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Our ship was a blend of old and new—a retrofitted, two-masted schooner. A pair of paddlewheels affixed to the starboard and port sides near the stern churned seawater into frothy foam. Crisp white sails billowed in the breeze. We stood at the deck rails, watching the Varyngan coastline shrink until it was a dark slash at the edge of the sea. A salty breeze stirred the hairs curling at my temples. I buttoned my jacket against the chill air, wishing I could wear my Thunder Cloak instead. Malita had drawn her shawl over her shoulders, and Niffin wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, sharing his warmth. If Gideon had been there, would he have offered me the same comfort?
Of course he would. He’s stoic, not callous.
His absence scraped my heart raw, especially at night when I had trouble sleeping. I missed the reassuring rhythm of his breath.
The last time I’d travelled by sea, I’d been fleeing my home on Inselgrau, chased by what I’d believed were revolutionaries and upstarts. I hadn’t been able to bear watching my country fade away, so I’d put Inselgrau to my back and gazed, instead, at the horizon. This time, my departure was less disturbing. In a roundabout way, I was starting the first leg of a journey that would eventually lead me home.
Also, the last time I’d travelled by sea, I’d been kidnapped and washed overboard during a storm. With that in mind, I kept my senses tuned, watching my fellow passengers, assessing each one for the possibility of threat. I never strayed far from my friends’ sides. My boot knife brushed my ankle when I moved, and when I reached for the storms, they responded like loyal soldiers awaiting orders from their favorite commander. If anyone attacked, I was prepared to defend myself.
As the sun drooped and the sky darkened from blue to violet, the Burya sailed toward a port on the Batiysk Sea’s opposite coastline. Once there, we exchanged a few passengers, collected more coal to feed the furnaces, and returned to the open waters. The ship’s captain promised that if we continued making good time, we’d arrive in Dreutch by dawn the morning after next.
After dinner, Niffin and Malita retired to their tiny berth. I took the compartment next door. A sliver of moonlight shone through my room’s small porthole, providing the only light besides the glow from a single flickering candle at my bedside. I cracked open the porthole, letting in a stream of fresh air, diluting the musty odors in my room. The excitement of clashing with Alyona’s gang, the use of my powers, and the strain of remaining alert and wary had drained me. My eyes felt gritty and dry as I slipped into bed. My last thoughts were of Gideon, and I prayed to my ancestors, begging them to keep him safe.
My eyes must have been closed only a moment before snapping open when sharp voices jarred me awake.
“Se iyen o da?” Niffin’s tone was indignant.
The tenor of Malita’s reply matched his. “Mi o mo!”
Tuning my ears, I listened, breath held. The ship’s thin walls might as well have been sheets of parchment. Niffin and Malita’s voices were clear, as though they stood in the room with me. They were speaking Malita’s language. I couldn’t translate their words, but I understood their tone. Terse and angry, this fight was nothing like their usual lovers’ tiffs.
Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and debated knocking on their door to ask if everything was all right—if they might not prefer a night of separation. Before I could make up my mind to interrupt them, they fell silent, but their animosity seeped through the walls, as frigid as a winter breeze.
When I lay down for the second time, sleep didn’t come so easily. I exchanged my prayers for Gideon for ones about my friends and asked for wisdom in deciding what to do next.
***
A heavy blanket of silence covered our table as we ate breakfast—plates of eggs, dried sausages, and toast that tasted like sandpaper. Hostility coated every bite in a rancid oily flavor. Malita’s shoulders drooped, and dark circles had collected under her eyes. Niffin’s hair was spikey and disheveled, his pale complexion downright deathlike. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who’d slept poorly.
“I hear there’s a library on board,” I said. “Board games and cards too.” We needed a distraction, something to keep our minds occupied.
Malita’s gaze flicked toward me, but she gave no signs of interest as she shoved food around her plate. Niffin ignored me altogether.
“Fine, no games,” I said. “How about I throw you both overboard for a chilly swim?”
That caught Niffin’s attention. His mouth popped open, and his eyebrows arched above his spectacle rims. A pink flush flooded his cheeks.
“How about a training lesson then?” I dropped my napkin on the table and stood. “Teach me some of those techniques you’ve taught Malita.” My request was genuine, but I could tell he suspected I wanted something more from him than training. He wasn’t wrong. “Just you and me.”
Malita’s brow crumpled, and her lips turned down even farther. Before she could object, I pointed at the side table where a waiter was laying out a plate of muffins. “Why don’t you take a snack back to the room. Enjoy a little peace and quiet.” I squeezed her shoulder. “If you look in my bags, you’ll find a roll of blank parchment and a few pencils.”
Not so long ago, Malita’s drawings had been our primary means of communication. She was a talented artist. She considered my suggestion for a moment, tapping her lip as she furrowed her brow. Then she nodded, stood, and swished by us, stopping to collect muffins and tea before leaving the room.
“Well...” Niffin gnawed his bottom lip, staring at the doorway through which Malita had disappeared. “If one of the duties of a queen is to arbitrate peace, then you are well on your way to earning your crown.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. Let’s find a quiet place away from the crowds. I bet the other passengers won’t be too understanding if they spot me struggling to get away from you.”
We found an area on the main deck near the stern, free from onlookers. A stiff breeze from the north had brought an uncomfortable chill, and the paddlewheels threw up enough mist and raised enough clatter to discourage casual visitors. I buttoned my coat and rocked on my feet to keep my body warm and blood pumping.
Though not as tall as Gideon or as broad, Niffin still stood half a head higher than me. His lean muscles were strong and ropey like the cables of hemp coiled about the deck. At first glance, he might not have seemed intimidating, but one encounter with his subtle strength would probably make most assailants reluctant to fight him twice.
“Let us work on escaping wrist grabs.” He removed his tinted spectacles, pushed up his sleeves, and raked his dark hair off his brow. Waggling his fingers, he held out his hand, motioning for me to give him my arm. His long fingers curled around my wrist, squeezing until I gritted my teeth. “First thing is to step back and spread your feet. Get your balance.”
Once I’d followed his instructions, he continued. “Relax. The tighter your joints and muscles are, the harder it is to turn your wrist.”
Again, I complied.
“Stay loose, but quickly turn your thumb toward mine. It should force me to loosen my grip. The moment it does, try to pull free.”
We worked through the simple routine until I perfected it. Then he taught me to escape a two-handed wrist grab. We added in a knee jab to disable my attacker long enough for me to flee. Satisfied with my performance, Niffin suggested we take a break from the noise and cold breeze. I agreed, and together we strolled to the dining room.
He poured two glasses of water and passed one to me. “You were determined, and you did a good job, but...” He gazed at the mural painted on the dining room's opposite wall—a fierce sea goddess battling an aquatic monster, its tentacles rendered in such fantastic detail that it seemed alive and eager to seize an unsuspecting passenger. “I assume training was not your real reason for wanting to be alone with me, Ev—” He cleared his throat. “Liesl.”
Away from the ocean breeze, the air felt warmer, staler, thicker. I sipped my water as sweat trickled down my neck. “I might’ve had an ulterior motive.”
“You are curious about the fight you overheard last night, yes?”
“I don’t need the details. I only need to know you’re keeping the promise you gave me in that field on the outskirts of Pecia. You’re keeping Malita safe above all else, right?” I wished I could make him promise to keep her happy, too, but that was unfair to them both. Initially, Niffin was little more than an acquaintance in the periphery of my thoughts. Over the past weeks, he and his family had come to mean much more to me, and he deserved my utmost sympathy—the same sympathy I would’ve offered a brother, if I’d had one. “You’d make her happy if you could. I know it.”
“I would.” The earnestness in his purple eyes scorched me. “I would do anything.”
“I know you’re frustrated.” I rose up on my toes until we were nearly eye to eye. “But you can’t take it out on her.”
He raked his hands through his hair and let out a heavy breath. “I vow I would never do such a thing, but this whole situation has made me shorter tempered than usual. Malita’s homesickness has affected her similarly. She is a flame, I am a fuse, and together we have become rather...” He puffed out his cheeks and spread his hands like dispersing smoke. “Explosive.”
“You still love her, though?”
His jaw clenched, shoulders going rigid. His tone turned low and menacing. “Never suggest otherwise.”
Another passenger squeezed in, pouring a cup of tea from an urn on the table beside us. Flinching, Niffin seemed to remember himself, where he was, and who we were supposed to be—or more importantly, who we were not supposed to be. He slid his spectacles in place and drew me away from the refreshments table, away from prying eyes and curious ears.
“We can’t keep avoiding this issue.” I swallowed the last of my water and set my glass on an empty table. “If I had my way, I'd make you permanent residents of Inselgrau. You’re both valuable to me, but I’m afraid I’d only be making myself happy with that arrangement.”
“It is an honor to serve a queen.” He took my hand, bent his knee slightly, and pressed a dry kiss to my knuckle. “Especially if that queen is you.”
I drew my hand back, ignoring the wry grin playing on his face. “This standoff between you and Malita can’t keep going. It’s painful to watch. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to endure firsthand.” I drew in a deep breath, carefully considering my next words. “I'm afraid I have to insist, no matter what Justina said, that once we finish our business in Steinerland, you’ll take Malita home. The decision of what you should do after that is up to the both of you.”
I met his hard amethyst gaze and raised my chin. “You’re always welcome in my home, Niffin, wherever that home winds up being. I’d be honored to have you as my diplomat, but I’d give you freedom to come and go at your will. You’d never be kept away from your people, as long as you were there to help me when I needed it.”
Narrowing his eyes, he tapped his bottom lip. “Perhaps I should insist I stay with you until you reach Inselgrau, but I am afraid I am too human, and my heart is too soft when it comes to Malita.”
“She’s your priority?”
He nodded.
“Good. That’s what I’ve always expected from you.”
“After Steinerland, I will do whatever Malita wishes. I will take her back to Nri, to Chagda, if that is her desire.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Perhaps the winds will blow me back to Inselgrau. Perhaps they will not. Either way, I am always your friend.”
I patted his shoulder. “I’ve never doubted it.”
That afternoon, a minor sea squall blew in, rocking the ship, turning passengers green and nauseous. Niffin and Malita, intrepid sailors of the sky, shrugged off the storm’s effects and joined me in a nearly empty dining room for supper. I purposely selected a table close to the captain’s. After listening to him grumble that the storm could delay our arrival, I caught Niffin and Malita’s gazes and gestured for them to follow me outside. We staggered to the starboard side and clung to the railing as the ship heaved and rolled.
Closing my eyes, I calmed my thoughts and extended my senses. Something inside my chest unfurled like a fern uncurling to welcome a ray of sunlight.
Hello, dear, said my grandfather’s spirit. Have you found us some evening entertainment?
“Not too entertaining,” I whispered. “But a chance to stretch our legs, at least.”
I cast my will into the heavens, and the storm responded—a lonely pet eager for affection, pressing against me, softly purring. I stroked the air currents, gentling them, whispering soothing words until the winds dozed, contented. With a firm push, I shoved the clouds, and they unfurled and dissipated.
The ocean calmed. Our boat steadied.
Someone from another part of the ship whooped, sending up a shout of glee.
Niffin, Malita, and I quietly chuckled. Any tension that remained between us disappeared with the storm’s departure, and we kept watch over the stars long into the night.
***
Soon after the sun had risen, the captain announced our arrival in the Dreutchish port of Borstock. Niffin, Malita, and I gathered our belongings and horses and made our way in a long line of departing passengers to the end of the dock. A string of black carriages hunkered along the street, awaiting their chance to collect fares.
We waded through the traffic, pushing deeper into the city, trading the waterfront’s fishy, musty odors for the city’s industrial smells. The sun hid behind ridges of thick clouds, none threatening rain, but the overcast day matched my grim mood. It must have affected Malita and Niffin similarly because they kept to themselves, leaving only the rumble of city life to fill the silence. Despite my reservations about returning to Steinerland, being in Dreutch among people who spoke a language I understood, for once, was an unexpected relief.
We found our way to the train station, a squat brick building barely large enough to house a pair of attendants selling tickets at a window covered in iron bars, as though they were prisoners rather than employees. A string of benches trailed the length of the train’s platform, but the tracks were empty. I wondered how long we would have to wait before the next train arrived.
Niffin and Malita waited on the street, guarding our horses and bags while I went to the ticket window. On Inselgrau, I’d travelled by train only a few times, and my father or one of his aides had handled the administrati ve aspects of it. We hadn’t been so posh as to own a personal royal car, but we’d always ridden a private one with elegant furnishings and comfortable beds.
I doubted we’d be so fortunate on this trip.
“Next train to Steinerland leaves this evening,” the attendant said. About my age, he wore a smart jacket and waistcoat in burgundy brocade with gold braid stitched along the lapels. A round cap perched atop his slick blonde hair. “Presuming it runs on schedule, of course.” His lips twisted into a skeptical grimace, as if he doubted that likelihood.
“And when will it reach Steinerland?”
“Before noon tomorrow, assuming you don’t come across any bandits. The line’s been plagued lately—since drought hit the farmlands a couple months back. People are getting desperate these days.”
“Bandits?” My heart shuddered, cold and trembling, as I remembered my lethal encounter with the brigands in the Thaulgant Mountains.
“Happens sometimes.” He shrugged as if regular train attacks were as expected as the occasional bout of bad weather. “They don’t usually bother the passengers. It’s the baggage cars they want. Looking for anything valuable to steal, eat, or sell.”
I gaped at him. “And the passengers are left to fend for themselves?”
“Train company’s recently hired guards to patrol. Don’t know how much difference they’ll make, though.”
I had counted out the train ticket funds already, but I clenched my coins tightly, my palms going sweaty. “Maybe we’d have a better chance on the road. We have horses.”
“Road’s not any safer. Bandits there too.”
“Why am I not reassured?”
“You shouldn’t be. But going by road could take you twice as long, and you’d be on your own. So weigh your options and see which suits you, but if you aren’t going to buy a ticket, I’d kindly ask you to step out of line.”
I debated asking Niffin and Malita for their opinions, but indeed, a line had formed behind me. The longer it took to get to Steinerland, the longer it would take to complete the next step in my quest to return to Inselgrau, and to Gideon. Every day, his absence gnawed at me a little deeper, and my fear and worry for him grew. I even missed his broody, dark moods.
“Three tickets, then.” I slid my coins through the window opening. “And room in the stock cars for our horses. Two of them.”
“Sleeping berths?”
Needing my funds to last as long as possible, I shook my head. “Whatever’s least expensive.”
The ticket attendant swept away my coins and replaced them with several slips of paper stamped with the date and boarding times. “Be on the platform by eight. The train won’t wait if you’re late.”
“Can you recommend somewhere for lunch?”
He tilted his head northward. “The Weißes Haus. Three blocks up. Try their Maultaschen.”
I tucked our tickets into my pocket and rejoined my friends. “We have some time to kill,” I said. “Let’s try our best to stay out of trouble.”
