Brightly Burning

by Alexa Donne

  “If you’re leaving tomorrow, that means I can have you tonight,” he said, lips curling into a wicked smile. I choked on nothing more than my own saliva at the shock of it, but then Hugo went on. “A little birdie tells me you’ve learned to play poker below decks. I insist we play.”

  “My abilities have been overstated. You don’t want me at your table. And I have nothing to wager.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Go grab your dinner, and I expect you at the poker table promptly at eight.”

  And that was how I ended up spending my last evening on the Rochester for who knew how long engaged in a most insidious game of poker.

  I was a fish among the sharks. They grinned; their teeth glinted in the light, eyes narrowed to knowing slits. I’d watched Bianca, Braxton, and Captain Ingram play from afar many times before, but sitting under the halo of light that illuminated the table, shadows cast in sharp relief across faces that clearly wished my defeat, it was a wholly other experience. I was flanked on either side by Braxton and Captain Ingram, leaving Hugo and Bianca facing me like an elegant couple with a guest at their table.

  But I played the part of a shark as well. Poker was all about keeping one’s cool, not letting on how good or bad your hand was, maintaining composure. I was an old hand at that. What I hadn’t quite mastered was the art of manipulation, of acting to fool my opponents, which both Bianca and Hugo were skilled at. For one thing, I was certain that Hugo was only pretending to be drunk for once. There was a keenness behind his eyes that I recognized. Hugo was sharp. Hugo was paying attention.

  Bianca was playing the part of the coquette and simpleton, giggling at every half-clever thing the men at the table said, calling her sister, Lucy, over to ask for her help in analyzing her cards. I didn’t understand her strategy except perhaps to look vulnerable and cute for Hugo, given everyone at the table knew how skilled she was at the game. She didn’t need Lucy’s help any more than I did.

  Captain Ingram was, in fact, not very good at poker at all. He could not control his facial expressions when dealt a hand, and he chewed on his lip when he bluffed, making him rather easy to beat, which I did in the first round. Bianca took the second, not at all graciously. She sent me a gloating smirk across the table as Hugo insisted we play again and that I must participate, try to win back my title. I withered a bit in my chair. Then I slapped away Braxton’s hand from its attempt to negotiate my thigh.

  I approached the next game like a call to battle. I sat up straight, rolled my shoulders and neck, cracked my knuckles. When I looked at my cards, my face remained impassive. They were decent, but not great. Still, I placed my bet—​it was Hugo’s money and favors, after all. Another element of the game that made me dangerous to my opponents. I had nothing to lose.

  And then Hugo went and ruined everything. “What do you say we up the stakes so this game is a bit more personal?”

  Bianca lit up. “What did you have in mind? Strip poker?”

  “With your father and brother playing with us?” Hugo laughed. “Not exactly. I was thinking more along the lines of putting personal favors on the line.” He examined his cards with a sly smile, then looked at each of us in turn. “For instance, I wager a joyride in my private transport.”

  Joyride in private transport appeared on the tab table screen under the column of Hugo’s wagers, setting it in stone. You had to be very careful with what you said at a poker table—​everything was registered, and there was no backing out of bets once uttered.

  “Or you could wager just your private transport,” Captain Ingram said, but Hugo shook his head vehemently.

  “Small stuff only. Things those of us at this table can do for the others.” Hugo discarded two of his cards, picking up two from the deck.

  “Well, then, I fold,” Captain Ingram said in a huff, throwing down his cards. “There’s no trifle anyone at this table could wager that I’d have interest in.”

  Or he had a crappy hand, more like. Down to just the four of us with Hugo’s new wager literally on the table, I found it a challenge to maintain my outwardly confident demeanor. I had no clue what so-called personal stake I could wager, but Bianca was quick to come up with something.

  “I wager a song. If I lose, the winner can ask me to sing anything, and I’ll do it.” She swapped out three cards—​bad hand?

  I noticed Braxton roll his eyes when he thought his sister wasn’t looking. Then it was his turn to wager or fold. He shrugged. “I’ll wager a back massage.” He took just one card, but I could tell from his microscopic flinch it wasn’t a good one.

  If ever there was a disincentive to win a game, a massage from Braxton was it. But I kept my face passive as I tossed my own wager into the ring—​a portrait of the winner. I drew two cards, forcing myself not to react—​I wanted to smile, since I was on my way to a straight flush if luck kept going my way.

  “Now, for this round, a bit of a twist,” Hugo said. “I will choose what each of you must lay on the line to raise.”

  “That’s not fair, Hugo!” Bianca smacked him lightly on the arm. “We’re hardly playing poker anymore at that point.”

  “My ship; my rules.” He took a swig from the cup I was sure didn’t contain a drop of liquor. “I’ll start with you, Bianca, since we’re throwing out the conventions of poker, as is. My wager for you is your quarters aboard this ship. If you lose, the winner gets your room.”

  I couldn’t help it; my eyes went wide at that, and Bianca made no effort to maintain her cutesy persona. Fire nearly blew out of her ears.

  “That is absurd!”

  “Not if you have a good hand. Wager it if you’re sure you’ll win.”

  Bianca’s fine cheeks burned red with frustration, but she pressed her mouth into a firm line and swapped out another two cards. She was in. I noticed the tab didn’t register the bet, and so did Hugo. So he made Bianca repeat it out loud. It was a beautiful thing to hear her say, “I will give up my room.”

  “Braxton!” Hugo lowered his voice so just the four of us could hear. “You shall wager a public confession about how you’ve spent all night trying to run your hand up Stella’s skirt.”

  I nearly fell out of my chair. Braxton narrowed his eyes to slits, staring down Hugo, then pushed back from the table noisily, throwing his cards down. “Frex you, Hugo Fairfax, and your frexing games.”

  Hugo was unmoved. “Stella, you shall wager both your tabs. Reading and drawing.” He knew how much they meant to me—​they were my sole and primary hobbies, and if Bianca won, I’d never see them again. But from the way Hugo was looking at me intently, the gentleness when he suggested it, I knew he thought I could win. He’d surely given me incentive—​save my beloved possessions, get my room back from Bianca.

  I accepted his proposal, repeating the wager and drawing just one card. I hid my disappointment that my luck had not held. Maybe I could still go for a flush.

  “And finally,” he said with a flourish, “for me: I wager my bachelorhood and, in turn, my ship. Whoever wins will get to decide whether or not I will marry Bianca.”

  Frexing hell.

  Bianca made a choking sound, which blossomed into something of a growl. “Hugo, what are you playing at?” Each word was tight, almost violent.

  “I’m just putting something on the table that’s very valuable to me,” he said. I didn’t miss the way he looked to me as he said it. He was challenging me to fight for my place aboard this ship. Electricity traveled down my spine.

  “Me or the ship?” Bianca asked through clenched teeth.

  “Both,” Hugo replied, glib.

  Bianca was not yet satisfied. “And what if you win?”

  “Then nothing will have changed. I’ll honor my commitment.”

  “And if she wins?” She spat her pronoun like a curse, jerking her chin in my direction. I froze under their collective stares. Did I really have to answer that? Hugo saved me the burden.

  “I would hope that Stella would follow her heart.”

/>   If looks could kill, Bianca’s would have stopped said heart dead in my chest. Then her eyes flitted back down to her cards, and her hard look morphed into one of vicious delight. “Then I call. We go one more round to draw, should we need to; then we show our cards,” she said, clearly convinced her hand was a winner, or at least that the odds were in her favor. Two out of three that she’d get her way. She pointedly did not take any new cards.

  I examined my cards again, sure to keep my features impassive. I had a flush, which would be enough to win if Bianca and Hugo had mediocre hands. Should I swap out the card keeping me from a straight flush, taking the chance? Or stick with my cards, assuming Bianca was bluffing with her cat’s grin? The tiniest ball of panic sprang up in my belly, ballooning into a pressure that pulsated with my heartbeat. Looking at Hugo made it worse. I could live without my tabs if I needed to, and getting my room back would be poetic justice, but it wasn’t a real need.

  But the chance to stop Hugo from marrying Bianca, to keep the Rochester from the Ingram family’s greedy grasp . . . I wanted it desperately. Even if I was a fool to nurse feelings for Hugo, I wanted to save him from her. Everything depended on the cards in my hands.

  I blinked slowly, breathing steadily like there wasn’t a full-scale panic happening inside. “I’m good,” I said, forgoing the deck. I just had to hope my flush would be good enough to make a stand.

  Hugo looked at Bianca and me in turn, then put his cards on the table. “I fold,” he said, to Bianca’s frustrated groan. Her odds just went down. But mine went up. And it was time to show our cards. Bianca stared me down, willing me to go first. I refused. Fine ladies of the fleet before governesses and all that.

  Bianca read my impassive expression and lack of action as the challenge it was, and finally turned over her cards, laying them out on the table with a flourish. The wicked glint in her eyes told me she was confident her straight was a winner. I let my face fall, increasing her triumph for just a second. Then I laid my cards out for all to see.

  “Flush,” I said. “I win.”

  Bianca was struck speechless, choking on disbelief and rage. I refused her the satisfaction of gloating, though I couldn’t help a small smile as the tab table registered the win, transferring all the bets that had been laid down into a column with my name on it.

  “Good game,” Hugo said, turning to his apoplectic would-be fiancée and attempting to offer some comfort. “I’m sure your cousins won’t mind doubling up again.” Bianca glared at him hard, and I stifled a laugh. He had to know that wasn’t the part of the wager she was upset over losing. The full realization washed over me. I held both their futures in my hands. No, not just theirs, everyone’s on this ship. Captain Ingram and his wife, Braxton, Justine, the nameless cousins, Lizzy, Preity, even Griegs. Their ship was dying, and we were their only hope.

  Guilt replaced any sense of triumph. There was far more on the line with this marriage than Hugo’s—​or my—​happiness.

  The rest of the Ingram party finally noticed that a showdown of epic proportions had gone down, swarming the table and Bianca, gasping at the contents of the winning tally, bombarding both Hugo and Bianca with questions. I slipped away quietly before they could turn their attention to me. But I wasn’t fast or far enough when Bianca caught up to me in a dim corridor halfway to my quarters.

  “I know you’re probably pretty happy right now, thinking that you’ve won. That now you can get your way and have Hugo all to yourself.” Bianca kept her voice low, almost pleasant. “But you’re deluding yourself that by removing me from the picture, you’ll make him love you. You’re just some governess from a crappy ship, without anything to recommend her but for barely passable drawing skills.” She took a step closer, backing me up against a bulkhead. Briefly I wondered if she was about to hit me, but her fists remained at her side. Instead, she chose to bruise and bloody me with more words.

  “Go ahead and try to stop this marriage. Hugo and I have history. I knew him before his parents died, and I know him now. Can you say the same?”

  I couldn’t. And I didn’t know if I could compete with Bianca, but I surely knew I wanted to get out of this conversation, so I did my best to disarm her.

  “Bianca, I don’t know what impression you have of me, but I have no designs on Hugo, and I wish you no ill will. Besides which, I’m leaving tomorrow, so you won’t have to worry about me.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  “Yes,” I answered, remembering my promise to Hugo.

  “Then you’re still my problem.”

  There was no arguing with her, so I used my shorter stature to my advantage, simply ducking under her arm, calling “Good night, Bianca” behind me as I ran away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  On my last day aboard the Rochester for the foreseeable future, I avoided Hugo like it was my job, worried he would force me to “collect” on my winnings from last night, specifically the decision regarding his marriage. I’d slept unsoundly, tossing against my safety strap, too caught up in questions of what kind of person I wanted to be. My brain buzzed with doubt, worst-case scenarios, and future forecasting, which filtered into my dreams once I finally succumbed to exhaustion. I barely remembered my dreams once I woke, but the feelings remained. Guilt and dread, dread and guilt. I could make the choice selfishly, tell Hugo not to marry Bianca, so nothing would change for the Rochester. Go back to evening reading sessions with my captain, my biggest concern being who had attacked Mr. Mason. In fact, it might even be someone from the Ingram party. Another reason in favor of the selfish choice.

  Or I could save the Ingram, affecting the lives of dozens, sacrificing my own comfort. Ignoring the fact that I didn’t think Hugo wanted to marry Bianca at all, that he was relying on me to save him. Save him or save everybody. Mine was a heavy burden.

  Talking to the girls the next morning didn’t help. They confirmed there were no backup options for the Ingram—​Bianca had turned them all away, and, given the state of their water-recycling and air systems, they estimated the Ingram had maybe two or three months left of sustainable life. It was worth far more as spare parts for the Rochester. Marrying Hugo and joining with the Rochester was truly their last resort.

  I went about my normal day’s routine, then prepped Orion on how to follow my lesson plans while I was away, said goodbye to Xiao and Jessa after dinner, and then camped out in my quarters until the last possible moment, avoiding the drawing room and indeed the entire second deck just so I wouldn’t run into Hugo. The shuttle would arrive late in the night, really closer to the following morning, and I intended on staying up. To pass the time, I read, something newer this time—​an Earth survival fantasy written by Jupiter Morrow, one of the fleet’s most popular authors, Orion’s favorite book and his parting gift to me.

  Indeed, despite the morbid conditions precipitating my travel, I was more than a bit excited to return to Earth orbit and to the rest of the fleet. For the first time since I was a kid, I would be back on the fleet not only with means, but with tech. I could get the fleet news delivered right to my tab—​we got it on the Rochester on a delay, and on the Stalwart only the highlights delivered via message scroll in the mess hall—​and with the advance on my salary, I’d be free to purchase my own clothes, accessories, gifts. My plan was to buy some tea and candy on board the Empire and send it over to George and my students as a “Hello, I’m still alive and thinking of you!” message.

  Close to midnight, after Preity and Lizzy had trickled in—​apparently the Ingram party had insisted on an early night—​and we had said our goodbyes, I went to the transport bay to wait. Sergei was already here, it seemed, but a note tacked to the loading door told me he was taking a few hours’ respite and rest. Just like last time, I fashioned my bag into a makeshift seat, reminding myself to purchase a newer, nicer case during my trip. There was no way I’d be able to fit any gifts I’d purchase to bring back in this one along with my current loads, comprising just my three favorite dres
ses and both my tabs. But after an hour of sitting in the sad, gray metal box and realizing I could be looking at another two to three hours before we took off, I reconsidered my plan to wait blindly. I left my bag and crept quietly past the drawing room and Hugo’s study to my favorite view. The bridge was silent and dark, and a much better place to wait, seeing as I could camp out in the captain’s chair and would be alerted by the tab screens when Sergei returned to the transport bay. Only the captain’s chair was occupied. By the captain.

  “What are you doing here at this hour?” I jumped back, my heart taking off into a gallop. He started at the sound of my voice, broken out of what appeared to be a contemplative stupor.

  “I could ask you the same question,” he said, swiveling his chair around. I was unused to this angle, me towering over him. The act of towering was itself a new one.

  “I came to sit somewhere with a better view while I wait for Sergei to be ready.”

  “You got sick of the monotony of the outer transport bay?”

  “How did you know I was—” I caught sight of the surveillance feed pulled up on his tab. “Were you spying on me?”

  Hugo shrugged it off. “I was debating whether I should go down to see you off. And whether I should call on you to make a decision on your winning hand.”

  “You’re not actually insisting on holding me to your wager, then?” I hoped a bit of skepticism on my part would prove the whole thing was some elaborate joke.

  “Very much so,” he replied, finally standing. Now he towered over me, so close I could feel his body heat. “Last night I wished to test your poker face, and now perhaps I can test your heart.”

  I took a step back, trying to escape his eyes, which inspired a weakness in me I was determined to fight against. It was in moments like this, just him and me in the darkness, that I imagined we might have a future. It was foolish of me. “Don’t you think it cruel to leave the fate of an entire ship in my hands?”