Brightly Burning

by Alexa Donne

  Hugo handled my trunk the rest of the familiar way to our rooms as I trailed behind, hiding my mortified expression. The ship was quiet, the way it used to be, another reminder that the Ingram party was gone. We reached my door—​I tested the bio-lock just to be sure this wasn’t some cruel joke—​and I felt a rush of happiness as it slid open, revealing familiar details, but with one marked difference.

  “Are those my drawings on the walls?” I gasped, stepping over the threshold to view them more closely. He’d transferred to canvas some of my greatest hits—​a watercolor of the Taj Mahal, an abstract representation of the space outside our windows, a lively scene from the drawing room. And on the wall across from the bed, there was a triptych of portraits: Jessa, Hugo, and me.

  “How did you get these?” I hovered up close to them, running disbelieving fingers over rough canvas, and blushing fiercely at my portrait. I’d never felt it was good enough to share, so seeing it here, and knowing Hugo had spent time alone with it . . . I might as well have been naked.

  “I had Orion hack your drawing tab before you left.”

  I should have been upset at the violation of my privacy, but at the moment, all I cared about was that Hugo had taken the time to do it. That he had thought about making my room that much more mine. I pressed my lips together in a tight smile to stop myself from letting out an undignified noise. “Thank you,” I managed, taking my trunk over from him. And then there I was, standing, Hugo just staring at me, like he was waiting for some response, some question from me. Instead, I changed the subject. “I don’t even know what time it is. I’m absolutely starving.”

  “It’s nearly dinnertime, so you’re in luck,” Hugo replied, and if he was disappointed, he didn’t let on. “Eat up, and I’ll see you in my study after.” It was like I’d never left. Like the Ingrams had never been here. Back to our old routine.

  At dinner, I was subjected to more hugs in one go than I’d collectively experienced in my whole life.

  “It was awful without you. Please don’t go away again.” It was a challenge extricating myself from hug number four from Jessa. I smiled, ruffling her hair, and tried to answer. The reassuring phrases I knew I was meant to say turned to ash on my tongue, leaving me speechless.

  “I’m sure Stella is as glad to be back as you are to see her. I’m glad you’re back myself.”

  Bless Xiao, ever the diplomat. I tried to capture her eye, to thank her, but instead caught an uneasy look between her and Poole. A conversation passed in a glance. They were as aware as I was what Hugo’s marriage to Bianca would mean. No promises to stay could be made.

  “When are the Ingrams coming back?” I asked, failing miserably at sounding casual. I spooned a double helping of mashed potatoes onto my plate to hide my panic.

  “Whenever Princess Bianca feels like it, I would imagine,” Poole said.

  “Hopefully never,” Jessa mumbled into her plate.

  “Tell us about your trip, Stella.” Orion changed the subject before Jessa could get on a roll. “We’d love to hear what the Empire is like.”

  I obliged, but I lost my chance to get more gossip about the Ingrams and the impending wedding. I’d have to ask Hugo himself.

  An hour later, duty carried me to the study, but dread kept me weighted in front of the door. I paced back and forth, pressed my ear to the door to confirm Hugo was inside. I didn’t hear anything, but that didn’t mean much. Just as I was contemplating going to bed and putting off this conversation forever, Hugo shouted through the door to come in. Cursing that I’d given myself away, I obliged.

  Déjà vu enveloped me like a fog: Hugo in his chair; light languorously low, projecting shadows onto the wood-paneled walls. I inhaled the musty smell of books and whiskey, then released a slow, deep breath before taking a seat across from Hugo. My old chair, but a new me.

  “I owe you an apology.”

  “Oh?” I braced myself, schooling my features so I could take the worst.

  “I wanted to make the new decorations for your room a surprise, but I realize they came at the expense of your privacy. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I mean, technically you bought me the drawing tab, so it kind of belongs to you anyway.”

  Hugo frowned, the shadows exaggerating it into a glower. “That’s no excuse. It was a gift, given freely. I don’t own any part of you.”

  “Then thank you. I appreciate it.”

  Hugo relaxed back into his chair, as if a considerable burden had been lifted.

  “You know, it was Jessa who scolded me about it. You’ve taught her well.”

  “I can’t take full credit. She was a good kid when I got here.”

  “Tell me all about your trip.”

  I relayed my semi-rehearsed platitudes about my aunt’s cancer, her passing, helping Charlotte tie up loose ends.

  “That’s it?”

  “Were you expecting a dramatic reenactment?”

  “I was expecting honesty. From what I know about your relationship with your family, I figure it wasn’t all smooth sailing.”

  I felt a tug in my stomach, something like longing swelling in my chest. I wanted to share with him, tell him all my deepest feelings. But then defiance whipped up from my core. Hugo seemed to wish to fall back into our old routine, once again skirting the line between employer and employee, friends and something more—​though the latter was mostly in my head. Yet he was keeping secrets from me, had put me through terrible social torture all those weeks the Ingrams were here. He was going to marry Bianca. I owed him nothing.

  “What about you? Why did the Ingram party leave so suddenly?”

  It caught him off-guard. He leaned forward, the dim light casting half his face in shadow. “Surely you know?”

  I didn’t know, and I didn’t like that he was teasing me again. I left my chair for the window, where I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye as he humiliated me.

  “I know they need to prepare for the wedding, but I don’t understand why everyone left. The junior staff should have stayed, at least. I’d like to know when they’re coming back, when the wedding is.” I turned my back to him, so only the stars would see my disappointment.

  “I’m not marrying Bianca.”

  The breath left my lungs. My vision swam, inky-black universe and dying stars swirling together like a stew.

  “I’m sorry; I think I misunderstood you. When are you marrying Bianca?”

  “I’m not. Marrying Bianca.”

  I heard him correctly that time, my head clear.

  “Why not?” I rounded on his chair to find that he had stood, as if to lord over me.

  “Because I don’t love her.”

  “But I told you to marry her. That it was the right thing to do.”

  “Right for whom? For me? For you? For this ship?” Hugo punctuated each word with a step, slinking like a cat until he’d boxed me in against the windows.

  “For them!” I stopped him in his tracks, hand to his chest. “They’ll die without us.”

  “That’s why I couldn’t do it,” Hugo said, eyes glued to my hand on his chest, like I’d burned him. “You’d sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of another’s. You’re incredible.”

  “It’s nothing. Anyone would do the same.” I stole back my hand but didn’t budge from where I was. I wanted to make him uncomfortable with my closeness, box him in and call him out.

  “No, they wouldn’t. You are good to a fault. You saw only two solutions, and you chose the one that would hurt you the most, because you thought it was the right thing to do.” He laughed at a joke I must have missed. “I wish you’d just asked me for a third option. It would have been a lot simpler.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “The Ingrams will be fine. I’ve made arrangements with the Lady Liberty to take them on board.”

  The weight of two dozen lives lifted off my shoulders.

  “So, nothing has to change? I can stay on the Rochester?” I sounded as meek
as I felt, relief wending its way up my spine. It was the best news I could have hoped for.

  “Not if you don’t want to,” Hugo said. For the briefest moment, I lost my mind and senses to elation, throwing my arms around him in a hug I quickly regretted. I was too forward, too close, too—​then Hugo responded, and my panic took on a new form. He was hugging me back.

  “Don’t you want to know why I don’t love Bianca?” he said into my hair.

  “Because you met her?” I said into the rough fabric of his coat, sure he couldn’t hear me. He could, and he laughed.

  “That’s why I love you, Stella. You have a good heart, but also a sharp tongue. The perfect combination.” He pulled away, while I stood frozen, repeating his words in my mind. That’s why I love you. Like a sister, he’d probably meant to finish. Right? But his expression, his eyes, were not brotherly at all.

  “You’ve finally dispensed with your poker face,” he said, leaning down for some inexplicable reason.

  And then he kissed me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  His lips were chapped, rough, but I didn’t care. I was far more focused on my own unmitigated panic. I’d never been kissed, not properly, and the last time I’d tried to kiss someone—​George—​I’d performed abysmally. I knew one thing. If I didn’t kiss him back, Hugo would stop, and I did not want that to happen. My entire body was celebrating, every inch of me on fire, beating wildly, shouting with joy. I raised myself up on my tiptoes and returned pressure in kind, parting my lips just so, like I’d seen at many a movie night. And—​oh! Hugo pulled me in closer, strong hand at the small of my back, and introduced his tongue into the mix.

  Now my body went tight like a harp string, my mind in analytical overdrive. I didn’t pull back, but I didn’t do anything either. Hugo was trying to do . . . something with his tongue, and I let him, but that was about it. This was foreign, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. He must have sensed my reticence, because finally he pulled back, and I hated how relieved I felt. I’d gone from ecstasy to discomfort in the space of seconds, and I hated that I felt that way. Hugo had kissed me! He loved me!

  And now he was looking at me expectantly, nervous and questioning. The panic came back.

  “Thank you!” I chirped out, the first and only thing that came into my head. Then I bolted, dodging around the chairs and slamming my hand against the EXIT button, not stopping until I got to my quarters. It was the coward’s response, but one that felt wholly natural. I collapsed on my bed, breathing deep to slow my galloping heartbeat.

  Had I just hallucinated that? Boys like Hugo didn’t fall in love with girls like me.

  Love. My brain stumbled over the concept. He couldn’t possibly . . . I must have misunderstood his words, and maybe he’d been feverish when he’d kissed me—​

  My comms pinged. Incoming message from Captain Hugo Fairfax. Frex. I pushed down my humiliation, currently manifesting as a full-body blush, and answered. We may have just crossed all sorts of lines, but Hugo was still my boss. I couldn’t ignore a direct hail.

  “Hi.”

  “Hey.”

  Silence like a yawning chasm stretched between us. We were off to a great start.

  “Listen, I’m sorry—”

  “I shouldn’t have—”

  We stumbled over each other, laughed, then plunged back into awkward, inert nothingness. I stared across the room to the triptych, the winking eyes and sly smile I’d given Hugo unfitting for the awkward boy hanging in my ear. It was time for me to be the “bold girl” Hugo was always calling me with that maddening grin.

  “I’ve never been kissed like that.”

  “And I’ve never kissed anyone like that.”

  “Liar.” My tone was playful but earnest. That was not the kiss of a novice, even if its recipient was.

  Silence again for a moment then. “Mechanically, maybe, but the feeling behind it . . .”

  I laughed, then caught myself. “I don’t mind that you’ve kissed other people. It’s just weird that you want to kiss me.”

  A pause.

  “Stella, you’re going to have to let me in so I can kiss you again.”

  “You’re outside?”

  He knocked lightly on my door to prove it. I leaped up and across the room with embarrassingly desperate speed. Then, suddenly vain, I dashed into the bathroom to check my reflection, even though Hugo had just seen me exactly as I was. Still, I decided to make one change. I pulled my hair out of its bun, letting a tangle of locks cascade over my shoulders.

  I opened the door, breathless. “Hi,” I offered uselessly, unable to suppress a smile.

  “Hi,” Hugo answered, smile tugging equally hard at his lips. He leaned against the door frame expectantly, waiting for me to make the next move. But I found myself frozen, too many questions hanging in the air.

  “I’m still half convinced I’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll have run away.”

  “You’re one to talk,” he shot back. “Running off in the middle of the night to help ailing aunts.”

  “Last time you ran off, you came back with Bianca Ingram.” I arched a brow. “What was that about?”

  Hugo grimaced, a satisfying mien of guilt passing over his features. “I was confused. And, um, I sort of wanted to make you jealous. See if you liked me as much as I liked you.”

  I narrowed my eyes to slits. “That is incredibly stupid.”

  “I’ve realized that now, yes.”

  “You owe Bianca an apology. You led her on.”

  I found myself crushed in a hug, Hugo’s warm timbre reverberating against my neck. “This is why I love you. You’re far kinder than I am.”

  I wriggled out of his grasp, made uncomfortable by the unmitigated praise. “I’m not a saint, so don’t make me into one. I just can imagine if she feels a fraction of the way I did that she’s probably miserable. I think she really wanted to marry you. She turned down all her other suitors, you know.”

  “Did you become friends when I wasn’t looking?”

  “Junior staff talks.”

  “About me?”

  “Often.”

  “Did you defend me?”

  “Sometimes.”

  A cloud passed over Hugo’s face, both of us thinking about Hugo’s darker corners. The drinking, gambling, keeping the Rochester’s secrets. I thought of these things, at least. Hugo did not dwell on them, the storm passing quickly, the sly upturn of his lips back, eyes staring without pretense at me, my hair, my body, my lips. I knew what he wanted.

  I wanted it too.

  But I wanted answers more.

  “How do I know this is real?”

  He cupped his hands around mine, insistent but gentle. “I know that I’m terrible at feelings. I’ve not had the best role models. I thought for a long time I was better alone, but then you came along. And I don’t think that anymore.”

  I leaned into him, tipping my face up to his, taking the initiative this time. The kiss was likely chaste by Hugo’s standards, but it was the first that I controlled—​the pressure, the length, where hands went. And it was bliss.

  “I’m glad you came back,” Hugo husked against my lips as we pulled apart. Our foreheads touched, limbs hopelessly entangled.

  “I promised.”

  “Didn’t mean you would.”

  I kissed him again. “I always keep my promises.”

  “I’m figuring that out.” He pulled away, breaking our embrace, leaving me cold. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Why tomorrow?”

  “Because I can’t stay any longer tonight without doing something I’d regret.”

  The admission practically burned my cheeks off, but it certainly did its job. I said good night, though I was sure I wouldn’t fall asleep anytime soon. I was wide awake, my brain running through a dozen scenarios of what the next day, then weeks, months, years might bring, my body thrumming from the adrenaline. When I did finally sleep, I dreamed of Hugo.

  I floated through the next
day, heart in constant threat of beating out of my chest. It was a feat not to burst into song in front of everyone, herald the news. Somebody loved me.

  That somebody stubbornly stayed out of sight all day. I looked for him around corners, in the dining room, while I was teaching Jessa, like his declaration last night magically meant he’d change his routine. I was acting the fool, and I knew it. A fool for love.

  I practically flew to the study after dinner, though just as I was about to lay my hand on the OPEN button, I hesitated. What if I walked inside to find the old Hugo? Mysterious and friendly, blowing hot and cold. With a deep breath, I went in, preparing myself for the worst.

  Hugo turned from his spot in the middle of the room where he must have been pacing, a dopey grin overtaking his features. He bounded over to me, pulling me into a hug, which morphed into a kiss. We kissed our way backwards, an awkward tango over to Hugo’s chair, where I ended up straddling his lap. After a minute or two, I finally managed to get a few words in edgewise.

  “What happens now? Same as before, but with more kissing?”

  Hugo took a break from exploring the expanse of my neck to look quizzically up at me. “Is that what you want?”

  “To be a secret? Not really, no.”

  “Good. I wasn’t planning on keeping you a secret anyhow.”

  “Oh, really? What kind of plans did you have in mind?” I teased.

  “I’ll show you.” Nudging me off his lap and standing, he slid his fingers through mine, then tugged. “Come with me.”

  I tripped along behind him, following without protest, if a bit confused. Our destination was the bridge, where he deposited me before the bank of windows and screens with a breathless flourish.

  “I want you to have this.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Hugo grabbed my hands in his. They were sweaty. He bit his lip, a rare nervous expression passing over his features. “Well, technically I want to share it. My ship. Captaining it. As my wife.”