for a raise in stature and Luddite rights for their children. But with . . . him—” Dee had the same problem calling Kai by his new name as Elliot did. The words Malakai Wentforth felt wrong in her mouth, though it was probably because she couldn’t connect the boy she knew to the person who now preferred that name.
“With him, he would have nothing to gain by returning here,” Elliot finished. “And no interest in an estate.”
Ro paused again on the trail. “Kai?” she asked hopefully.
“He’s meeting us there,” Elliot replied, wishing it were true. But it made Ro smile. She adjusted her scarf and took off, half skipping and half running. Dee gestured to Jef to keep an eye on her, and he groaned and ran to catch up.
Elliot was pleased to see that the Reduced had already switched to their winter clothes. A few years back, when they’d lost so many Posts, no one had been assigned to the duty, and as temperatures dropped, many of the laborers had fallen ill. One even lost a foot to frostbite after it was discovered she’d been wandering around all winter in her summer sandals. Elliot made sure it had never happened again.
She’d learned a lot in four years. The mistakes she’d made at fifteen that had led to the bad time would not be repeated. The mistake she’d made this summer of not doing a better job hiding the wheat—that would never happen again either. Four years ago, she’d never have been able to cajole her father into renting out the Boatwright estate to the Fleet. Things would get better.
They had to—otherwise, what had her sacrifice been worth?
Elliot was tired of hiding from Kai, of turning down invitations to the Boatwright house for fear of seeing him. Tonight’s party would be large enough that she doubted they would be forced to cross paths. Elliot would stick close to Dee and the other North Posts, and leave Kai to spend time with the Fleet . . . or the Groves.
As they arrived, Elliot saw that the space above the lawn of the Boatwright house had been strung with paper lanterns, though the light burning inside was too white and steady for candle flame. Sun-lamps, then. How many did they have, if they were able to work by night in the shipyard and still have dozens to string up on the lawn? More lights bedecked the porch, and there were blankets and colorful cushions strewn about the lawn for seating. The arrangement brightened up the browning winter landscape and made even Elliot’s careful decorations for the North estate’s harvest feast look dim and old-fashioned. What were a few candelabras and some jugs of fall leaves to compare to a patchwork of blankets in Post-bright colors and brilliant, sun-lamp–bedecked ribbons crisscrossed against the sky?
The Groves’ wagon was parked at the perimeter, and Elliot wondered if Tatiana would regret not coming along. Her sister had said that she’d already attended the harvest festival for the North laborers, and that she’d had quite enough for one season of picnics and peasant food.
“You go if you wish,” she’d told Elliot. “I’ll attend the next time the Innovations choose to throw a dinner party or something more civilized.”
So much the better. She doubted the North Posts would be able to relax much if their mistress was present. And every North Post, from the housekeeper Mags to the youngest children, had turned out for the party. There were also more than a dozen Grove Posts milling about the cider kegs they’d brought in carts at the corners, and half a dozen more tending to a giant kettle of soup. It was a marvel to see so many Posts working in unison—it reminded her of the old days on the North estate.
Was this what it was like in the Post enclaves? Was this what it would be like everywhere in a few generations?
Felicia Innovation waved to Elliot from a cushion near the porch. She was surrounded by Olivia and Horatio Grove, both decked out in Post fashions, and Kai, who was reclining nearly in Olivia’s lap. Elliot grabbed onto Ro’s hand tightly as they approached.
“Elliot,” Felicia said. “I’m so glad you could make our little party. Who is this you’ve brought?”
“This is Ro,” Elliot said, as Ro buried her chin in her chest and drew back.
“Ro!” Felicia waved at the girl. “I am Lee. Nice to meet you.” That was the Reduced name she was born with, the one she’d mentioned to Elliot on their horse ride. Elliot thought it suited her very well. She wondered if Felicia was as strict about using her new name as Kai was.
“What a pretty scarf you have.” The woman gestured to Ro’s hair.
Ro smiled. “Kai,” she said, and pointed.
Felicia faced him. “Malakai? Do you know what she’s talking about?”
Kai shrugged. “Her hair was in her face.”
“Hmm,” was all that Felicia said.
“I’m going to see if Donovan needs anything.” Kai jumped to his feet and left.
“Oh good, now there’s space for us all.” Olivia scooted over. “Sit here, Elliot.”
Elliot sank into the spot Kai had vacated. It was still warm with his body heat. She fo
und herself staring at the swirling patterns on the thick hem of Olivia’s red skirt. He’d touched that skirt. He’d been lying with his head on her knee.
All of Elliot’s pretty words to Dee went straight out of her head. There was no point in denying it.
Kai was in love with Olivia Grove.
Fifteen
“IS RO YOUR HANDMAIDEN?” Felicia asked as Elliot caught her breath.
But she was spared from answering, as Horatio laughed. “More like her assistant. Elliot’s always working with the plants, and Ro’s a gardener herself. She’s pretty good, too, for someone Reduced.”
“Intriguing.”
“Ro and I are precisely the same age,” Elliot said, forcing herself to pay attention to the conversation instead of the massive sinkhole that had just opened in her heart. “I’ve always felt a certain degree of protectiveness over her for that reason. And yes, she is very good with flowers.”
“But Captain Wentforth really gave her that scarf?” Olivia asked in disbelief. “It’s silk—it must be.” She held out her hand toward Ro. “Let me see your scarf, girl.”
Ro put a hesitant hand to her head, and looked to Elliot for assistance.
“It’s okay, Ro. She’ll give it back.”
Ro pulled the scarf from her hair and handed it over.
“Why would he do that?” Olivia asked. “Real silk? Just handing it to some laborer?”
“You forget he’s a Post, Olivia,” said Elliot, though not as unkindly as she wished to. It wasn’t Olivia’s fault. She was a sweet girl. Kai no longer loved Elliot. She’d known that for weeks. For years, if she was completely honest with herself. “You see some laborer. He sees someone who could be his sister.”
For years, Ro had practically been his sister. Elliot had been something even more. But it was all over now.
“True,” Olivia replied, letting the material slide through her fingers. “But still . . . silk. I don’t own anything in silk.” There was no need for her to say anything more. Captain Wentforth hadn’t given her anything in silk. Elliot hated the small thrill of triumph she felt when she realized that.
And thinking this conversation had gone on long enough, she took back the scarf. “Come here, Ro. I’ll braid your hair.” Ro slid into place, and Elliot began the tedious process of finger-combing her tangled red locks.
Around them, the light began to fade, and Felicia asked Olivia if she intended to sing that evening.
Olivia blushed prettily. “I’d be quite outdone by Donovan.”
“Yes. He has a beautiful voice,” Felicia said softly.
“That’s an understatement,” Horatio said. “It’s unearthly. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
Felicia looked a bit uneasy. “It’s something truly special. I just wish he’d choose a different subject.”
Olivia’s expression turned grave to match her host’s. “Perhaps you’d accompany me to the cider kegs, Mrs. Innovation? I think I might be persuaded to sing if I can get something to drink.”
“Thank you, dear,” said Felicia. “We both seem to have lost our escorts this evening.”
“And what am I?” asked Horatio with a chuckle.
“My chaperone,” Olivia said and stuck her tongue out at him. Elliot concentrated very hard on Ro’s braid.
“Let us all go get some food and drink before the concert starts,” said Felicia. “Perhaps I can even track down my husband. Elliot, can we bring you and Ro anything?”
“Cider for me, and cider and soup for Ro, please,” Elliot said, and the Groves and Felicia departed toward the buffet tables.
Ro would love the idea of another special meal so soon. The Norths had never withheld food from their Reduced as some other Luddite lords did, but they only got special meals three times a year—midsummer, midwinter, and harvest. Elliot remembered their feast days as they’d been when her mother had been alive—they’d decorated and everyone had cooked for days. The Reduced had gorged themselves on sweets and pies and food they never saw the rest of the year. They’d burned lanterns and bonfires, and everyone had slept late and ignored their chores the following day.
Since the bad time, the feast days had turned into perfunctory affairs—the Reduced were given extra food, but with none of the pomp and circumstance that had come before. Their most recent harvest feast had been more lavish than others, given the Fleet money, but Elliot still hadn’t had the courage to include more than extra food and a few meager decorations. The bad time was too recent a memory to risk it, even with her father out of town.
At least this party was thrown by the Cloud Fleet on the Boatwright estate. It would be difficult for her father to find fault with it here.
“There,” she said to Ro, tying the scarf in a knot around the end of her braid. “Done.”
Ro tossed her head, admiring the part of the braid she could see, then scampered off to show her new hair to some of the North Posts who’d been gathering on the blankets nearby. Elliot laughed, watching her descend upon Dee and Jef.
“Pretty girl,” said a voice from above. Elliot looked up to see Andromeda balancing some mugs and bowls. “Is she your pet?”
“No,” Elliot snapped. “She’s not my pet, and she’s not my handmaiden, either. Ro is my friend.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Andromeda said, kneeling beside her and handing over her food. “I’ve been sent by Felicia to bring you dinner.”
If Andromeda hated her so much, why did she always come around? At least Kai had the decency to avoid her. “I don’t care how difficult you find it to believe, Miss Phoenix. It’s the truth.” She shut her mouth before everything else she wanted to say came pouring out. That Kai could vouch for Elliot, that Andromeda should not assume all Luddites were the same—was she so unfair to the Groves?—and that regardless of either, it was none of her business. Ro and Elliot’s relationship belonged to no one but them.
Andromeda regarded her for a long moment, staring until Elliot was forced to turn away from the penetrating look in the Post’s crystal blue eyes. “Do you think it’s dangerous for us to give a concert on your lands, Miss Elliot? I know what your family likes to do to musical instruments.”
Another line of attack, because she wasn’t getting so far with her first? “You rent this land,” Elliot said. “You may do as you wish.” She turned her attention to her cider. If Andromeda Phoenix was determined to be rude, she would steal a card from Kai’s playbook and ignore her presence.
But Andromeda made no move to leave, and the others did not return to the cushions. As the night turned cold and violet around them, the musicians began to play a slow, mournful melody underscored by a drum that sounded like a beating heart.
“Oh no,” Andromeda said softly. She looked about the crowd. “Do you see Felicia anywhere?”
Elliot shook her head.
“There’s no talking to him,” Andromeda went on. “He insists on singing it, even when she’s here to listen . . .”
“Who?” But Elliot needn’t have asked, as Donovan climbed the porch steps and began to sing.
My eyes open to the sun
The brightness of a brand new world
The wave of our tomorrow breaks
Beneath our ships, our sails unfurled.
And yet a streak of darkness
Swirls throughout this cloudless dawn
And even my eyes cannot see
Into the place where you have gone.
So I don’t want to see anything now
Not the sun or the sky or the distant shore
I don’t want to see anything new
Because I can’t see you anymore.
Your sightless eyes could always see
To distances I could not reach
Without you I am truly blind
You’ve fled to shores I cannot breach.
You were the lantern in my heart
You were the first star in my sky
As far as I could ever roam
You were th
e light that showed me home.
And I don’t want to see anything now
I am lost inside our yesterday
I don’t want to see anything new
Now that you are gone away.
Sixteen
A HUSH FELL OVER the crowd as Donovan’s deep, clear voice faded into the gathering darkness. Elliot surveyed the lawn. Even Ro, still engaged with a few of the North Posts, looked subdued. She’d never heard a voice like that in her life. His lyrics might break your heart, but it was the pain evident in every note he sang that would grind all the shards into irredeemable dust.
Elliot turned to Andromeda in shock and under-standing. Now she knew why Donovan had been so cowed by Felicia’s lecture in the sanctuary. “He’s singing about Felicia’s daughter, isn’t he?”
Andromeda sighed. “Yes. Sophia Innovation died six months ago. She was sixteen. It has been hard on the admiral and on Felicia, but most of all on my brother.”
That much was clear to every person in attendance. Donovan walked off the porch steps, and nearby Elliot caught sight of Horatio wildly gesturing to his sister, who looked near tears. Eventually Olivia took the stage and began to sing an old folk tune. The spell over the attendees broke at the more familiar sound, and a few even began to clap along.
“I am so sorry for their loss,” Elliot said to Andromeda.
“All our loss. Sophia was . . . special. I don’t expect you can imagine it.”
No, Elliot was sure Andromeda wouldn’t expect that.
“She was the first free Post I’d ever met,” said Andromeda.
“You must have known her a long time.”
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