Horatio cleared his throat and addressed Elliot and Kai. “Should we, er, leave them to this?”
Elliot was appalled. Why was Andromeda dragging them all into this? If Donovan planned to quit the Cloud Fleet, why bring Felicia to talk him out of it, rather than the admiral? She looked to Kai for clarification. But he was standing as close to the door as possible, and seemed to be searching for escape routes himself.
But then Felicia spoke. “No, Andromeda. Donovan is right. You’re being cruel. This was an ambush, and frankly, I’m surprised.” She turned to Donovan, and her voice grew tight. “You may do as you like, son. I’m going to bed.”
Olivia raised her good arm off the cushions. “Mrs. Innovation. Please. You have been so good to me. I owe you so much, and it would kill me to think I have hurt you . . .”
All at once, Elliot understood. Some stupid Luddite. All those weeks of daily music lessons. Donovan didn’t want to go on their latest expedition. He wanted to stay on the estate. The Grove estate. With Olivia.
She looked to Kai again, to find he had retreated even more into the shadows of the foyer. She wondered how long he’d known that Olivia had transferred her affections to Donovan. Was that why he’d been refusing to attend her music lessons? She wondered if he was hurt, if he hated Olivia now, the way he’d hated Elliot for so long.
And of course it would hurt Felicia to discover that her daughter’s great love had moved on. The Innovations both still mourned Sophia, and she knew they took pride in the fact that Donovan seemed to, too.
Felicia gave a deep sigh and addressed Donovan. “You are a young man. You loved my daughter. My daughter is dead. How foolish it would be of me to expect you to never love again. Above all else, I want you to have the happiness I couldn’t give to Sophia.”
Andromeda stamped her foot. “That’s it? You’re just going to let him go like that? Felicia, help me!”
Felicia shook her head sadly. “Andromeda, he is not indentured to me. He owes me nothing. You of all people should understand that.” She turned to leave and Andromeda rushed after her.
Kai put out his arm to block her path. “Let her go, Andromeda. Don’t you think you hurt her enough? She didn’t need to find out now. She didn’t need to find out this way.”
“I can’t lose him!” the older girl sobbed, low enough that even Elliot, who was closest, could hardly hear her. “I can’t leave him to them.”
Kai gave her a pitying look. “They aren’t all bad.”
“You would say that, Malakai. You’ve loved one all your life.” She shoved past him and out of the room. He shook his head, and then his eyes met Elliot’s.
The world stopped spinning. She’d heard. He knew she’d heard. Every atom in the universe seemed to coalesce into a point in the space between them.
I don’t want to talk about Olivia right now.
Somewhere, Horatio was calling to her, asking her something about apples. Or maybe aphids.
This is all a nightmare.
Elliot only had eyes for Kai. They could stand here forever, it seemed. Not moving, not blinking, not breathing if that’s what it took to plant this moment into reality. She didn’t care that Olivia and Donovan were holding tight to each other for comfort, that Andromeda had run off to cry, that Horatio was chattering about plants as if he could somehow bring the level of discourse in the room back to the mundane, that the sun was shining or the seeds were sprouting or that the ship lay in the harbor waiting for Kai to sail away on it.
There are things I need to make you understand.
Kai had never loved Olivia Grove. He’d loved Elliot—he’d loved her—all his life.
“And I’m worried,” Horatio was saying, “that if they spread, we might lose as much as half the crop . . . Elliot?” He brought down a meaty hand in front of her eyes. “Did you hear me? Have you seen any on your seedlings this spring?”
The estates. Right. The estates, and the people she was still responsible for. The people she would always be responsible for, whether Kai loved her or not.
They stared at each other and then, at last, Kai closed his eyes and nodded his head, just once.
The estates would always win.
ON THE DAY OF the launch, Elliot stayed out in the fields all day. If she saw no one, then no one could talk her into attending. No one could force her to watch Kai sail away from her. Everyone else was going: Horatio, Olivia, and Donovan; all the North, Boatwright, and Grove Posts; and dozens more Posts who’d shown up in the last few days from Channel City with sun-carts and tents, prepared to camp out and celebrate the launch. Even her father and Tatiana were going, to keep up appearances. Dee had promised Elliot she’d take Ro to the launch. She’d called Elliot a fool, but hadn’t argued.
Baroness Channel had come too, and had extended an invitation to Elliot to spend the summer at her estate in Channel City. Elliot was seriously considering accepting. She was bored stiff these days, and once the Cloud Fleet was gone, she’d be in dire need of the kind of distractions a vacation in a city—her first ever—might provide.
When the sun finally dipped close to the horizon, she figured she should go inside. If she could see the sky, she’d know the precise minute he left her lands. But if she went to the house, she risked running into Dee, who was still staying in the nursery with baby Li. She’d risk losing all her nerve. So instead she stopped by the North barn, under pretense that she should make sure the dairymaids were keeping to their schedule. It was no longer her responsibility—not strictly, but old habits died hard.
All old habits. As she passed over the threshold, she almost laughed. At last, she’d gotten her wish. If she wanted to, she’d never have to set foot in this barn again, and she’d be freed from the tyranny of that knothole. But, as always, she looked anyway, and stopped dead.
Tucked inside lay a tiny white paper glider.
NOW
Dear Elliot,
I can wait in silence no longer, but I’m afraid I’m already too late. I am trapped between agony and hope—believing I have no right to speak, but knowing more how much I’d regret it if I did not. Tell me I’m not wrong. Tell me that, this time, you will accept my offer. Because I’m making it again. I want you with me, Elliot. It’s all I have ever wanted. I offer you everything I have—my world, my ship, my self—perhaps they will be enough to replace what I know you would be giving up if you came with me.
Come with me.
I know what you owe the estates. I know how many depend on you, and I know I’ve no right to want you for my own. Come with me, Elliot, and I promise I’ll bring you home in time for harvest. I’ll be happy to shorten my mission if I know I’ll spend every day of it with you by my side.
I have loved no one but you for these four years. For all my years. I have been cruel to you. I have been unfair to you. But I have not been inconstant. I was so angry because I loved you so much. I want to believe that you still feel something for me, too, that I am mistaken in fearing you don’t, the way everyone—including you—was mistaken thinking that Olivia Grove ever meant anything to me. You can’t imagine the relief I felt when I learned she’d come to care for Donovan—and I couldn’t tell anyone. I didn’t deserve to.
I was foolish, and I know now that I paid attention to her because it bothered you, but it was the wrong thing to do—I toyed with her, and when she was hurt, I felt responsible for her injuries, and then, later, responsible for being the person that she and everyone else seemed to think I was. I wore that responsibility like a badge, but it wasn’t my true self.
I believe, though it may be false, that you feel the same. You have fought so hard for your land, for the people on it, that you have forgotten a time when you ever wanted to be anything but a Luddite lord. But I remember a girl who stood on the cliffs with me, who studied star charts and who dreamed of ships. Regardless of anything else, I want you to know that she still lives. Even if you never set foot off this estate again, you are the bravest girl I’ve ever known. If you ever
trusted me, trust me in this.
But I hope for more. Come with me, Elliot. I have wanted to ask you for weeks, but I have waited, out of fear and doubt and the belief that it’s nothing but my own selfishness that wants you with me. I wrestled with this, and chance after chance passed me by. I can’t afford to lose this one.
Please accept. This time, please accept.
And please believe that no matter what, I am, ever,
Your
Kai
Forty-three
THE DARK SERENITY OF the barn had always soothed her, even when Elliot had been at her worst, but the effects of this letter were too much to bear. No lowing cows, no smell of hay, no soft strokes of Nero’s tail across her ankles would give Elliot tranquillity as she scanned the words over and over. Kai’s familiar pen strokes hadn’t changed with age, and they formed words that wrapped around her heart like a vine and held tight.
There was no date on the letter. She had no idea if he’d written it four minutes ago or four days. All this time, she’d been waiting for word from him—and here it was. How long had he been waiting for an answer from her? He knew how often she went in the barn, he’d seen how she always looked for his letters. Had he assumed she’d been ignoring him?
But one thought soon crowded out all the others:
Yes.
They were about to launch. She had to get word to him that she accepted. She had to tell the Posts she was going much farther away than Channel City. She had to take her leave of Ro—Ro. If she hurried back to the house, she might still catch her and Dee.
Elliot ran from the barn to the North house. Ro was already waiting patiently by the door for her ride.
“El!” Ro cried happily when she saw Elliot. But then her face turned grim. “El . . . Kai . . .” She frowned and pushed away. “Go.”
“Yes,” said Elliot. “Kai’s leaving. And this time, so are we. Pack your favorite seeds, Ro, and don’t forget your scarf.”
Ro looked at her in confusion.
“I said pack!” Elliot shouted and twirled around. “We’re going on a picnic, just like we used to. But this one will last forever!”
Ro’s eyes were wide, and she made the sign for tomorrow.
“Yes!” Elliot grabbed the girl’s hands and spun her around in a circle. “For all of our tomorrows!”
Or at least until harvest, as Kai had promised.
It took minutes to pack Ro’s meager belongings, and then she grabbed the girl’s hand and half dragged her back to Elliot’s room to pack a bag for herself.
Elliot was soaring higher than any paper glider had ever dared. Kai wanted her, and this time she was going to go.
At the door to the house, she saw Dee pulling up in the Boatwright estate’s new sun-cart, a parting gift from Felicia.
“Elliot, have you changed your mind?”
Elliot shoved her hair behind her ears and beckoned to Ro. “Have I!”
Elliot lobbed her bag into the cart, then climbed in behind it. Ro did the same.
“What’s that for?” Dee asked in suspicion.
Elliot only laughed. “You need to stop by the Boatwright house.” Dee didn’t move. “Drive!”
Dee did not drive. “Elliot, have you gone mad? What’s in the bag?”
The future. She giggled. “Drive, Dee, or I might burst.”
“What’s going on?” Dee asked again as soon as they were on the road. She drove slowly, carefully compared to the Posts, and the headlamps of the cart illuminated the rocky road before them.
“I’m leaving,” Elliot sang. “Think you can manage without me?”
“To Channel City with the Baroness? Good. You deserve a bit of a break.”
“No. I’m leaving on the ship. Tonight.”
“What?” Dee blurted. “Elliot, you’ve just planted your wheat. And you promised Tatiana and your father that you’d take care of their estate.”
“I have taken care of the estate,” said Elliot. “Look at it!” She spread her arms wide. As far as the eye could see, shoots burst through the well-tilled soil. They’d have a record harvest. More Posts were coming to the estate every month, happy to work and eager to take part in either the farming or the shipbuilding ventures on the land. “You don’t need me to run the estate, Dee. You know what to do. Be fair to the workers. Water the crops. We’ll be back in time for the harvest.”
“And if the boat sinks?”
“And if the sun explodes?” Elliot countered.
They arrived at the Boatwright house. It was dark and empty as everyone had already headed toward the docks to see the launch. Elliot rushed inside. She didn’t have Kai’s night vision, but it didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. She yanked the compass off the wall and sprinted back to the sun-cart.
“This is about Kai, isn’t it?” Dee cried when she saw the compass. “Elliot, wait a moment. Let’s think this through. Can you really leave?”
“Yes, I can,” she replied. “This time I can. I’ve thought about it. Everything is running so smoothly now. If I stay, I’ll die. I’d just watch the plants grow and hate myself. I was raised to work, not to be an idle Luddite lord. And that’s what I’ve been, ever since all the Posts have come back. Think about it, Dee. How much time have I spent cuddling your baby? How much time have I spent sitting in the house reading books and playing with Ro’s flower pots? Some of the Luddites go to resorts in the south and spend all summer swimming around in thermal pools. You yourself said I should visit the city. We’re not needed. I’m not needed. The shipyard has been rented for the season, and Donovan told me he’d help oversee it, so I’m not needed there. And Tatiana won’t care what’s happening on the North farm as long as she and Father get their money. I’m going to do this. I have to, Dee. I have to take this chance.”
The older woman furrowed her brow but didn’t disagree. “And Kai, he knows?”
“He asked.”
But Dee still looked skeptical. “Elliot, I know how you feel about him, but don’t be hasty. It’s not a pleasure cruise they’re on. They’re all going to be working hard. You’re a farmer,” Dee said. “What will you do on a Fleet ship?”
“Anything I want to!” Elliot threw her arms wide, feeling the wind slapping against her skin as they drove toward the beach. For once, she believed it. She could smell the sea in the air, but more than that, she could smell the scent of the grass as it awoke from its winter slumber. She could hear the sound of crickets as they sang to the emerging stars. It was springtime on the North Island. It was springtime for the world.
Ro squealed with delight and copied her.
“I’m not a farmer, Dee,” Elliot went on. “I tried to be, for the estate, but you’re a much better farmer than me. I made the wheat, but you’re the one growing it.”
Dee was silent for a moment, considering this. “Well, that’s true.”
“And Donovan Phoenix is a better shipbuilder than me. And Horatio Grove can help you get a better deal at the market. If you can name one thing I’d be better at doing than someone else here, I’d like to hear it.”
“You give us hope, Elliot,” she said. “Because of you, I believed that the North estate was a place worth saving. Because of what you’ve done here, I believe that the world will change, that my children can grow up to be whatever they want.”
Elliot dropped her arms and looked at her friend. “Oh, Dee. . . .”
“But,” the Post continued, and smiled. “I suppose that’s a mission accomplished. So let’s get you to that ship.”
They started down the path to the bay. There, on the beach, sat the buildings of the shipyard, little more than shadows against the pale sand. The sun-lamps burned down on Fleet workers bustling around the docks, loading crates and sun-carts and golden-finned machines Elliot had no name for on board the ship. It was massive—bigger than any vessel Elliot had ever seen. It floated gently by the dock that jutted out into the sea, illuminated from prow to stern by sun-lamps. Giant sun-sails lay furled agai
nst its masts.
“Ooh,” said Ro, but they all three were thinking it.
As they descended the slope toward the beach, Elliot could make out the name of the ship, painted on the side in glittering gold: Argos. She caught her breath. The sun-cart’s tires crunched in the shells along the path to the shore, and the workers looked up as they passed. Finally, they drew up to the end of the docks. Elliot jumped out of her seat before Dee had the chance to fully stop and scanned the area. Where was he? Where was he?
Just then, he emerged from one of the entrance ramps, saw her, and froze. That’s all it took—a single look—and he knew.
Elliot smiled at him.
He smiled at her.
And then they were running. Her shoes smacked hard against the boards of the dock, which swayed a bit beneath her feet but didn’t slow her down. And Kai’s strides were long and sure, buoyed by his enhancements but more by something else entirely.
They met. They touched. And then she was in his arms, again and at last.
“You got my letter,” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded. “I always have.” She looked into his eyes. “This morning, I thought I was dead. I thought I was dead every morning since you went away.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “This time, with everything you’re giving up?”
“I’m not giving up anything,” Elliot said. “The estate will be fine. Horatio and Olivia and Donovan and Dee and Gill and all the rest will make sure of that. And we’ll be back for harvest, like you said.”
“Yes,” Kai said, in a breath filled with relief and joy. “For you, I’ll do anything.”
Elliot leaned back, still holding tight to Kai’s hands. She never wanted to let go. “The world has changed, Kai. We’ve changed it, these four years. Imagine what we might do in four more.”
Ro had caught up to them by this point. She was dragging both of their bags. The rest of the Cloud Fleet had come to the deck of the ship to see what all the commotion was about. They looked down at Elliot, Kai, and Ro. Elliot shaded her face from the sun and waved at them.
For Darkness Shows the Stars Page 28
