RAYEL STOOD on the path outside her fiancé’s fenced garden, frozen for a moment in the thought that he wanted her father dead and equally frozen in the uncertainty about what to do. Her mother, if Rayel told her what she’d overheard, would likely say Rayel was making up stories to avoid marriage. Her father was too interested in his books and birds and in believing his wife to take his daughter seriously. There was no one to whom she could turn.
She rubbed her head in frustration and confusion, then tapped its largest bump, off to the side of her head—the one that made her look particularly lopsided. Usually tapping helped her think. This time it did not; it only reminded her of how ugly she was. How could her father possibly believe that Cathuu wanted to marry her?
Then the light dimmed inside the house, and she knew that whoever was in there would be coming out soon. It wouldn’t do to be caught eavesdropping after such a conversation. She squared her shoulders and jogged down the path, taking care to be quiet while she hurried.
She didn’t go home. Her feet took her to the docks almost without her even having to think. It was like they knew where to go.
Her brain knew, too. A year or so ago, when she was thirteen, she and Solomon had almost run away. They’d gotten as far as the docks and then she’d backed out, scared of the unknown—and scared to bring Solomon into it. She’d thought he was better off on Raftworld.
She shoved the memory down. Now she knew better. She had to leave, as soon as possible, in one of the little boats. In less than a week she’d be married. She needed to leave before that happened. If she didn’t marry Cathuu, he would have no reason to kill her father: he wouldn’t be next in line for the throne, being no blood relation at all to Rayel’s family.
Somehow that thought made up her mind. She didn’t know how else to work against this awful man, but by leaving, she’d foil all his plans. She’d win.
Not right this minute, though. She needed her own plan—or at least some supplies.
Okay. She’d leave tomorrow. One day to pack and say good-bye to Raftworld. There was no one here she’d miss now that Solomon was gone, but she’d miss the world itself—the chickens and the small birds, the lush gardens, the water slapping lightly on the bottom of the raft day and night. The feeling of movement under your feet all the time, as if you were part of the world’s breathing—something no one on land ever really got to experience.
Well, she’d still be on a boat. It would be okay.
She just needed to figure out where to go—and for how long.
She’d leave tomorrow night.
THE NEXT DAY, late in the morning, Cathuu came over to have lunch with his fiancé—which is to say, her—and she called from her bed that she was too sick to get up.
Her mother came to the room and stood in the doorway, peering into her dim room. “Get up right now, young lady. Don’t embarrass me.”
“I don’t feel good at all.” Rayel coughed. “I think I might throw up.”
“Well.” Her mother’s voice sounded like she didn’t believe her. “You can stay in bed today, without any food. I mean, you wouldn’t want to eat if you feel like you’re going to throw up.”
Ugh. Rayel was hungry, too.
“And you can’t hide from him forever. You’ll come to like him when you’re married. He’s a very handsome man. And he’s really going somewhere.”
Sure. He’ll be king if he has his way.
Rayel’s mother shut the door firmly and returned to the dining room. Rayel could hear her tinkling laugh mixing with Cathuu’s booming tones. Their voices rang through most of the afternoon.
By evening Rayel was famished. She packed a few useful items—a change of clothes, a spool of string, a small scissors—but truly she didn’t have much in her bedroom that would be good for living on a small boat.
And for how long? She thought she’d try for at least a year. Maybe in a year she could return—maybe sneak back in the night—and see if Cathuu had married someone else meanwhile. He probably would. He was already nearly thirty years old. And if he were married to someone else, it would be safe to return, probably.
It irked her to think that she was saving her dad’s life and he’d never know about it. He’d keep trusting Cathuu. She considered writing a note of explanation and leaving it on his desk . . . but knowing her father, he’d show it to his wife, and she’d say Rayel was lying, reaching pathetically for attention.
That night when the housekeeper had gone and her parents were in bed, she snuck out of her room with her bag, ate the leftovers in the kitchen, and packed up dried goods for her trip. In the garden shed she took a fishing net, a pot and a bucket, a knife, and a few more items she thought she’d need.
And then she escaped.
She slid a small boat into the water and rowed and eventually raised the sail and headed away, not even sure where she was headed. Maybe to the Islands. There were other people there. Or maybe someplace with no people, to bide her time until she might return.
To begin with (and because Raftworld never traveled far in that direction), she headed south. No one would look for her there. South was a place where she could disappear.