by Amie Kaufman
“I can see at least half a dozen guys watching us. Am I making any deadly enemies? Or at least, any more than I already have?”
“Would it stop you from sitting here?” she asks, finally removing the second glove and setting it down on the table.
“Not necessarily,” I reply. “Handy thing to know, though. Plenty of dark hallways on this ship, if I’m going to have rivals waiting around corners.”
“Rivals?” she asks, lifting one brow. I know she’s playing a game with me, but I don’t know the rules, and she’s got all the cards. Still, the hell with it—I just can’t find it in me to care that I’m losing. I’ll surrender right now, if she likes.
“I suppose they might imagine themselves to be,” I say eventually. “Those gentlemen over there don’t look particularly impressed.” I nod to the group in frock coats and more top hats. At home we’re a simpler people, and you take your hat off when you come inside.
“Let’s make it worse,” she says promptly. “Read to me from your book, and I’ll look rapt. And you could order me a drink, if you like.”
I glance down at the book I plucked off the shelf. Mass Casualty: A History of Failed Campaigns. I slide it a little farther away, wincing inwardly. “Perhaps the drink. I’ve been away from your bright lights for a while, so I’m a little rusty, but I’m pretty sure talking about bloody death’s not the best way to charm a girl.”
“I’ll have to content myself with champagne, then.” She continues, as I raise a hand to signal one of the hover trays. “You say ‘bright lights’ with a hint of disdain, Major. I’m from those bright lights. Do you fault me for that?”
“I could fault you for nothing.” The words somehow bypass my brain entirely. Mutiny.
She drops her eyes for the compliment, still smiling. “You say you’ve been away from civilization, Major, but your flattery’s giving you away. It can’t have been all that long.”
“We’re very civilized out on the frontier,” I say, pretending offense. “Every so often we take a break from slogging through waist-high muck or dodging bullets and issue dance invitations. My old drill sergeant used to say that nothing teaches you the quickstep like the ground giving way beneath your feet.”
“I suppose so,” she agrees as a full tray comes humming toward us in response to my summons. She selects a glass of champagne and raises it in half a toast to me before she sips. “Can you tell me your name, or is it classified?” she asks, as though she doesn’t know.
I reach for the other glass and send the tray humming off into the crowd again. “Merendsen.” Even if it’s a pretense, it’s nice to talk to someone who isn’t raving about my astounding heroics or asking for a picture with me. “Tarver Merendsen.” She’s looking at me like she doesn’t recognize me from all the newspapers and holovids.
“Major Merendsen.” She tries it out, leaning on the m’s, then nods her approval. The name passes muster, at least for now.
“I’m heading back to the bright lights for my next posting. Which one of them is your home?”
“Corinth, of course,” she replies. The brightest light of all. Of course. “Though I spend more time on ships like this than planetside. I’m most at home here on the Icarus.”
“Even you must be impressed by the Icarus. She’s bigger than any city I’ve been to.”
“She’s the biggest,” my companion replies, dropping her eyes and toying with the stem of the champagne flute. Though she hides it well, there’s a flicker through her features. Talking about the ship must bore her. Maybe it’s the spaceliner equivalent of asking about the weather.
C’mon, man, get it together. I clear my throat. “The viewing decks are the best I’ve seen. I’m used to planets with very little ambient light, but the view out here is something else.”
She meets my eyes for half a breath—then her lips quirk to the tiniest of smiles. “I don’t think I’ve taken advantage of them enough, this trip. Perhaps we—” But then cuts herself short, glancing toward the door.
I’d forgotten we were in a crowded room. But the moment she looks away, all the music and conversation comes surging back. There’s a girl with reddish-blond hair—a relative, I’m sure, though her nose is straight and perfect—descending upon my companion, a small entourage in tow. “Lil, there you are,” she says, scolding, and holding out her hand in a clear invitation. No surprise, I’m not included. The entourage swirls into place behind her.
“Anna,” says my companion, who now has a name. Lil. “May I present Major Merendsen?”
“Charmed.” Anna’s voice is dismissive, and I reach for my book and my drink. I know my cue.
“Please, I think I’m in your chair,” I say. “It was a pleasure.”
“Yes.” Lil ignores Anna’s hand, her fingers curling around the stem of her champagne glass as she looks across at me. I like to think that she regrets the interruption a little.
Then I rise, and with a small bow of the sort we reserve for civilians, I make my escape. The girl in the blue dress watches me go.
“You next encountered her … ?”
“The day before the accident.”
“What were your intentions at that stage?”
“I had none.”
“Why not?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Major, we aren’t here to entertain you.”
“I found out who she was. That it was over before I even said hello.”
TWO
LILAC
“Do you know who that was?” Anna tilts her head toward the Major as he slips out of the salon.
“Mmm.” I try to sound noncommittal. Of course I know—the guy’s picture was plastered across every holoscreen for weeks. Major Tarver Merendsen, war hero. His pictures don’t do him justice. He looks younger in person, for one. But mostly, in his pictures, he’s always stern, frowning.
Anna’s escort of the evening, a tuxedo-clad younger man, asks us what we’d like to drink. I never bother to remember the names of Anna’s dates. Half the time she doesn’t even introduce them before handing them her fan and clutch and skittering off to dance with someone else. As he heads to the bar with Elana, Swann follows them, after a long, level look at me.
I know I’ll catch hell later for slipping my bodyguard and getting here early, but it was worth it. You have to know to look for it, nearly invisible in the lines of Swann’s skirt, but there’s a knife at one thigh and a tiny pistol set to stun in her clutch. There are jokes about how the LaRoux princess never goes anywhere without her entourage of giggling companions—that half of them could kill a man at a hundred yards is not exactly public knowledge. The President’s family doesn’t have protection like mine.
I ought to tell them about the man who accosted me, but if I do, Swann will usher me out of the salon, and I’ll spend the rest of the evening locked in my room while she verifies the man in the cheap hat didn’t intend to harm me. I could tell he wasn’t dangerous, though. It’s hardly the first time somebody’s wanted me to intervene with my father. All his colonies want more than he can give, and it’s no secret that the most powerful man in the galaxy dotes on his daughter’s every whim.
But there’d be no point to Swann hiding me away. I recognized the particular slump of the man’s shoulders as the Major guided him out. He won’t try again.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Lil.” I look up, startled. She’s still talking about Major Merendsen.
“Just a bit of fun.” I toss back the last mouthful of champagne in a way that makes Anna crack a smile in spite of herself.
She erases her smile with an effort, summoning a scowl far more suited to Swann’s face than hers. “Uncle Roderick would be cross,” she scolds, sliding into the booth next to me and forcing me to move over. “Who cares how many medals the Major managed to wrangle in the field? He’s still just a teacher’s son.”
For a girl who spends more nights in someone else’s room than her own, Anna is a prude when it comes to me. I can�
��t help but wonder what my father has promised her in exchange for keeping an eye on me on this trip—or what he’s threatened her with should she fail.
I know she’s only trying to protect me. Better her than one of my bodyguards, with no reason to cushion the truth when reporting to my father. Anna is one of the only people who knows what Monsieur LaRoux is capable of, when it comes to me. She’s seen what happens to men who look at me the wrong way. There are rumors, of course. Most guys are smart enough to steer clear, but only Anna knows. For all her lectures, I’m glad she’s here with me.
Still, something in me won’t let it go. “One conversation,” I murmur. “That’s all, Anna. Do we have to go through this every time?”
Anna leans in so she can slip her arm through mine and put her head on my shoulder. When we were young, this was my gesture—but we’ve grown, and I’m taller than her now. “I’m only trying to help,” she says. “You know what Uncle Roderick is like. You’re all he has. Is it such a terrible thing that your father’s devoted to you?”
I sigh, leaning my head to the side to rest it on hers. “If I can’t play a little when I’m away from him, then what’s the use in traveling on my own?”
“Major Merendsen was rather delicious,” Anna admits in a low voice. “Did you see how well he filled out that uniform? He’s not for you, but maybe I should look up his cabin number.”
My stomach gives an odd little lurch. Jealousy? Surely not. The movement of the ship, then. And yet, faster-than-light travel is so smooth it’s like standing still.
Anna lifts her head, looks at my face, and laughs, the sound a delight-ful, well-practiced tinkle of silver. “Oh, don’t scowl, Lil. I was only joking. Just don’t see him again, or you know I’ll have to tell your father. I don’t want to, but I can’t not do it.”
Elana, Swann, and the faceless tuxedo return with a hover tray in tow, laden with drinks and hors d’oeuvres. The girls have given Anna enough time to chastise me, and they’re all smiles as they slide into the booth to join us. Anna sends the tuxedo back to the bar because her drink has a stick of pineapple in it rather than cherries, and she and the other girls titter to one another as they watch him walk away. It’s clear why Anna’s chosen this one—he’d give the Major a good run for his money in the filling-a-suit department.
Anna begins describing the tuxedo’s enthusiastic attempts to court her, much to the amusement of Elana and Swann. Sometimes this kind of conversation is all I want—light, easy, and not remotely dangerous. It takes the spotlight off of me, puts Anna at center stage, so that all I have to do is smile and laugh. Usually she’d have me in stitches by now. But tonight it feels hollow, and it’s hard for me to let myself go.
I glance at the door now and then, but though it swings open and closed dozens of times, it’s never to admit Tarver Merendsen. I’m sure he knows the rules as well as I do, and there’s not a person aboard who doesn’t know who I am. That he spoke to me at all is a wonder. Though my father made a show of letting me travel by myself for my birthday in New Paris, the truth is that he’s always there, in some way or another.
There is one tiny comfort, though. At least he left of his own accord, and I didn’t have to end him in front of all my friends. After all, on a ship carrying over fifty thousand passengers, the odds of ever encounter-ing again the Major’s crooked smile and distracting voice are next to nothing.
The next two nights Anna and I skip the salon, and go straight to the promenade deck after dinner. We walk arm in arm, and talk out Anna’s gossip. I know she’ll still spend the entire night in our adjoining suites draped over the foot of my bed, chatting. Though she never seems to show the effects of not sleeping, I inevitably wake up with purple smudges under my eyes, standing out like bruises on my fair skin. Outside of these voyages, Anna and I never get to spend so much time together. Here, we can be like sisters.
And so we walk. Swann is with us as well, of course—I can barely get out of bed without her at my elbow—but if she listens to us, she doesn’t comment.
Though Anna’s said nothing else about the Major, he hasn’t been far from my thoughts. Most of the lower classes, when they speak to me, try to pretend they’re on my level. They fawn over me, dancing attendance, so phony it makes my teeth ache. But the Major was candid, genuine, and when he smiled, it didn’t seem forced. He acted like he genuinely enjoyed my company.
We turn into the broad sweep of synthetic lawn that curves around the stern of the ship as the lights, timed to the ship’s clocks, dim past sunset into dusk. The observation windows tint from their daytime image of sunny sky and clouds through gold, orange, pink, and finally to a starry sky more brilliant than any you could find on a planet. Back home on Corinth there are no stars, only the gentle pink glow of the city lights reflected in the atmosphere, and the holographic displays of fireworks against the clouds.
I’m watching the window and listening to Anna with only half an ear when her arm in mine tightens convulsively. I nearly stumble as she stops abruptly, but thankfully I catch myself before I can face-plant on the synthetic lawn. Tripping over my own feet would land me in the headlines for a week.
Anna’s eyes aren’t on me but rather fixed on something—or someone—some distance away. I look over, and my heart drops into my violet satin shoes.
Major Merendsen.
Has he seen us? He’s speaking to another officer, head bowed to listen to him—maybe he’s distracted enough that he won’t notice me. I turn my face away, willing him not to spot me. I curse my unusual hair, too bright to be fashionable or subtle. And why do I insist on jewel tones? If I was dressed like the other girls, maybe I would blend in.
What awful backwater posting would my father have him reassigned him to, if Anna reported back that I’d been associating with the infa-mous Major Merendsen, teacher’s son, scholarship student, classless war hero? If only the Major realized he’d be lucky to make it out with a reassignment.
“Good heavens, he’s actually coming over,” Anna murmurs in my ear through a fixed smile. “What on earth ails him? I mean, does he suffer from some mental—”
“Good evening, Major,” I interrupt, cutting off Anna’s stream of insults before he’s close enough to hear them. I hope.
The Major’s fellow officer waits respectfully some distance back, and my heart sinks even lower. Anna knows the rules, so she and Swann make their excuses and walk some distance ahead, ostensibly to look out the window. Anna glances back at me once she’s passed the Major, both brows lifted in concern.
Don’t, her expression warns me. Let him go. I can see a momentary flash of sympathy in her gaze, but that doesn’t change the message.
They stay within earshot, providing only the illusion of privacy. Swann leans back against the railing, watching us closely. Still, she looks more amused than concerned. She may be lethal when I’m in danger, but she’s still right at home with the others, thriving on gossip and giggling and the intricate dance of society. Anna’s used to this rotating roster of bodyguards, and she adopts them into our circle as readily as any of our other companions. My father chose well.
“Good evening,” says Major Merendsen. Behind him Anna whispers something to Swann, who giggles loudly. The Major barely flinches, merely smiles a little. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted your evening with your friends. But I never got the chance to ask the other night if you’d be interested in seeing the observation decks some evening. You mentioned you hadn’t been there much.”
Anna is staring at me, her green eyes fixed on mine. There’s no sympathy there now, only warning. That not even my best friend will keep my secrets is a truth I’d rather not face right now. Especially since the most painful part is that I can’t even blame her. There’s no one my father can’t rule. Not Anna—not me.
And certainly not Tarver Merendsen. How arrogant can this guy be? Maybe he thinks the rewards are worth it. Men will do just about anything for a rich girl’s attention. If he won’t back off on his own,
well—I’ve done this before. Nothing short of absolute annihilation will do. I have to choose my moment with care to maximize the damage.
“You remembered.” I find my smile, feeling it spread across my face like a sickly grimace, and turn my attention back to the Major. “I think my friends will understand if I miss out on one evening.”
Behind the Major, I see Anna’s face freeze, genuine fear flickering there. I wish I could tell her to wait, not to panic. But that would give me away.
His face shifts, the cautious smile widening as some of the tension drains. It’s a jolt to realize that he was nervous. That he really, truly, wanted to ask me. His eyes, the same shade of brown as his hair, are fixed on mine. God, if only he weren’t so handsome. It’s a lot easier with the older, fatter men.
“Are you busy now? Tonight?”
“You certainly don’t waste any time, do you?”
He grins, clasping his hands behind his back. “One of the things you learn fast in the service is to act now, think later.”
Such a change from the circles I travel in, the deliberate games and calculated slips of the tongue. Anna’s mouthing something at me, but I only catch the end of it. Something about now.
“Listen, Major—”
“Tarver,” he corrects me. “And you still have the advantage on me, Miss … ?”
It takes me a few seconds to understand what he means. He’s watching me, brows lifted, expectant.
Then it hits me. He doesn’t know who I am.
For a long moment I just stare at him. I can’t remember the last time someone spoke to me who didn’t know who I was. In fact, I can’t think of any time at all. Surely when I was little, before I became the media’s darling? But that seems so far away from who I am now, like a movie seen in another lifetime.
I wish I could stop, let it sink in, even revel in this moment. Enjoy speaking to someone who doesn’t see me as Lilac LaRoux, heiress to the LaRoux Industries empire, richest girl in the galaxy. But I can’t stop. I can’t let this stupid, foolish soldier be seen with me a second time. Someone will say something to my father, and ignorant or not, Major Merendsen doesn’t deserve that. I’ve done this before. So why do I have to hunt for the right words to bury him? “I must have given you the wrong impression last night,” I say airily, summoning my brightest, most amused smile. “I try so hard to be polite when I’m bored out of my skull, but I guess sometimes that backfires.”
