by C. K. Brooke
“Watch it, Drew,” quipped Johanna, earning an appreciative glance from Bram.
“Now,” Drew extracted a leaf of parchment from his pocket and unfolded it, “it’ll be a three-day ride from here to Greygørn. From there, approximately two weeks by steamship to the first island. I’m electing myself captain and if no one disagrees….”
One of the guards, a blond fellow called Rylon, lifted a hand. “How long is the stopover in Greygørn, sir?”
Drew hardly looked at him. “Stopover? What stopover? We depart the locomotive and immediately board the H.M.S. Kelti. Drew Cosmith waits for no one. Other questions?”
More guards spoke up, the tension among them cracking. Ludwig leaned back. Andrew had taken control of the atmosphere and bent it to his will, as always. There was nothing left for Ludwig to do.
He eyed his case with longing. His fingers itched to play his instrument before anyone might try to talk to him. He settled for closing his eyes, practicing a new riff in his head. It was almost as good as disappearing.
If only he could.
She had survived the loo. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience aboard a locomotive, but at least there was one. Johanna wove her way back up the cramped hall, struggling to keep her balance. She couldn’t tell which was more responsible for her nausea—the jostling train or her delicate condition.
Returning to her car, she nearly bumped into an officer. She took a step back, recognizing with dread who it was.
“Pardon me,” grinned Officer Rylon. Though he begged her pardon, he didn’t move out of her way.
Johanna clenched her teeth. Other than his robust form, she couldn’t remember what she’d ever found appealing about Rylon, with his too-blond hair and white leer. Her cousins used to snigger at him behind his back because he took to means like vinegar and lemons to lighten his hair. Johanna was certain it was all the wine, and certainly not her heart, that had once caused her to briefly overlook his foolish vanity.
He leaned against the frame of the car, still barring her entry. “Some say this expedition’s a bit dangerous for you. Would you like to hang onto my sword?”
Johanna’s mouth tightened. “Excuse me?”
He was still grinning. “You can hold it…again. If you want. You’d be much safer with your hands on it.”
At the sound of someone clearing his throat, Rylon stepped aside. Bram Visigoth stood at least a head taller than both of them. “Forgive me.” He spoke mildly, but his posture was imposing. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“Not in the slightest,” Johanna replied, her tone dripping with disgust. “Go away, Ry.”
Recognizing defeat, the guard retreated, taking care to bump Bram’s shoulder as he passed. She and Bram were left watching each other, the train rocking beneath them.
“Next time he bothers you, drop-kick him.”
Johanna laughed nervously. “I can’t drop-kick anyone.”
“Yes, you can.” His eyes were violet, and his smile reached them. “I’ll teach you how.”
She squeezed past him into her party’s car. “No, thanks.”
Bram kept up beside her, ducking his raven head as they passed beneath a chandelier. “Why not?”
“Because trains give me motion sickness.”
With a wide hand, he indicated the balcony door. “Would you care for some fresh air?”
She glanced around, unsure of what to say. Drew was engaging the others in a lively game of cards, an unlit cigar tucked between his teeth. A young serving woman came to top off their tea, and her brother gave the girl a pinch on the thigh before winking and shooing her away.
Johanna sighed heavily and took Bram’s arm. “Take me outside, then, before I retch.”
The tiny balcony afforded limited space for movement, but at least they were in open air. They greeted a somber sky, heavy with clouds. Bram slid the door shut and joined her at the iron railing. The land whirred, a blur of green fields. If Johanna concentrated, she could trick herself into thinking it was the grass that was speeding by and not her. She was standing still, while all the world flew past.
“Certainly looks like rain,” Bram observed. “What sort of weather do you have down in Rhys?”
“Same as Pierma,” Johanna shrugged. “Maybe a bit warmer, since we’re farther south.”
“I’ve never been.” He studied the moving scenery. “This is my first time leaving the capital.”
“Really?” She looked up at him. “After all your life at the palace, what prompted you to leave now?”
“To guard and protect,” he answered simply.
“That’s it?” She smiled.
“That’s it.”
The ensuing minutes unfolded in silence. Above them, the clouds didn’t part, only thickened. Johanna peered up at the pendulous sky, hoping it wasn’t a bad omen.
She heard Bram draw a breath. In it, she somehow anticipated the topic before he spoke. “Johanna, I apologize. I never properly offered my condolences on the passing of your parents last year. You were always surrounded by your family and maidservants, and I wasn’t sure how to….”
“Oh.” She tensed involuntarily as he held the railing beside her. “It was almost two years ago, actually.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek, looking embarrassed. “Has it really been that long?”
“Yes. You might recall, the emperor and empress spent a full year in mourning before holding Magdelena’s wedding. That’s why it was so delayed.”
“That’s right.” He glanced down. “Well, I’m very sorry.”
“Thank you.” She fought to hold her composure. “We may change the subject now.”
He seemed not to take offense, and wasted no time in giving her arm a playful nudge. “And can you believe Maggie’s next in line to become queen of Augland?”
“I can believe it,” said Johanna, grateful for the diversion, “although I don’t much envy the pomp and pageantry she’s bound to be undergoing over there. The east is far more ceremonial than the west.”
“I suppose their monarchs never had a gap in their reign like Jordinia’s twenty-year…hiatus.”
“Ah, yes.” That was one way to describe infamous failed Revolution. “And can you imagine what that must have been like?”
“Not really,” Bram chuckled.
A splash of rain landed on her sleeve, and Johanna looked down. “Oh. It’s starting to—”
“Rain.” Bram held up his palm, catching a smattering of droplets. “We’d better go inside.” He opened the door, seeing her in before following her. He latched the door just as a roll of thunder rattled it. Johanna rubbed the wet patch on her sleeve.
“Well,” Bram folded his hands behind his back, “if you don’t want to learn the drop-kick, I’ll show you how to throw a punch sometime.”
She smiled. “That, I think I can do.”
“You’ve got to really put your knuckles into it.” He displayed his enormous fist. “Show no mercy.”
She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, her cheeks warming. It must’ve been because of all the people in the car compared with the cool, open air outside. Either that, or the baby was changing her temperature. She’d heard that could happen. “I’ll keep that in mind, Bram.”
Turning away, she resumed her seat. She settled across from Ludwig, who was clearly daydreaming. She leaned her head against the window and watched the rain slide down the glass. She could daydream, too.
“HIT ME.”
It was their final evening aboard the locomotive. Half the car was already sloshed. Milo and Rylon guffawed over their mugs. Meanwhile, the soldier called Terrance, whose turn it was to deal cards, eyed Drew with caution. “You’re certain, sir?”
“Hmm, let me think.” He pretended to ponder. “Yes. And make it double.”
Terrance frowned. “You
have fourteen.”
“Pip-pip, three cheers for Terry! Terry knows how to count.” Drew tapped the spread impatiently.
The dealer gave him a hard look before laying down the next card. It was a queen. The men behind Drew erupted into groans and raucous booing, while those on Milo’s side of the table toasted sloppily. Drew dropped his head into his hands. “Lady luck, you cheeky tramp.”
The room spun as he dug into his pocket and pulled out his money clip. “One hundred, two hundred, three hundred…” he counted the notes aloud resentfully, tossing them into Milo’s face. They fluttered into the young guard’s lap.
His brother chose that precise moment to crest his solo into a squeal, piercing Drew’s eardrums and exacerbating his drink-induced headache. “Damn it, Vigo, we can only stand so many hours of that whining!” He swiveled around in his seat, while Ludwig looked up from his violin innocently. “It sounds like an orgasmic woman. And not in a good way.”
“As if you would know what that sounds like,” huffed a female voice, the only one in the room.
Drew tried to point at his sister, but his vision doubled. “Are you calling into question my ability to make a woman—?”
“All I’m saying,” his sister interjected, “is that I’ve seen maidens aplenty leaving Wolfgang’s chambers in the wee hours of the morning. But I’ve yet to see any leaving yours,” she sneered.
The car emitted a collective Ooh.
“Ouch,” Bram Visigoth laughed, crossing his long legs as he reclined on his bench.
“That, my girl,” Drew shot to his feet, and Terrance steadied him, “is an outright lie. And you know it.” His neck was hot. “From now on, every mistress I take to my bed, I shall parade through Garden Palace until the servants show her the door and I kindly entreat her not to return, I thank you.” He bowed, and his comrades applauded rowdily.
Johanna shook her head. “You’re repulsive. All of you.”
“And you’re a drag. So really, which is worse?” The train covered a bumpy bit of track, and Drew stumbled back. Terrance and Rylon caught him by the elbows. “Anyway.” He shrugged his friends away, brushing off his sleeves. “Ludwig, put down that strummy thing and take my dictation.”
“He’s not your scribe,” his sister complained.
Drew clutched his head. Her voice was almost as annoying as the violin. “And you’re not a man, so I wonder why you’re still talking?”
She closed her mouth, visibly fuming.
Thank God she’d shut up. At least there was still a chance she would go home before they boarded the ship the next morning. Although, it was beginning to grow less likely with each passing day.
He tossed the page of itinerary to Ludwig. “Write on the back of that, will you? Tonight we establish our goals. Come at me, men! Tell me what you want to accomplish on our grand excursion. Don’t be afraid to bream dig. I mean, dream big.” He staggered. “Clearly, I need another drink.”
“Found a city,” someone suggested.
“Colonize!”
“Name everything in sight,” Drew added. Ludwig scribbled as they spoke.
“Build something.”
“Find the meaning of life,” Bram called out.
“That one wasn’t serious,” Drew told his brother.
“Was so.” Bram sat up. Even sitting, the violet-haired guard was as tall as some of the men standing. “We’ve yet to find it anyplace else. Maybe it’s up there, on the islands.”
Drew surveyed his childhood friend. “The old religion not good enough for you, eh?”
There was a flicker of guilt in Bram’s grin. “Don’t tell my father.”
Drew returned the smile, pretending to button his lips. “The truth is, men,” he swept out a hand, “life has no meaning. We give it one.” He paused, startled that such a statement could result from his soused state. “Say, write that down, Vigo.” He addressed the group. “There comes a time for us all to decide whether the world happens to us, or we happen to the world. And I don’t know about you, but I choose the latter.”
He sat down again as a team of night servants entered the car, collecting mugs, emptying the ashtrays and offering more beverages. Drew held out his mug for a refill. He was thirstier than ever. And there was always room for more.
The port at Greygørn was swarming with seamen and fat gray gulls. Between her yammering entourage, the rumble of trunks rolling up the dock, and the foghorns of steamships preparing to depart beneath the morning sun, the quay was deafening. Johanna struggled to keep in step with her brothers. In honesty, her boots were too tight over her swollen ankles, and her dress was beginning to stretch across her abdomen. If not for her traveling cloak, she would certainly appear to have helped herself to one too many scones during her stay at the Royal Palace.
She couldn’t wait to board the ship. She would have her own cabin where she could work her needle and let out the seams to alter her clothing. She wasn’t sure how she’d conceal it when she grew round as a melon, but she had to start somewhere.
A massive, pearl-white steamship was anchored proudly in the harbor, surrounded by men conversing in a foreign tongue.
“Come, Johanna.” Bram guided her past it. “That isn’t for us.”
“It isn’t?” She gaped after it.
They came to the end of the dock where a more modest vessel awaited, bearing the name H.M.S. Kelti in fresh blue paint. It looked clean, but small. A Jordinian flag bearing the Ducelle crest fluttered at the masts. The naval commander stood at the base of the gangway, shaking hands with Ludwig and Andrew. Crewmen descended to relieve the party of their luggage and Bram stood back, indicating for Johanna to join her brothers. She moved to the front of the crowd and ascended the ramp, the guards following her in formation.
On deck, the wood was painted beige. Johanna stepped out of the way to examine the polished rails and her new surroundings as the men behind her filed aboard. Blended with the Royal Guard was now a slew of blue-clad naval officers manning the little ship. A salty breeze tickled her hair, and the steady waves below were murky.
“…followed by lunch at noon,” she overhead the commander informing her brothers. The old man removed his cap when he saw her. “Lady Johanna, what a delight.”
“The pleasure is mine, Commander,” she replied.
“We’ve worked hard to prepare your stateroom. We hope it meets your expectations.” His aging eyes twinkled at her.
“I’m confident your accommodations will more than suit me,” she assured him. “I’d like to be shown there now, if that’s all right.” She looked to her brothers for approval. Ludwig nodded. Drew ignored her.
“Shall I carry your trunk, my lady?” Officer Rylon pushed his way to the front of the queue, making to lift the chest from the porter’s hand.
“No,” Johanna protested, a bit too loudly. “Er—Officer Abram,” she turned to Bram, “will you handle my luggage, please?”
The guards moved aside as Bram came forth and relieved the porter of Johanna’s trunk. Rylon cast him a disappointed look.
“Officer Merriweather will show you to the cabin deck.” The old commander held out a hand, indicating the companionway.
Johanna and Bram followed Merriweather down the steps. The cabin deck was long, and the ceiling low. Bram had to duck. They reached a door around the corner, and Merriweather unlocked it.
Johanna stepped in. The cabin was roomy, but not overly so. The floors were laid with long, thick planks that felt slippery beneath her boots. A cheerful yellow rug by the bed added color to the room, and the window was framed by matching saffron drapes. A single flower in a vase rested at the bedside table. Last, parked behind a posh, decorative screen was a clawed bathtub. She could tell the Royal Navy had tried their best to add a splash of femininity to her lodgings.
She beamed at Merriweather. “Please inform the commander that I
love it.”
“Yes, my lady.” He handed her the key, saluted, and was gone. Bram remained in the doorway, dutifully holding her trunk.
“You may enter,” she beckoned him.
“Where would you like me to put this?”
Johanna thought. “By the bed, please.” She knew how heavy it was, but Bram didn’t complain as he hoisted the chest several paces farther and rested it at the foot of the bed. “Perfect.” She brushed a curl from her brow, already feeling warm and exhausted, even though it was still morning.
Though Andrew had insisted the guards behave more loosely on the trip, Bram stood ramrod upright, patiently awaiting his next order. “Is there anything else you need?” he inquired, after a pause.
“Oh.” She fluffed her hair, stealing a peek at her reflection in the wall mirror. “I suppose that’ll be all, Bram. I’m going to have a catnap.” She stifled a yawn. In fact, if she didn’t lie down soon, she thought she might pass out.
“Of course.” He indicated her trunk. “If you find this is in your way and need it moved, do call on me.”
“Oh, I will. I’d never try to lift that thing in my condition,” Johanna promised, unthinking.
Bram’s expression shifted curiously, and she immediately comprehended her mistake. She covered her mouth, turning away so that he wouldn’t see the alarm in her eyes.
“And, er…what condition might that be?”
The young woman collected herself, thinking fast. She faced him again with an airy grin. “My knee.” She feigned a limp, patting her leg. “I strained it recently and don’t want to injure it again.”
“I see.” His face was unreadable.
“Well, don’t let me keep you from the fresh air on deck.” She wondered if he could see her sweating. “I, er, trust you’ll wake me for lunch?”
“I shall.”
Bram closed the door as he left. Johanna expected to feel relief at his departure, but instead found she was only more apprehensive without him.
She took a seat on the edge of the bed, confused. She couldn’t name why, but she wished she could summon him back.
