by Alexa Donne
So I explained the whole sad saga as he walked me back to my apartment, and I once again thanked my lucky stars that he had found me. For all my talk of needing friends, Daniel was proving to be a very good one. Now if only I could convince myself to fall in love with him.
Twenty-Four
Love did not sprout and bloom over the next week, though not for lack of trying. Most formal Valg events ceased in the run-up to the engagement ball, likely on the assumption that most people had already paired off and were fine to plan their own private dates. Daniel and I went on our own fair share of them, from a night of dancing at the Scandi Club to a romantic stroll on the upper-deck promenade, a private concert where he showed off his cellist chops, even a day at the library, poring over historical artifacts together. I liked his taste, and we always had a good time together.
My sister, too, seemed to have a full social calendar, not that she shared it or any details with me. I got that she was upset with me, but her persistent silent treatment was frustrating. Most of all, I missed her. I tried not to dwell on it, focusing instead on manufacturing my own enthusiasm for my whirlwind romance with Daniel. If you could call it that. I felt like we were building this amazing friendship, but despite yelling at my traitorous heart to skip a beat when he smiled at me, to thump heavy in my chest when he took my hand, it didn’t. I grasped for the memory of what it had been like to fall in love with Elliot. Had it happened this slowly? I simply couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t swoon for him.
Then again, I reminded myself that most Valg matches weren’t based on love. So it was fine that I didn’t love Daniel. Right?
My father was pleased as punch, regardless. I grew in his esteem with every date, the condition of his affection finally met. I was less than half a week away from securing a wealthy husband and would be saving our family from ruin. Yet I burned with the feeling of failure. Again and again my thoughts returned to my filtration system, the too-expensive patent left unfiled, my chance to save my family through my own ingenuity dashed. After everything that had happened with Elliot and Ben, I wasn’t surprised at all not to hear from the Lady Liberty about their licensing my design. Ben likely never even told them about it. I was left to be nothing but a sparkling doily, festooned in silly gowns and laughing on cue to win a man’s favor. Though that was being unfair to Daniel, who never treated me like anything other than an equal.
Finally, with four nights until the ball, Daniel had planned a romantic candlelit dinner for two in his vacation suite. He’d ordered in catering, as finally I discovered his sole weakness: he couldn’t cook. Still, he banished the wait staff and insisted on serving me himself. I had a horrible feeling I knew what this was leading up to. Was I ready?
I lost myself to the question as the dessert course rolled around, swirling my spoon idly around the rim of my ice cream bowl. Daniel missed nothing.
“Are you okay?”
I stopped, blinking him into focus as I grasped for a good excuse. My questioning the whole progression of our relationship didn’t seem like a good dinner topic. I settled on something real, even if not the most immediately true.
“My sister still isn’t speaking to me. I’m wondering how long this is going to last.”
“As long as first-love heartache can last, I suppose.”
So, years? No, Carina wasn’t like me, and she barely knew Ben. Elliot and I were a terrible blueprint for young love. I caught Daniel peering at me with some consideration. I sensed he knew exactly what I was thinking about.
“Was it the guy at the political dinner? For you, I mean.”
I nodded. “But I knew him far longer than Carina knew this guy. She didn’t love him. Couldn’t have.”
“I’ve never been in love,” he said matter-of-factly. No teasing to his tone, no twinkle in his eye. He was completely serious.
“Is this the part where you quip ‘until now,’ and I’m supposed to swoon?”
“No. I like you too much to lie to you. That’s not what this is.”
His candor shocked me into silence. Daniel went on, hardly missing a beat.
“I like you a lot, and I think that we’re friends, no? You need to marry me for my wealth, and I need to marry you for . . .” He hesitated. “I’ve never actually told anyone about this before. It’s hard to get the words out.”
“You want my title,” I supplied with a slight edge of bitterness. He laughed.
“Your title, and your access to political power . . . yes. That’s what my parents want, especially. And, well, grandchildren.”
“I don’t have any political power,” I said. “You’d have to marry Klara for that.”
Daniel shook his head. “No, you could run for captain of this ship if you wanted to. You’d be better suited to it than your aunt, certainly. You have a heart.”
“Thanks?”
“This is all coming out wrong.” He blew out a long, steady breath. “I don’t mean for this to sound like a business arrangement, but I thought we were on the same page—we talked about your title and my wealth at the picnic. Cards on the table. I knew you needed to marry for money, which I have, and I want to get into politics, which you can help with. It’s how things are done in our circles.”
“I did know,” I said quietly, hating myself for feeling disappointed. What a hypocrite I was.
“That was the reason I approached you initially, Leo. But it’s not the reason I stayed, the reason I finally messaged my parents the good news. I want to marry you, you have to know. I know this is the world’s worst and least romantic proposal. I don’t want to marry you because of your title, or my political ambitions. Those are bugs, not features.”
“What do you mean?”
Nervous laugher bubbled out of him, and he avoided looking me in the eyes. “God, why is it so hard to say? This is why all my relationships end, quickly and messily. I’m a coward. But you’re so perfect, Leo. You’re in love with someone else, and so you won’t be upset that I won’t fall in love with you.”
I moved to deny it, but he shot me a look.
“It’s okay; I don’t mind. I’m—” He took a huge breath, screwed his eyes shut, and then said, rapidly and rushed together. “Imasexual.”
“You’re . . . asexual?” I repeated back, breaking up the words. Then relief flooded me. I had worried he found me hideous, or too intense and forward to ever love. Then I blurted: “But you’re such a spectacular flirt!”
“Asexual people can be flirts,” Daniel shot back, as playfully as ever. “And they can be charming, witty. A fantastic catch, if I do say so myself.”
He was joking again, so he had to be fine.
“Daniel, why didn’t you just tell me sooner?”
“Did you miss the whole ‘literally never said this out loud before’ thing?”
“Well, I’m honored to be the first person to hear it, then.” I mulled everything over in this new context. “Is that why you’re such a perfect gentleman, and you’ve never tried to kiss me?”
“Kissing is kind of awful,” he said, making me laugh. With anyone but Elliot, yes, I had to agree.
“So, um, is that a yes? That you’ll marry me?”
Oh, God, this was actually real. My second marriage proposal, and I felt . . . numb. And relieved. And disappointed. Everything a girl dreams of. A laugh bubbled up from my chest, and Daniel reeled back as if struck.
“No, no, I’m not laughing at you!” I jumped to reassure him. “I’m laughing at me.” With one giant gulp, I finished my wine, then promptly poured myself another. I wiggled the bottle at Daniel, and he accepted a top-off himself. “So let’s talk this through. You get my title and political positioning, I get your money, and we’re friends.”
“If you’re okay with that, yes. There are all kinds of ace partnerships, so we can play it by ear. This fleet is pretty myopic when it comes to relationships, marriage, and children, so there will need to be grandchildren, and we’ll have to keep a lot of this to ourselves. We can figure
that out later.” Daniel took a deep drag of wine. “Did you know that back in the day on Earth, tons of people were childless by choice? Sounds amazing.”
“You don’t have to have kids,” I said. “I would never make you . . . you know. With me.”
“But you want kids, don’t you?”
I did want children. With Elliot. I barely suppressed a groan and instead took a drink. I was too sober for this question.
“I’m the heir to the Kolburg title,” I said. “As you said, having babies is compulsory.”
“Some days, I hate this place,” Daniel muttered, idly drawing patterns on the tablecloth with his fingers. While he wallowed, I considered him seriously.
Daniel was kind, clever, funny. He could keep up with me, never made me feel uncomfortable. And he was totally honest. Had been from the beginning, really. I could trust him. I’d lost that trust, that faith, in the last person I loved. Daniel would never do that to me, I was certain.
“You were right, Daniel,” I said, coming to a decision. “We do make a good pair, and if I’m honest, I’m glad you singled me out. I have to get married to save my family. And you’re a good person. So yes, I will marry you.”
I finished my wine and hoped I wouldn’t regret the decision.
Twenty-Five
For the second time, I was secretly engaged to be married. This time, however, I kept my father in horrible suspense for a laugh rather than out of fear. Daniel flew back to the Empire to tell his parents the news and make some arrangements, and each successive day he didn’t come back to take me on a date, Father unraveled just a bit more.
“What did you do, Leo?” he whined on the third consecutive day without Daniel, one day before the Valg Ball was to take place. “Were you yourself with him? Did you scare him off?”
“Don’t be silly.” I waved him off. “He’s running a few errands and will be back tomorrow. We’ll see what happens.”
“But then he is your date for the ball?” Father perked up.
“As far as I know,” I managed with careful nonchalance. Father stress-ate a pain au chocolat. Captain Lind had specially shipped in a bevy of pastries from the Versailles for the occasion of the Valg Ball, and Father had insisted I secret away half a dozen of them for our personal enjoyment. The act brought me closer to Elliot than I liked, but I did it to avoid my father’s petulance. Besides, technically I was allowed access to the royal stores; it wasn’t stealing, not really.
I delighted in watching my father stew. I was going to make him wait until the formal announcement ceremony. It was my little line in the sand.
Looking distinctly as though he regretted the pastry, Father frowned in the direction of Carina’s empty seat. “Now, what about Carina?”
“What about her?”
“Does she have a date for the Valg Ball?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“She’s never home anymore,” Father sniffed.
I sighed. “She’s still only sixteen. She’ll have another Season. Twenty-one isn’t quite as spinsterly as twenty-four, after all.” I couldn’t help the sarcasm that dripped from my tone. Father didn’t scold me for it, nevertheless. He was oddly contemplative.
“I just want her to be happy,” he said, and I could have wrung his neck. Carina got to be happy. I got to be useful.
No, that wasn’t fair, not the way things had shaken out. Daniel was a really good option for me. I would be happy with him. And it was funny how I missed him with just a few days of separation. It was lonely with him gone, given that my social world had narrowed considerably to essentially just him and Evgenia, without my sister and cousin to spend time with. Maybe that’s where Carina had disappeared to these past weeks, holding court in the We Hate Leo Club, though Klara’s reasons to hold a grudge were essentially nil. Having cut myself off from Elliot completely, I’d left Klara to him. She should be throwing me a parade.
The thought turned my taste sour, putting me off breakfast completely.
“I’m going for a walk,” I announced.
“Are you going to see if Daniel is back?” Father perked up.
I did not dignify the question with an answer. I left him sputtering into his coffee and headed out, hesitating briefly before the stairs. The top-deck promenade was the natural place to take a walk, but it meant risking running into Klara on her morning jaunt. Instead, I pressed my finger to the bio-lock access panel for the royal private public quarters. No sooner had I ducked through a shadowy door into the Andersson Lounge than I was almost mowed down by a pair of servants carrying a chaise longue past.
“Oh, sorry!” I exclaimed, burning under their chastising glares. Indeed, the whole salon was abustle with activity, servants moving furniture, dusting curtains, setting up tables that soon would overflow with food. Setup for the Valg Ball was in full swing. Though surely unwelcome, I pressed on, now curious to see the place in transformation. We’d not hosted a Valg Ball as long as I’d been alive and living on the Scandinavian. Our ship, the Empire, the Lady Liberty, the Nikkei, the Shanghai, and the Versailles traded off the auspicious honor, which meant this was the first Valg Ball held here in thirty years. I assumed my aunt would pull out all the stops. Nervous as I was for the big reveal of my engagement to Daniel and as much as I loathed silly society parties, I was looking forward to this one. The grandeur would likely be unmatched in my lifetime.
I passed through another lounge and then a small library, finally reaching the grand ballroom. Had it really been only four weeks since this all started? I remembered that night, when apparently Elliot had been working his connections, scheming his plot. It looked the same, but I felt so different.
Well, correction—it did not look exactly the same. With the lights all the way up and the room devoid of decor, food, and people, it was stark and eerie. My footsteps echoed loudly, parquet flooring and high, vaulted ceilings seeming to multiply my presence. Or, wait—my head snapped up to the opposite end of the room, where a pair of elaborately carved doors swung open, admitting the forward-charging form of my aunt as well as another woman and, oddly, a small child. The child, a boy, careened out of his mother’s grasp and started simulating flight around the edges of the room. I stopped short, glancing back the way I had come, calculating whether I could slip out quietly before she noticed—
“Leonie? What are you doing here?” My aunt’s tone remained bright, but I did not miss the strain underneath. She and her guest continued to close the distance between us, and I found myself taking slow but direct steps to meet them in the center of the room.
“Just going for a stroll,” I said.
“It’s not like we have a promenade deck or anything.” Captain Lind laughed, certainly more for her guest’s benefit than mine. The guest, for her part, did not laugh at my expense, which I appreciated. I took her in. She was young—certainly no more than midtwenties—and strikingly beautiful, with thick wavy dark hair and bright blue eyes, like an old movie star. She was also clearly someone very important, as best I could tell from the cut of her suit and the deference my aunt showed her. I was given no such deference, however, as my aunt pointedly declined to introduce me. Was I supposed to simply scuttle off like a naughty child?
Finally, the woman cleared her throat and offered me her hand. “I’m Miranda Fairfax, from the Lady Liberty,” she introduced herself. I tried to contain a shriek as she shook my hand—I’d finally found her! I had to say, I liked the firmness of her handshake and that she offered it in the first place. So many Americans favored hugs.
“Leonie Kolburg, of the Princessin Sofi,” I returned giddily, offering a small curtsy, besides. Old habit.
“Oh! You’re Gerhard and Celine’s girl!”
I hadn’t heard my mother’s name spoken in so long. I leaned into it, toward Miranda, wanting to feel closer to someone who had known her. “Yes!”
“They used to visit all the time, when I was much younger,” she went on. “My mother was in your parents’ Season. At first, your
dad went hard for her, but, well, in my family, we always marry for love.” Immediately her cheeks went pink and she glanced down at her feet. She needn’t have been embarrassed, though. I knew my parents had entered into a marriage of smart alliances and good sense. Most people did. She wasn’t insulting me with talk of love. If anything, it made me like her more.
“Is that your son?” I indicated the boy, who had tuckered himself out and was now sitting in a corner, examining a piece of molding.
“Yes, that’s Phillip. I do hate to bring him along on a business trip, but his father is away on the Marie Curie at present.”
“Well, it’s so great that you’re here. See, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, and was wondering—”
“Dear God, Leonie, don’t interrogate our guest!” my aunt cut me off with an exasperated and entirely pasted-on smile. “My niece is quite chatty,” she went on to explain to Miranda, as if I required such excuses.
“I don’t mind at all,” Miranda said, and I couldn’t tell where she landed in terms of my aunt scolding me. She was a politician, after all, so part of her job was to keep an even keel.
“I assume I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow night?” she asked me, lucky to have my aunt behind her so she couldn’t see the way the captain tensed her jaw as she spoke.
“Yes! I have some business I’d like to discuss with you, actually.”
Miranda quirked a brow, clearly curious what business I could have with her. Proof that that assistant of hers hadn’t passed on a single message. But now I had her here in person! “I’ll look forward to it, Leonie.”
“Oh, you can call me Leo.”
“How delightful! Like the constellation, then? I hadn’t put that together before.”
I nodded. “My sister is Carina. My mother liked naming on a theme.”
“I’ll confess to merely liking the sound of Phillip, myself.”
The boy perked up at the sound of his name and came running over.
“Mommy, I want to go in the lift again.” He tugged on Miranda’s pant leg. I credited a four-year-old for being more adventurous than I was.
