“Get him to come back here and steal you away? I’ve had no luck convincing you to leave yet.”
“And could anyone convince you to?”
“I don’t have a child to think of, Dee. You do. You’ll soon have two.” She remembered what Kai had said to her in the barn, and took a deep breath. “Do you really want them to grow up on this estate?”
Dee threw her hands in the air. “There are a hundred children on this estate who need mothers. Grown children who don’t have anyone to look after them. Little children with hungry bellies who need to know that food is going to come, winter after winter.” She cast a glance at Elliot. “Rich children who think they are going it alone.”
“I’m not a child,” said Elliot. “And if you think I am and stay, you’re as bad as Thom thinking I am and leaving. Neither of you can trust me to handle things on my own.”
“If trusting you requires abandoning you,” Dee said harshly, “then I’m happy to say that no, I don’t.”
And when Elliot wasn’t sitting at bedsides where she could do nothing to help the occupants, she worked. She rearranged the dairy, utilizing the freshly fixed machines to make the laborers’ jobs easier. She finished the maintenance on the remaining machines, surveyed the fields, and planned for the spring thaw and planting season. And, night after night, she debated with herself over whether she’d try again with her illegal wheat. They were not in as desperate straits as they’d been the previous year. They could live without her heresy. And yet, it would be a safety measure—a stopgap. Plant this wheat, and they’d have food enough for the year without having to buy from more productive neighbors. Plant it, and they might even have enough to sell.
Plant it, and admit once and for all that she held no respect for the sacrifices of her Luddite ancestors. Things had progressed far beyond a field of wheat meant to keep her people from starving. Now she was keeping deadly secrets. Now she was unable to stop herself from thinking about a boy who—even now—could be one of the Lost. Every night, she visited the barn and her gaze went, unbidden, to the knothole where they’d left their letters. She sat in the locked room, pretending to work but really reading over and over the words he’d once sent her on paper gliders.
In every letter, in every line, she saw him. He hadn’t changed—he’d only grown into the man he’d been meant to be. An explorer willing to cross the sea. A mechanic who would someday build himself the best ship on the islands. A rebel who’d always been willing to question the wisdom of the protocols. As different as he looked, Kai was still the same person. It was Elliot who’d grown unrecognizable.
The old poems said that lovers were made for each other. But that wasn’t true for Kai and Elliot. They hadn’t been made for each other at all—quite the opposite. But they’d grown together, the two of them, until they were like two trees from a single trunk, stronger together than either could have been alone.
And ever since he’d left, she’d been feeling his loss. He’d thrived without her, but Elliot—she’d just withered.
No wonder he preferred the company of Olivia, who’d never let him down. Maybe he even thought she was lying about her experiments—actually, he must. He thought she was a Luddite to the core. He’d never expect that she’d engineer a strain of wheat.
One evening, the Innovations came to dinner on an invitation from her father that Elliot thought was several months late. Nevertheless, she was glad to see them after so many weeks spent solely in the company of her family. From the beginning of the evening, the talk centered on a single topic—the horse race—and Elliot realized why her father had finally deigned to play host to the Posts. If he wanted to get the best performance possible out of his Innovation horses, he must ask the Innovations.
Admiral Innovation was more than happy to oblige Baron North, and they spent the evening chattering away about how to get the most out of the horses, and who should be the North that rode in the race. The baron had been quite the rider in his day, Tatiana was younger and skilled in the saddle herself, and Benedict possessed a great desire to celebrate his homecoming by representing the family on the course.
“Symbolically taking the reins,” he said. Baron North laughed. Tatiana tittered. Elliot sipped her tea.
“You have no desire to throw your hat in the ring, I take it, Elliot?” Felicia asked.
“Not a bit,” said Elliot. “One ride on an Innovation horse is more than enough for me.”
“I think I remember that ride more fondly than you do,” she said.
“I’m still disappointed that I didn’t get a tour of the ship that day,” said Elliot. “You must promise to show it to me before you leave. How has construction been going?” There. It was the closest she’d dared come to asking after Kai.
Admiral Innovation snorted. “It would be coming along much more quickly if we still had our chief engineer. We lost Wentforth three weeks ago when an order for sun-carts came in. Had to send him down to Channel City to retrieve them.”
Elliot gripped the handle of her mug. Kai was gone? Had been gone? For weeks? All this time, she thought he’d been tending to Olivia. All this time, she thought he’d been avoiding her, uninterested in hearing about her experiments, uninterested in exploring the fragile truce they’d come to back in Ro’s cottage. But he hadn’t been here at all.
In spite of the darkness, in spite of the cold, in spite of the hostile ground where she sat, hope bloomed in Elliot’s heart.
Thirty-two
“HOW AGGRAVATING,” BENEDICT WAS saying. “Wasn’t there anyone down in Channel City who could deliver the carts for you?”
Felicia broke in. “Malakai restores each of the carts by hand before delivering them to the purchaser. They were found in good condition, but we don’t want to risk anything but the best for our Luddite clientele.”
“Naturally,” said Baron North.
“But you’re right, young man,” said Admiral Innovation. “Very aggravating for the project. Wentforth’s the only one who knows every piece of the ship.”
“What wonderful mechanical training he must have had,” Tatiana drawled. “And what a great loss to his estate.” She rolled her eyes in Elliot’s direction.
But Elliot paid her no mind. Kai hadn’t been avoiding her. He wasn’t on the estate. Who cared about Tatiana’s potshots?
“The ship, you see,” said the admiral, becoming more animated now than he had for all the hours of tedious discussions on horseflesh, “it runs on the same principle as the carts.”
“Wentforth was lucky to find them,” Felicia said quickly, “and he studied them carefully to extrapolate the technology.” She shot her husband a glance of warning, but it was too late.
The baron sniffed disapprovingly. “I wasn’t aware that you were building a new kind of ship on my lands. Or rather, my father-in-law’s. Are you sure you’ve cleared this with the tribunal?”
“Oh, it’s not new,” said Felicia, smiling. “We’ve merely extrapolated the design of the sun-carts for something larger and ocean going. It’s no different than if Miss North here,” she nodded in Tatiana’s direction, “were to get one of her dress patterns made out of new material. Nothing wrong with that.”
Benedict grinned while Tatiana, clad in Post velvets she’d had shipped all the way from Channel City, straightened her skirts and looked away.
“At any rate,” said the admiral, clearly wishing to change the subject, “Wentforth’s been gone, and it was a hardship. Of course, he went reluctantly enough.” He chuckled.
Reluctantly! Elliot squeezed her mug in suppressed glee.
“With his sweetheart awake, it took some real convincing on my part to tear him from her bedside.”
“Did it?” Elliot blurted. “I mean—how lovely for Olivia.” She yearned for him to say something useful, maybe estimate a time for Kai’s return.
“Yes,” said the admiral. “He’s been quite glued to her side ever since he returned yesterday.”
Her hopes withered on the vine
. He was back, and he still hadn’t come. Elliot dipped her head forward, praying no one could see the disappointment etched onto her features.
The admiral nodded. “It’s wonderful to see such devotion in a teenager to a sick young woman. My captains seem particularly steadfast in this regard. I’m sure you’ve heard of my dear daughter. My Captain Phoenix—he cared for her very much, and did not let her sickliness sway him at any point.” Felicia laid her hand on his, and they exchanged a soft, sad smile. “I love him for how much he loved my Sophia. I love him as the son-in-law he never got the chance to be.”
Elliot blinked hard. They loved him because he’d risked his life to help their daughter. Of course, the risk wasn’t without its rewards. She wondered how much of Donovan’s musical talent the ERV procedure had been responsible for. Kai’s voice hadn’t changed, so perhaps Donovan’s beautiful singing was natural talent. Surely, however, his violin skills were helped along significantly by the muscular grace and finesse his enhancement conferred.
“It seems as if Malakai Wentforth has the same love for the Grove girl.”
Elliot had to agree. To fantasize otherwise would be foolish. She’d seen it with her own eyes, and it had been confirmed by everyone else she knew. Kai loved Olivia. As he should.
“Indeed,” said Tatiana, raising her eyebrows. She’d lost any pretense of respect for Kai’s relationship with Olivia now that she knew who he was. A rich Post originating from anyplace else was one thing, but a runaway North Post, parading about on these lands like a lord—that was something else entirely. “I imagine that’s a bit premature.”
It was, perhaps, the most supportive thing Elliot’s sister had ever said. Even if it was by accident. But if Tatiana was her only ally, Elliot doubted there was any possibility of mistake.
“I wonder that Horatio Grove allows it,” Tatiana added.
“Pardon?” the admiral asked.
“Captain Wentforth must be at least eighteen,” Tatiana replied smoothly, though she knew his exact birthday. “Olivia is still a child. It’s disgraceful.”
“Not by Post standards,” Felicia piped up. “But, I suppose, to each his own. For instance, the Posts are not so keen on close family relations. But it’s common enough among Luddites.” Her smile said it all. She knew Tatiana’s complaint was not with Olivia’s age, but rather with her admirer’s identity.
Later, after the Innovations had left, Tatiana let herself fume. “That Post woman forgets herself sometimes, I think.”
“What is it to you,” Elliot asked, “if she approves of a relationship between two people so unconnected to you?”
“It’s the principle of the thing!” Tatiana exclaimed. “Olivia is a Luddite. No matter how rich these Posts are, they do not have the right bloodlines.”
“And yet Mrs. Innovation implies otherwise,” Benedict said. “You heard her disparaging the Luddite practice of family intermarriage.” There was a cunning little smile playing about his lips as he addressed his two cousins. “She’s quite bold.”
“That’s the problem with Posts,” said Tatiana. “They think they’re invincible because they overcame the Reduction. It lives inside of them. There is no escaping that.” She gave a little sniff.
But what if there was? It was heresy to say it out loud, but the look on Benedict’s face reflected the thoughts that were threatening to burst out of her. The Posts had come to believe that they had escaped it—that they had overcome the genetic taint of Reduction. They believed it so thoroughly that they would even risk ERV.
“Perhaps if they didn’t think themselves so mighty,” Tatiana continued, “Olivia would never have been injured.”
She glared at Elliot, as if somehow she was responsible for anything Kai had done in the last four years.
At that moment Mags appeared in the doorway, her face pale and somber. “Miss Elliot,” she said softly, and then remembered who it was she should be addressing. “Miss North.”
Tatiana rolled her eyes. “What is it, Mags?”
“The Boatwright, miss. He’s passed.”
IT WAS VERY LATE when Elliot was finally left to her own devices. She hadn’t had a chance to do more than look upon the sheet-wrapped body of the Boatwright in the presence of her father and sister. She hadn’t had a chance to go into her own room and cry. Tatiana had squeezed out a few ladylike tears in the parlor, but Elliot was not the type to quietly weep and dab at her face with a handkerchief while the baron and Benedict looked on. She couldn’t let herself go in front of them. Just like with her mother’s death, when she did cry, it would be volcanic.
And she had to do it alone. But she never got the chance to excuse herself and go to her room. Her father didn’t seem to see why it was necessary. There were so many preparations to be made—the body needed to be moved and dressed, and adjustments had to be made for the party plans to accommodate a funeral. Elliot would have preferred to cancel, but her father wouldn’t hear of it.
“People will want to come and pay their respects to the Boatwright,” he argued. “Why not combine the events?”
He made the same argument, it seemed, whether Elliot’s grandfather was alive or dead.
At last she knew that to get any real peace, she’d have to leave the house entirely. There was only one place to go. Elliot had long ago made peace with herself over the fact that, every time things in her house became too unbearable, she needed the barn. It was no great mystery. In the barn is where she’d known almost every moment of peace, happiness, and triumph in her life. It was her secret joy, her refuge . . . and her shame. She couldn’t pass through the doors without her eyes going immediately to that little knothole as if, magically, a letter from Kai would be waiting as they used to be so many years ago. She couldn’t enter without cursing her own body’s memory.
One day she was going to get a new door put on the barn. No more knothole. No more ritual. No more pain, every time she passed through and remembered all she’d lost. But for now she just wanted to escape to the little room in the loft and rest. Rest for a moment. Forget about everything that had changed and everything that hadn’t. Lie down on the pallet that still sat on the floor, though all trace and scent of Kai had long ago been leached out of it. Look at the gliders that fluttered down from the beams—her final gift from Kai, though for all she knew, he’d left her their letters out of spite. Close her eyes and remember a time when her grandfather and her mother were here to temper things for them all. Just spend a few minutes not thinking about the estate, not being a North, not worrying about anything.
She made her way in silence across the floor of the dairy, past the machines Kai had repaired, past the stalls where the Innovation horses dozed, and headed toward the stairs that led to the loft.
Nero was waiting for her on the landing.
So was Kai.
He startled her, sitting there in the darkness, silent and unmoving even when she almost jumped out of her skin. The cat sat on his knees and he was scratching the animal’s neck. Were it not for those tiny flicks of his fingers against the fur, Kai could have been a statue. She turned up the lantern, but he didn’t blink in the sudden brightness.
Elliot composed herself, as much in response to his uncanny presence as to her raw reaction to seeing him again. “How’s Olivia?” she forced herself to ask, though her voice broke on the words.
“I don’t want to talk about Olivia right now.” He studied her. “I heard about your grandfather, Elliot. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” She stood still. His body blocked the stairs. She couldn’t push past him. She didn’t want to push past him. If she inadvertently touched him, she might dissolve. For weeks she’d waited for him. He hadn’t sent word that he’d left the estate; he hadn’t come to visit when he’d returned. And now, of all times, he came to her?
“I thought, maybe . . .”
“What?”
He waited. Took a breath. “I thought maybe you . . . needed to talk to someone.”
“You mean
like when my mother died?” The words fell like stones into the space between them. That night. That wonderful, terrible night when her mother died and her whole world had been destroyed, when she realized she loved Kai and her whole world had been created anew. Now he wanted to take that night away from her, too? Her throat began to burn, and a vise squeezed at her heart. “I think you’ll find, Malakai, that I’m a different person than I was then. I don’t need anyone. The last four years are proof of that.”
“So now when you come to the barn, it’s to be alone?”
She stiffened. “Yes.”
Kai stood and moved to the side of the stairwell so she could pass, but still she did not. He looked at the locked door to the loft, and back at Elliot. “Go ahead.”
She didn’t move. Damn him. He knew what she hid in there. He had to know. Or at least suspect. “I thought I told you to stay out of here.”
“Go ahead, Elliot. Open the door.”
She shook her head. No. If he saw she’d kept the letters, he’d know how much she still cared. She couldn’t bear for him to see, not tonight, when she’d already lost so much.
“Why?”
“I don’t owe you an answer.” Did his unnatural eyes give him X-ray vision? Could he see through the boards of the door and tell what she was hiding inside? Had Felicia given him the power of flight? Had he levitated up to the window and peered inside?
Or did he just know her so well that he could guess?
“You told me you did experiments, Elliot.” So he did believe her. “You must trust me. I came tonight because I knew you’d be here. Please, will you unlock the door now?”
It was too late for that. He might not hate her anymore, but that didn’t mean she was ready to give up all her secrets. “Go back to Olivia,” she said flatly. “She needs you more than I do.”
SIX YEARS AGO
Dear Kai,
For Darkness Shows the Stars Page 21
