2

Fat drops of rain began to fall as I climbed down from the crow’s nest. My movements were clumsy as I crept toward deck, my palms still sweating a little over the rope.

I couldn’t stay up top forever. But I wasn’t ready to talk to the crew. I made for the galley instead and found Will soaking dried beans and kneading bread.

“Can you take this over?” he asked with no preamble as the galley door swung shut behind me. “I need to go to the storeroom below.” He laughed. “Need. Knead. Get it?”

Did Will know? I wondered.

My mind rejected the idea. Will was too comfortable, too kind. Too focused on working hard and feeding the crew, surely, to occupy himself with scheming.

But Yu was a doctor; he’d cared for me when I felt unwell. Andersen had made me paper ships and dragons, just to make me smile. They’d lied so easily. Could Will?

I huffed a laugh at him, but it sounded tense and unnatural. “You’re silly. Go.”

Will left me alone in the galley. Lanterns creaked from the low-beamed ceiling overhead, and dishes shifted gently in the copper sink. The smells of yeast and fat drifted on the air. I closed my eyes and tried to let them comfort me. But I couldn’t help thinking of the guns and gunpowder stashed right near the flour and the salt and everything else we needed to survive.

I tied an apron around my waist, shook out my hands, and began to work the bread. As rain pattered on the galley roof, I pushed the heels of my hands into the dough, trying to stretch out the anxious knots in my neck and shoulders. I let my muscles lead, let my mind wander, drifting across the sea and across time. From my godmother to Bear to Torden to Daddy; from Fritz, my waiting suitor at Katz Castle, to the Waldleute rebels we were on our way to aid.

The galley door swung open again, feet crossing the floor in time with the thump of the dough as I worked. But it wasn’t Will I saw standing over me when I looked up.

“Should I expect an end to the aerial performances anytime soon?” Lang asked.

I stiffened. Stilled.

Always more talking. He was so clever with words. I should’ve known he wasn’t going to give me space to think.

I shook my head and resumed my work. “I’m not playing games with you, Lang.”

“You’re still angry at me,” he said quietly. “And I don’t like it.”

He leaned against the counter, hands tucked in his pockets. Golden lamplight slanted across his cheeks and his upturned nose; his hair and his shoulders were spattered with rain.

I bent back toward my bread, pounding the last of the unincorporated flour and salt into the dough, wincing as the salt stung a shallow scrape on my wrist.

Lang passed me a damp cloth. I didn’t look at him as I took it.

“You have to accept the consequences of your choices, Lang,” I said, wiping my smarting skin. “I’m angry at you, and I don’t trust you, and it’s because of your own decisions.”

He made a noise of frustration. “Come on, Selah.”

“No, you come on,” I snapped. I thought of Daddy, all patience, all gentle listening. Of Torden, of the night he’d told me he couldn’t follow me back to Potomac. Of how he’d presented me the truth and then waited quietly while I decided what to do with it. “You think the answer to everything is words and words and more words. You can’t wait even a day while I figure out how to cope with this, you’re so obsessed with your own agenda.”

“Everyone has their own agenda,” Lang shot back. “Even you.”

“Me?” I demanded, tossing down the cloth.

“Yes, you! As far as your suitors know, you’re walking into your courtships with the aim of marriage. None of these poor saps know they don’t have a chance. That you’re just passing the time with them until you can turn tail and race home.”

“I’m trying to protect my father and my country. You know what’s at stake.”

Lang held up his hands. “And I’m trying to protect millions of innocent people. You’re lying for a good reason, just like I did. Are we really that different?”

I stepped close to him, jutting a finger at his chest. “My plan didn’t put anyone’s safety at risk.”

“Selah, you were never in danger.” Lang bent his head, casting both of us in shadow. A few droplets of rain trembled in his hair. “I had everything under control before y— Well, before.” His face was close to mine, earnest enough to infuriate me.

My breath left me in a rush. Red burned my neck and cheeks.

“Do not treat me like a child,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a fool, and you are not all-knowing. Anything could’ve happened while I was stumbling around blind.”

“I would’ve kept you safe.” He swallowed, and his throat bobbed. “I would have.”

I turned back to the bread, too angry to look at him anymore. Angry at his lies. Angry at my own weakness.

Lang came closer to me, two steps in the silent kitchen. I paused, wrist-deep in my work. When he put his hands on my shoulders, heat spread over my skin, furious and faltering.

“I don’t mind if you’re angry.” Lang’s thumbs stretched and tensed against my shoulder blades. He was close enough I could feel the words against the back of my neck. “I can take your anger. I just can’t take you shutting me out.”

“You were guilty of that long before I was, Lang.” I closed my eyes tightly. “I trusted you from the beginning. You were the one who wouldn’t let me in.” I looked over my shoulder and met his gaze. “And now you’re going to have to wait while I come to terms with this.”

My skin was colder when his hands fell away from it.