by Alexa Donne
I opened my mouth to protest, to question him, but a look from Xiao silenced me. I nodded and wordlessly slipped from the bridge, making my way to the drawing room to fulfill my duty. It wasn’t easy. I stood in the doorway, clearing my throat and calling for attention two, three times before anyone but the Ingram wait staff paid me any mind, and even then, they remained skeptical.
“Are you sure Hugo’s not coming back tonight?” Bianca asked, like she was certain I was trying to trick her. “And even so, why should we go to bed just because Captain Fairfax is abandoning us?”
“Because he requested it,” I said. “I’m going below decks and will tell your crew to come fetch you. Have a good evening.” I didn’t give them time to protest.
While my bunkmates went to fetch their ladies, I got ready for bed, playing the events of the evening over in my mind as I brushed my teeth, unzipped my dress. The whole thing felt far away, already unreal to me, the memory fuzzy at the edges, fleeting like smoke. I hardly trusted my recollection of it. I pushed the fabric off my hips, thinking of Hugo’s hand in the same place an hour before. I touched tentative fingers to my lips. Had I imagined that part of it? His hand on my hip, of that I was sure, but this . . . I kissed the tips of my fingers as I’d dared not kiss his. It had to be a mistake. Hugo had no reason to be so intimate with me. He must have been too drunk to know himself.
Yes, that must be it, I decided, settling into bed with my reader tab. I’d fallen horridly behind in my books over the last few weeks. I fell asleep before the Ingram staff could return, lights blazing still, with lines from Dickens echoing in my head. They reverberated, poetry-like prose spiraling into vivid images in my mind, until they screamed.
But no. I realized it wasn’t literature in my dreams, but real screams I heard. I jolted awake, strap holding me down, surely bruising my ribs as I tried to sit up too suddenly. It was silent now, but I knew it had been real. My eyes darted around the room, and despite the dark, I could make out the outline of the other bunk, my roommates dozing. I undid the strap, climbing down and out of bed, making my way in bare feet to the door. The hallway was quiet, dim. The scream had sounded close, and instinct carried me to the medical bay. The light from the hatch window in the door lit the way, and I tiptoed down the hall until I was flush up against the medical-bay door. I obscured myself in shadows, able to just peek through the glass and into the room.
Inside I found Hanada standing grim-faced over a man who looked vaguely familiar. He was clutching his right hand over his left arm, which bore a bloody bandage. His middle was wrapped up too, like he’d been sideswiped by something. My eyes swept the rest of the room, as much as I could see of it, catching only empty gurneys and glass cabinets lit sickly yellow and full of medical supplies. Then suddenly a lumbering, dark figure appeared in the hatch window, and next thing I knew, the door was sliding open and I found myself pulled inside.
Chapter Seventeen
I yelped, wholly undignified, and stumbled over the threshold. But a pair of strong arms caught me against a warm chest. I angled my head up to find familiar eyes glaring down. Hugo.
“Miss Ainsley, you should not be out at this time of night,” he said, confusing me with my proper name. He gently but firmly pushed me away.
“I’m sorry, but I thought I heard a scream.”
The patient opened his mouth to speak, but Hugo cut him off. “Don’t you dare speak to her.” He turned back to me, his voice lower, softer, but it was still obvious to me that he was wound tight like a spring. “Stella, you should go back to bed.”
Hanada cleared her throat. “Actually, it might be a good thing that she’s here. She can watch him while we . . .”
The patient snorted, then groaned as if in pain. Both Hugo and Hanada told him to shut up, in unison, before he could make a retort.
Hugo nodded, first to Hanada, then to me. “Stella, I need you to stay here while Mari and I go take care of something. Don’t talk to him, or let him talk to you, and make sure he doesn’t go anywhere, or do anything.”
It was both specific and vague at the same time, but I nodded my agreement. Mari grabbed a medical bag, and Hugo flashed me a sympathetic smile and our bloody guest a hard-eyed stare, before they both swept out the door. I followed Hugo’s directive, sitting in a swivel chair so I could watch my charge, but I did not talk. He wasn’t so obliging.
“A girl so young as you should not be wrapped up in such sinister dealings. How old are you? Fourteen?”
Once he spoke, it clicked: where I knew him from.
“You’re from the Olympus. You were at the memorial. Meyer?” I said, breaking the embargo on talking myself.
“Mason,” he corrected me. “You’ve come a long way from the Stalwart to this place.” His beady little eyes narrowed in on me, practically looked through me, and a shiver ran down my spine.
I crossed my arms over my chest and refused to say anything else, though Mason prattled on.
“Do you know the history of this ship?” He coughed, groaned again, but didn’t stop his questions. “And of the people on it? Surely you must be curious?”
I swiveled away, concentrating on the wall, running through upcoming lesson plans to keep myself distracted. I didn’t know how much time had passed—twenty minutes? Thirty?—but my eyes began to droop, my head to loll against my shoulder, when Mason spoke again.
“I know you’re an inquisitive sort of person, Miss Ainsley. You asked your friend Jonathan Karlson to look into the Rochester crew, but he didn’t find much.”
“How could you know that?” I took the bait, whipping around to face him. He grinned like a cat.
“I had you flagged soon after arriving on the Rochester. I’ve been reading your messages ever since.”
“How could you do that?”
Mason sighed. “No one reads the terms of service. It’s well within the government’s rights to read messages. For the protection of the fleet.”
Arguing with him would be fruitless. I turned back around, ignoring him again.
“I have to thank you for giving me a reason to come and investigate. I couldn’t have, without due cause, and you were most helpful.”
I heard the click-clack of boots approaching at the same time as Mason did. I jumped up.
Mason’s lips tugged into an infuriatingly smug expression. “You should tell your friends to stop worrying so much about vegetables. Que sera, sera.”
The door banged open, Hugo looming large over us, eyes flashing accusation at Mason.
“Just talking about the weather,” Mason said.
“It’s time for you to leave, Mr. Mason,” Hugo said, ignoring his cheekiness.
“You said I could stay on board twelve hours. I need to sleep.”
“I’m sure your ship is equipped with autopilot. You’ll have three days to sleep.”
They engaged in their politely passive-aggressive battle until Mason finally gave in, using his good arm to leverage himself off the gurney. Hugo was an immovable object, met by Mason’s much weaker force.
Mason hobbled to the door with exaggerated slowness, until Hugo called him on his theatrics. “Quit that.” Hugo grabbed Mason’s good arm and pulled him into the hall. “Stella, please come with us.”
It was a short journey to the transport bay, though our elevator ride felt like it lasted hours. Mason alternately sniffled and smirked, more than once looking like he wanted to say something, only to be shut down by Hugo’s glare.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the vegetables. Jon asking me about them, and Mason specifically mentioning it. What had he meant by “Que sera, sera”?
Hugo went so far as to physically escort Mason onto his shuttle. I stayed outside while he went in, making sure the autopilot was programed to take him away. Mason loomed in the doorway as Hugo made his way down the shuttle steps, returning to my side.
“This isn’t over, Mr. Fairfax. Sleep tight.”
I shivered while Hugo seethed all the way to the outer ba
y, where we watched Mason depart. Questions bubbled onto my tongue, but I didn’t let them escape. The moment was wrong, with Hugo wound tight and likely to snap. Such a different mood from a few hours ago. We were less than fifty feet from the storage room, where a stolen moment in the dark had made my insides writhe. Now all that coursed through me was apprehension.
“I’ll see you to your quarters.”
“That’s not necessary—”
“I insist.”
We didn’t speak in the elevator, or in the icy blue lower-deck hallway. I walked slowly, forcing Hugo to keep my pace, working my way up to the right moment. It didn’t come. I asked anyway.
“Who attacked Mr. Mason?”
“Nobody attacked him.”
“Then what happened?”
“He fell. Down the stairs.”
“Which stairs?”
“To the upper deck.”
I didn’t believe a word of it. His answers were too quick. I felt sick at the fact he was lying to me. Keeping secrets. The hallway widened, bringing us to a stop at the crew corridor.
“And why did he come in the first place?”
Hugo sighed. “A surprise inspection.”
That, I could tell, was the truth. I opened my mouth, ready to ask a follow-up or three, but Hugo stopped me.
“I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you are too. It’s nearly three. Good night.”
“Night,” I said a moment later, into the dark space where Hugo used to be.
I awoke confused.
Thankfully it was the weekend, so I had no class with Jessa, leaving me to do some sleuthing. I waited until long after breakfast, until Lizzy and Preity headed for the drawing room to tend to their ladies, finally up and past their hangovers, so that their fun could start all over again. The sweet spot was the hours before dinner, while everyone was busy drinking and gossiping. No one would see me exploring the upper deck.
I’d passed it dozens upon dozens of times. The elevator and the staircase were just to the right of the bridge, but I’d never ventured there. I was a rule follower, and no one had given me permission to go above decks. I’d heard it called cold storage, though that’s what they called the library, too, so who knew what secrets were up there? And if Mason fell down the stairs, the place where he’d fallen had to have been here. I’d checked the only other stairs on board—aft, leading down to Deck Three; and forward, leading into Jessa’s quarters. Neither held evidence of a fall or injury.
The foot of the stairs to the upper deck was clear too. Still, I ventured up, willing some bloodstain to appear. I wanted what Hugo had said to be true. I climbed up the winding stairs until I came to the top of what should have been the landing. In front of me was a haphazardly erected barrier, old ship parts piled on top of one another and fused into a makeshift barrier. It was bizarre. Why would someone block up the stairs like this?
A high-pitched giggle floated up to my ears. Bianca. I crept back down to the bend in the stairs, keeping just out of sight.
“While I’m perfectly happy to have you as my neighbor, I don’t get why you don’t sleep in the captain’s quarters,” Bianca said.
“I prefer my old room is all.”
She was talking to Hugo. Of course.
“You were always too modest.” A pause. “Come on. Take me up there, for old times’ sake.”
“There’s nothing to see up there. I don’t see the point.”
“The point is that I’m asking.”
Silence. Then Hugo spoke. “Rori, unlock the elevator.” The doors dinged open a moment later.
I rushed back up the stairs to the barrier, pressing my ear against a metal fixture that likely used to be the hatch of a shuttle. A moment later, I heard the muffled rush of the elevator opening, Bianca and Hugo stepping out. I pictured a corridor, gunmetal gray with a pop of pastel from Bianca’s dress and heels.
“I want to go in—”
“No.”
I imagined Hugo’s face as stony as his tone, Bianca pouting.
“Why not?”
“I always keep it locked. No one goes inside.”
“Hugo, you have to get over this. You’ll have to go in there eventually. When . . .”
She drifted off. I pressed harder into the barrier, ear stinging cold from the metal. Did she touch him? Kiss him? I couldn’t hear anything. Then, a scoff.
“What? When you marry me? Cool your heels, B; it’s not your ship yet. Rori, elevator open.”
Thankfully the ding covered the happy laugh that slipped from my lips. Hugo putting Bianca in her place was the best entertainment I’d had in weeks. I supplemented the lack of visuals with a scene in my mind of Bianca’s face colored bright red, shooting daggers with her eyes.
I waited for the elevator to deliver them downstairs, and for them to wander in the direction of the dining room, where drinks started pouring at seventeen hundred hours. I crept down the stairs, rounding on the elevator and trying my luck.
“Rori, can you open the elevator doors?”
“You are not authorized to access this elevator,” she said, monotone as ever, yet I swore I detected an undercurrent of judgment. “I’m sorry, Stella.” I was imagining sympathy now too.
“No problem,” I said.
“You have a message. It just arrived.”
I thanked Rori and hurried to the bridge. Maybe it was from Jon. I had to warn him—and George—that Mason was reading our messages. But how could I do that without Mason seeing the warning, too? It would put them both in a dangerous position.
I pulled up the message, but it wasn’t from Jon, or George. It was from a ghost from my past.
Dear Stella,
I hope this message finds you well. I was surprised to find, when I inquired with the Stalwart to pass on my message to you in person, that you’d transferred to another ship. I’m afraid you’ll have to read my sad news.
My mother is very ill, and the doctors believe she will be gone within a fortnight. She has been asking for you more and more as she slips further into delirium. I cannot take her shouting, so I thought it best to summon you to the Empire to see her, as is her wish.
If you choose to come, please hurry.
Your cousin,
Charlotte
Chapter Eighteen
I went from creeping on the stairs to stalking outside Hugo’s study. Pressing my ear to yet another door, I heard a clink of ice against glass. He was inside, but was he alone?
“I need to leave,” I whispered, practicing the phrase. I dreaded saying it, though I knew I had to. Leaving would be practice, too.
I knocked lightly, until a muffled grunt granted me entry. The door slid open, and I propelled myself forward with a great big breath, for courage.
“Hello, Stella,” Hugo said, low and cautious. He probably thought I’d come to ask more questions about Mason’s visit. Luckily for him, my new circumstances had put my curiosity on hold.
My feet carried me to my old chair without a second thought. He had been standing, but Hugo followed my lead, sitting in the chair opposite. I took another deep breath, stretching my lungs until they almost hurt. “I need to leave.” I pushed it out before I could second-guess myself.
He stared, dumbfounded. “Where are you going?”
“To the Empire,” I said. “My aunt is dying, and she asked for me.”
“You have to go?”
“I would regret it if I didn’t.”
A loaded pause, and then: “Fine. Then when do you leave?” He refused to look at me, instead focusing on the rug on the floor, exquisite and impractical as it was. I willed him to look at me, to say what he was feeling. Sometimes I could swear he knew what I was thinking, but just as quickly, he could turn so cold. Distant. Hugo was a planet far from reach, a brightly burning star too distant to fathom.
“Tomorrow night. Xiao already called the shuttle,” I said, tamping down my own feelings in favor of facts.
Hugo kept his resolute stare leveled at the flo
or and began to tap his fingers aggressively against the arm of his chair. “And when will you return?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
Finally, he looked at me straight on, eyes locking to mine. “But you will come back?”
“Yes.” My reply came fast and fierce, my heart declaring itself before my head could catch up. “Unless you don’t need me here anymore.” I thought of Hugo and his impending marriage to Bianca.
“Of course we’ll need you here,” Hugo said, but it did nothing to reassure me. He might believe that, but I remembered my promise to myself. I would leave when Bianca and Hugo were married. And shortly, I would leave to go make amends with a woman who hated me.
“I need an advance on my salary. I’ll be fine to get to the Empire, but I need a bit more than I’ve earned for the return.”
“You can charge anything you need back to the Rochester.” Hugo waved me off.
“I appreciate the gesture, but I’d rather take care of this myself.”
Hugo kept tapping those fingers, though this time it was clearly in calculated thought. Finally he ceased his maddening motion, jumping up to retrieve his personal tab. He spent a moment jabbing and swiping at it, then turned it so I could see. “You’ve been here nearly three months, which means I owe you six hundred, but you’ll need more to hail a shuttle both ways. I’ve given you a thousand. Just in case.”
“That’s far too generous, I couldn’t possibly take it—” I tried to protest, but he cut me off.
“You asked for an advance. Consider it a promise to come back.”
“You needn’t bribe me for that.”
“It’s not a bribe,” Hugo insisted, though we both knew that it kind of was. A guarantee of my return.
And maybe I was lying, just a little bit. Everything I’d seen and heard aboard the Rochester was starting to wear on me. It would be easier to run away. But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t leave the people behind. I couldn’t leave him. Not yet.
He was looking at me now, pulling me into his orbit with those eyes that spoke volumes without saying a word. But they were mystery volumes; I could never tell if Hugo wanted to kiss me or throw me out into space.
