by C. K. Brooke
“I can’t do it by myself,” Drew grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You know that. Who would you rather I bring? Sasha, who’ll be drowning in vodke by the time we make port?”
“Make Wolfgang go.”
“Wolfgang’s too young and romantic. He’ll drive me bonkers.”
Ludwig shut his eyes, as though concentrating to bring his words forth. “Why me?”
“Because we’ve always stuck together, you and I.” Drew cocked his head at the case his brother carried. “You can even bring your fiddle if it makes you feel any better.”
“It’s a violin.”
“Whatever.”
Ludwig rubbed his brow. “I don’t know. It’s f-far. And cold.” He turned away, resuming the garden path.
“You do know,” Drew called after his retreating back. “You know it’s bigger than both of us.” He cupped his hands over his mouth. “And you want to do it! Take the jump, man! Make me proud!”
Ludwig disappeared around a corner, and Drew sighed. He took a seat on the stone bench, watching the little pond ripple with fish. He felt around in his pocket for something to do—a cigar to smoke, a deck of cards to shuffle—when a rustling caught his ear. He removed his hand from his pocket, squinting into the hedges. “Joni?”
Tentatively, a figure unfolded from the brush and came forward. The kinky mane alone gave her away in the darkness.
“How long have you been there?”
“I just got here,” replied his sister.
Drew lifted an eyebrow.
“The whole time,” she relented.
Drew patted a spot on the bench beside him. “Sit.” Johanna smoothed her gown behind her knees as she lowered herself next to him. “So, what do you think?”
“Of Uncle Mac’s proposal? I think it’s splendid.”
“Yeah?” He fiddled with a frond of shrubbery riding up the side of the bench. “Me too.”
“What the devil happened to your face?” She leaned in, and Drew scooted away. “Heaven’s sake, Drew, who hit you?”
“The Count of Guilden,” he grumbled.
“Why?”
“A misunderstanding. He thinks I owe him money or something.”
“And do you?”
“Does it matter?” he snapped. “We’re talking about the expedition.”
His sister straightened. “Well, I’d like to go.”
He snorted.
When she fixed him a look of earnest determination, he shook his head. “Right. That’s hilarious.” He got up, ready to end the conversation. His buzz had since worn off and he thirsted for another drink, and maybe a lady or two to take for a spin.
“Why is it hilarious?” She pouted. “Because I’m a girl?”
“You are not just a girl,” he prodded her brocaded sleeve, “you’re the girl. The baby sister? Cossetted and spoiled silly since the day you were born? And this sort of journey isn’t for the fainthearted.” He strode up the path.
She was at his heels like a pesky terrier. “What if I’m more resilient than you think? I can handle oceans. And mountains.”
“You can’t handle a day without a hot bubble bath and your maids massaging balm into your precious hands. Tell me, do you even own a pair of shoes you can actually walk in?” He looked down at her feet. “Because those look like stilts of solid gold.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You underestimate me.” She marched ahead of him, the train of her gown swaying behind her like the plume of a haughty bird.
Drew tossed up his gaze, shaking off the encounter. Ludwig, he would wear down. But Johanna wasn’t going anywhere.
All was peaceful in the Royal Cemetery. Birds cheeped to one another and gentle sunlight filtered between the treetops. The soil was soft beneath Johanna’s shoes as she wandered through the grave.
Recognizing the domed roof of the stone sepulcher, she headed its way. She ducked, entering the shady gloom, and blinked to adjust her eyes to the darkness. Soon as she made out the shapes of their joint tombs, she circled her brow. The young woman knelt at her parents’ feet and laid down the armful of flowers she’d carried.
She remained silent, her head bowed. It was her first time back since her papa’s burial. She had avoided visiting for fear she might fall apart, that the memories would be too much to bear. But instead, she found only rest. And she was surprised by how soothed she felt knowing they were together.
“I’m glad I came,” she said. She was comforted that the words didn’t echo. They were safe, instantly absorbed by the stone. “I’m sorry I kept putting it off.” She rested a hand on her mother’s cold tomb. “We’re supposed to take the locomotive back to Rhys soon. But truth be told, I don’t plan on going home.”
She envisioned her mother asking, “Why not, dear?”
Johanna closed her eyes. “Because I want to go on the expedition.” She contemplated the conversation she’d overheard the previous week, on Carmen’s wedding night. The expedition was her ticket out of Jordinia—mainland Jordinia, anyway. “The North Islands are ours now. And I’m going there to have my….” Even though her parents were dead, she couldn’t finish the sentence in front of them. “I need to go far away. I’ll stow away if I have to.”
Sure, she would be in the company of one or more of her brothers. But anyone was better than Felix, who saw everything and would scrutinize her with suspicion before long; or her maids, who surrounded her every minute of the day and night. She could hide nothing from them. Up north, she could tag along with the procession, try to blend in. At least she’d be among oblivious men and all that open space to retreat to, in privacy….
Johanna pictured herself on a remote beach, tending to her birthing hour, alone. Maybe she could bring the child to her brothers and claim she’d found it, that someone had marooned it.
She hung her head, too desolate for tears. But how was this really going to work? She looked up, suddenly struck by an eerie feeling. It was as though she could feel eyes upon her, watching her.
Someone was watching her. Johanna rose and, ducking out of the sepulcher, stepped outside. The sunlight, which had seemed so gentle just minutes ago, now felt blinding. “Aunt Nina?”
The empress stood with her hands laced together, her silk cape fluttering softly in the vernal breeze. “I’m sorry.” She frowned. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Johanna shook her head. “I was just leaving.”
The empress gazed sadly at the tomb. “I miss them as well. We lost them too young, and so close together.”
“Yes, well.” Johanna focused on the ground, forbidding her eyes to well. “Papa couldn’t live without her, I s’pose. His heart was broken.” That was what Wolfgang had said, anyway. But to her, it felt more like suicide. Her father would hardly eat or move after her mother’s passing. What else had he been aiming for, if not the open arms of death?
She found her composure and walked alongside her aunt. Royal names stared up at them throughout the cemetery, etched into headstones in stately runes. Some were so old they were crumbling.
Aunt Nina paced herself up a slope in the land. “Well, Carmen has gone off to Häffstrom with her husband, and the men are back to business as usual. Have you heard about the big expedition coming up?”
Johanna wove carefully around a flowerbed, wondering which of her ancestor’s bones she trod on. “I have, actually.”
“Mmm. Felix is interviewing officers as we speak, to accompany your brothers. Andrew and Ludwig have volunteered to head the mission. Did you know?”
“So Ludwig agreed?”
A pair of guards opened the cemetery gates for them and bowed as the women passed through. “It appears so,” said the empress. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am, because if my husband thought he was going on such an excursion—” She stopped herself, and pasted on a practiced smile.
“Aunt Nina?” Johanna knew she had to speak now, before she lost her nerve. All the same, it was rather difficult to get the words out. This was how it must’ve felt to be Ludwig. “I…want to go, too.”
Her aunt’s brow knit together. “Go?”
“On the expedition. To the islands.” She spoke quickly, hoping to fit as much of her request into the moment as she could. If her aunt disapproved, the gauntlet would drop, and there would be no appeal. “Please, Your Majesty. I very much want to be part of it all.” She stopped walking to face the woman, hoping her aunt would see the plea in her eyes. “My brothers continue to write me off. But if I have your blessing, they can’t turn me away.”
The empress looked surprised but not dismayed. “I confess, I would have never guessed you’d be interested in this sort of thing. You understand the mission could take more than a year, and conditions will be less than refined? Do you really wish to spend that long a time traveling among scores of reeking, ungroomed men?”
“That doesn’t sound very different from growing up with five brothers, does it?”
The empress laughed and covered her dainty mouth. But her lined face grew more serious as she dropped her voice. “You would feel…safe?”
Johanna knew what she hinted at. “Your Majesty, every member of the Royal Guard has known me since infancy and has sworn to protect my bloodline with their lives.” She gave a tiny shrug. “I couldn’t imagine feeling safer.”
With opal-colored eyes, the empress appraised her niece. She finally bobbed her chin. “You are right.”
Johanna had to bite her tongue to keep from saying, I am?
“I think a change of scenery and some old-fashioned adventure would do you good.” She regarded Johanna with sympathy. “You’ve been through so much these last few years. More than most girls your age could even fathom.”
Johanna’s heart ached. If only you knew.
“Leaving all of this behind for a while might be just what you need. See the world, make history.” She rested a hand on Johanna’s arm, her expression worlds away. “And when it’s all said and done, perhaps you’ll return home, a woman anew.”
Johanna chewed her lip. “So you’ll—you’ll talk to Uncle Mac and my brothers?”
The corner of her aunt’s mouth hitched. “I’ll see what strings I can pull.”
“You are not going.” Andrew’s fist met the bureau decisively. Too bad it wasn’t his decision to make.
“I am.” Johanna stood steadfast among her brothers’ glares. “Empress’s orders.”
Sasha drank deeply from his flask. His doleful eyes didn’t leave the setting sun outside the window. “Johanna, they don’t want a procession of your maids and ladies-in-wait fussing and slowing them down.”
“Who said anything about ladies-in-wait?” Johanna folded her arms. “I’m not bringing any of them. It’ll just be me.”
“I don’t think you’ve gotten this through your curly head.” Drew’s tone was so condescending Johanna would’ve smacked him if she wasn’t in need of his compliance. “There will be no balls. No gowns. No one to pin up your hair in those fancy little clips.”
“Not to mention, no plumbing,” added Felix.
“No pudding.” She could hear the smile in Wolfgang’s voice; it was clear he didn’t really favor an opinion. He was only half-present, simultaneously scribbling in his notebook a sonnet he’d promised to a new paramour.
“Or gardens or pastries or shopping!” Drew’s face was severe.
“You look like a thundercloud,” Johanna commented. “The only person here who hasn’t yet spoken is Ludwig.” She turned to her brother in the corner, praying for an ally. “Vigo?”
He avoided her eyes and mumbled something only Sasha was close enough to hear.
Drew’s eyes darted between them. “What did he say?”
“He said it’s no place for a lady,” grunted Sasha.
Johanna blew out a puff of air, causing a lock of her hair to ripple. Even with Aunt Nina’s approval, this was going to be harder than she thought. “For your information, the empress requested I accompany you, to keep you men in line. Without a woman, who knows? You all might very well forget your civility and regress to brutes. You need me.”
“What for?” Drew scoffed. “It’s not as though you can cook for us.”
“Mama taught me a bit of cooking. And I can sew.”
The man smoothed his brow, groaning dramatically. At that moment, a wave of nausea passed through Johanna. Whatever fire was within her rapidly extinguished, giving way to fear of what she was up against, the secret she was hiding.
“I’ll be helping with the preparations hereon.” She steadied her voice. “Uncle Mac said we ought to leave as early as the next moon. If we wait too long, sailing conditions won’t be ideal.”
“Oh,” Drew tossed up a hand, looking affronted, “now she’s dictating to us.”
She moved to the door. “I’m going to bed now. But I want you to know, Andrew, I deserve to be there as much as any of you do.” She grasped the door handle.
“Joni.”
She looked up.
It was Ludwig, in the back of the room. “Pack warmly,” he advised her.
Ludwig still wasn’t certain how he’d come to agree to this. He wasn’t even certain if he’d ever agreed. But there he found himself among the others when the big morning came, assembled in the hall at dawn, while footmen handled their luggage.
As usual, Drew’s voice resonated loudest above the din. “Whoa, whoa. This? You think you’re bringing all of this?”
Ludwig sought the object of his complaint. It was Johanna with two cabin trunks. Drew tried to yank one by the handle. “These things have got to weigh as much as Felix. Each!”
“We’ll be gone for ages,” snapped the girl. “What were you expecting me to pack? A bindle on a stick?”
The bickering went on until they finally agreed that she would choose one and leave the other behind. After some deliberation, she made her selection. One of the guards, Abram Visigoth, lifted it with ease.
“All right there, my lord?” The tall young man grinned genially as he approached Ludwig, carrying the trunk as though it were weightless.
“Hello, Bram.”
The guards began to file out of the hall. Ludwig and Bram joined them, Drew and Johanna in their wake.
“I’m looking forward to this.” Bram waved to the guards who would remain in Pierma. “Something different from palace life. Anything could happen out there, you know?”
“You say that…like it’s,” Ludwig swallowed, “a good thing.”
Bram grinned as though he’d made a joke. The guard left his side to rejoin his fellows, who were helping the footmen load the cargo wagons.
Ludwig and his siblings were seen into the first carriage. Behind them, the guardsmen packed into carriages of their own. Under the dreary sunrise they departed the palace grounds, calling farewell to the emperor and his men, the former standing on his sprawling lawn, looking wistful.
The ride to the railway station was brief. As they cut through the city, the citizens made way for the royal carriages, many circling their brows and genuflecting respectfully. Upon arrival, they were surrounded by guards in every direction. The steam train whistled and smoked like a colossal, wheeled tea kettle.
Despite their feelings about her company, Drew and Ludwig flanked their younger sister. Johanna kept her head down, which she’d covered in a gray scarf that morning. Ludwig watched her from the corner of his eye. Something about her seemed different, but he couldn’t figure what.
He boarded the locomotive with his siblings, followed by the dozen soldiers and guards who’d volunteered to accompany them. Porters in uniform handled the cargo at the luggage car, and a steward guided the Cosmiths and their entourage to a private car.
There were ample chairs
and benches for their party, with bowls of fresh fruit on the tables and flower pots hanging from the papered walls and over the curtained windows. Ludwig stopped to admire the plants while Drew barreled through, barely noticing anything. He tugged off his traveling cloak and handed it to the nearest steward. “Does anyone know when tea is served?”
“We just had breakfast,” said Johanna.
“And after breakfast,” Drew gave her an irritated look, “comes tea.”
“Not for long,” Ludwig reminded him. He assumed a cushy seat by the window and rested his violin case between his knees.
The guards filled the car. When the doors finally closed and the train shrieked its parting whistle, all twelve stood at attention, awaiting commands.
“Stand down,” Drew told them. “As a matter of fact, sit down. We’re in for a long journey together, and I’ll not have you all wound up like toy soldiers.”
A few men exchanged glances. Ludwig watched his brother warily.
“I’m serious.” Drew waved a hand. “Loosen up! I know you’ve trained your whole lives to stand on guard and take orders, but that’s not what this journey’s about. You’re pioneers now, as much as I.” He paced up the line of them, like a drill sergeant addressing his men. “As such, I want you to voice your thoughts. Call out what you see.
“If anyone has an idea, speak up. If something seems wrong to you, by all means, correct it. No need to ask my brother or me for permission. And please, for the love of the angels, no ‘Lord Cosmith.’ I hear ‘Lord Cosmith’ and I look around in horror, thinking my father has risen from the dead to haunt me with his disapproval.”
At his irreverence, some of the guards snickered. Ludwig wished they wouldn’t. Laughter only encouraged his brother.
“As for my kid sister, I trust you’ll all ignore her,” Drew drawled. “I’m sure she’ll have a change of heart before we make it to port; in which case, she can take the train home.”
