10

“You’re joking,” I tell the young man beside me. He pulls down his hat brim and hoists his bag higher on his shoulder, not taking his eyes from the ancient, peeling ship.

“Nope.”

The name S.S. Bostonian is written in faded gold lettering on the side of the hulking cruise ship. I take in the shell-white hull, barnacles running up the front like scabs. Wide-eyed portholes line the side like a thousand dark eyes. From my vantage point on the jetty, I can see deckhands scrabbling around the deck. Cargo nets heavy with crates are loaded onto the ship by crane. Everything smells like an old sewer, ripe and thick. Tiny flies buzz around us in thick clouds.

“How old is that thing?”

Alastair shrugs. “Fifty? Maybe sixty years?”

“Oh.”

“You having second thoughts?”

I resolutely square my shoulders. “You wish.”

“Naw, not me.” He grins and tosses up a pebble, snatching it out of the air. “This is going to be fun.”

It had been a risk to meet up with Ali again so soon. My head had still been buzzing from the night before, my heart aching. But I have to do something, I’d reminded myself.

After Jared had left my room, I’d lain down on my bed to trace out my next steps. First, find Alastair. Get in touch with our family’s lawyer, who could arrange some funds for me. And after that? No good-byes. I wasn’t going to explain myself. I was just going to leave, to make a leap.

It would be more than a leap, though. It would take a miracle. Alastair hadn’t been successful at finding info on Margot’s passage to Russia. Then again, I realized belatedly, she and my parents would likely not have taken public transport. How had the good Russian aristocrat Leo Resnikov traveled to Dominion after all?

“We don’t need to go first-class,” I’d argued with Ali once I’d sold him on the idea.

He’d insisted. “Yes we do. I’m not going with you otherwise. Got it?”

I could hardly argue. It would seem odd if we ran into people who knew my family and I was staying in less than five-star accommodations. Though, as I take in the aging cruise liner, I’m no longer sure this was the best way to go.

I blow at the cloud of flies buzzing before my face. “Can’t we try something else?”

Alastair throws me a dark look. “This is the last cruiser leaving for Europe for another month.”

“Well then.” I give him a crooked smile. “That settles that.”

The ship would only get us as far as Port Alexandria. From there we’d need to make our own way across Europe and through the heart of Russia. And if my new friend thought it strange that a girl with Upper Circle resources would require his help, he kept his questions to himself. I told Alastair only what I thought he’d need to know. I was going to surprise my family—no lie there. Who would be very happy to see me…perhaps a slight exaggeration.

With a wink, Ali tucks his arm into mine and walks me up the gangplank. Over my other shoulder is thrown my small bag, filled with odds and ends: a couple changes of underwear, a few slippery dresses that take up almost no room. Three pairs of shoes and a sweater that’ll do. I’ll buy the rest, I reckon. Ships like this have floating stores for the rich and bored. It’s not the typical way an Upper Circle heiress travels, however.

And I’m not the only one who notices. “Where’s your baggage, then, Miss?” The purser tugs at his braid-rimmed hat. All around me, people stare. It’s not the kind of attention I want to draw to myself.

I give a frosty pout. “Aren’t the shops on board adequate?”

The purser looks uncertain. “And your parents are going to meet you at our final destination?”

I stare the poor man down, dismissing him with the wave of my hand. “I’m not in the habit of discussing my travel plans with employees.” It’s clearly a tone he’s heard before. He steps a pace back and pulls at one side of his long mustache.

“Of course, Miss,” he says, a hint of deference creeping into his tone.

I look over my shoulder, sparing one last troubled thought for the cool indigo eyes and messy blond mane of the man I was leaving behind. I rub at the invisible knot in my chest and hope it’s he who first finds the scratchy note I’d left on the neatly made bed.

You know where I’ve gone. Don’t try to find me. Thank you for everything. I’ll never forget you. L.—

I cross over the threshold onto the boat. And as I do, Alastair and I are welcomed on board the largest five-star floating hotel to survive the Plague.

It could be any dining room in Dominion’s Upper Circle if there weren’t so many tables plentiful with people. Fine green and white linens, waiters in crisp serving suits, and row after row of gleaming serving tureens. The ceilings are swept with fans and chandeliers that twinkle and chime with the rocking motion of the ship. The synthetic flowers are a bit much—pink carnations and the odd red rose—but I suppose even floating luxury palaces have their limits.

My dinner companion, on the other hand, is a fake rose dipped in gold. We’ve been on the ship for mere hours and already I’m worried about him. He looks handsome enough in the tux I’m sure he’s stolen from who knows where. He fills it out perfectly. And with his strong jaw and sweep of dark hair, the ladies can’t help but stare.

On the other hand, I’m trying to figure out where a Laster like Ali got his hands on such a luxury item. I eye him with suspicion and lean forward over the white china.

“Where did you get that tux, again?”

Alastair tips his head back and laughs. “I told you. I brought it with me.”

“In that little bag of yours? From where.”

Alastair points to his sleeve. “Notice the wrinkles? From Dominion, silly,” he teases.

I lean back in my chair and narrow my eyes at my travel companion. “You’d better not get us in trouble, Ali.” He laughs again. I notice the envious looks of women around the dining room. I can’t help but smile, and I realize what a long time it’s been. My heart has been careening wildly between crippling sadness at leaving Jared behind and the overwhelming peace I feel now that I’m finally on the move for my sister. I’m coming for you, Margot.

But it’s the relative stranger before me that I now need to understand. “Why are you helping me again?”

It’s the first time I’ve asked so bluntly. I reckon I’ve asked in other ways—I’ve definitely considered the financial benefit to his attachment to me. But I haven’t yet given the handsome young man any money. How can he trust I will? Unless he’s a swindler looking for a fortune, I can’t understand what he’s doing here with me.

His smile stretches, showing off his dimples. “I like adventures.”

“Come on, Ali,” I say softly. “Truth.”

“I don’t know, Lucy. I guess I’m just a sucker for Upper Circle girls in distress.”

I bark a short laugh and gaze out the glass walls of the dining room. The sea spreads out like a nubbly cobalt quilt. This is our first night at sea. I’ve become acquainted with the gentle rocking motion of the ship, feel less nauseous than when we’d first set off from shore. The sky is its usual leaden weight—just as it is over Dominion. But here, in the middle of nowhere on the ocean, I feel snug and safe. Every so often we crawl under a hole where a lighter patch of sky, almost blue, can be glimpsed. Every single time it feels like a miracle.

The ship is far more luxurious than I’d imagined from its rough and scabby exterior. Inside, the halls are stripped in dark, shiny wood and gleam with polished brass. The decks are long and filled with a surprising number of Upper Circle travelers, though luckily, no one on intimate terms with my family.

It makes a certain kind of sense. Too often there have been tales on the NewsFeed of planes dropping from the sky—captains taken sick in a locked cockpit and disappearing from radar with hundreds of Upper Circle families aboard. Still looking for luxurious modes of transport to the other nations, they’ve resorted to old-timey sea voyages where bodies can be buried at sea. And should one captain go down, another can instantly step into place with no harm done.

There are mercs here at sea, too. Men in crisp white uniforms stand guard strapped with semiautomatics at regular intervals in the hallways. Still, our father’s man, Shane, would as soon call the ship’s security lax, and I’m sure Storm would agree. Must spend a fortune transporting them everywhere. But they don’t ask questions, don’t frisk or point their guns at the frolicking members of the Upper Circle, many of whom have brought their own security aboard.

The higher decks are for the wealthiest of the set. Our cabins adjoin, Alastair’s and mine, among these. I didn’t ask whom the old gentleman was who sold his cabins to us at the last moment, nor how Alastair managed to find him. Some questions are better left unasked.

The first hours of the cruise I spent getting used to the two small but well-appointed rooms I’d be calling home for the next few weeks. My sitting room, all in light blue, has a chair and a writing desk across from a small couch. In the bedroom there is a double bed with cubbyholes to store books. But the cubbies are empty, as is the closet. I don’t quite know what to do with myself when I am there save reread Margot’s letter.

She might not be there—they might not be there—I remind myself. They could be anywhere. The place mark on Margot’s letter is my only lead. And it seems to be roughly the area where Resnikov is from.

“It’s more than mining, dear,” our mother had said absently to Margot and me as she patted the perfect skin on her well-made-up face. “I think he’s got some pharmaceuticals interests, some forestry. They still have trees over there,” she’d mentioned with a wave of a contemptuous hand.

“Where?” Margot had asked this. I’d noted at the time how curious she felt.

“Oh, somewhere near the border, I think. Not too far from civilization,” our mother replied with a delicate shiver.

But Russia was an even bigger subcontinent than Nor-Am. And all I had to go on was one tiny postmark. I stare down at my plate, trying not to hyperventilate. What the Holy Plague fire was I thinking?

“Lucy?”

I break free of my terrified train of thought. Alastair threads his hands together and stares at me with undisguised interest. He’s been a perfect gentleman thus far. Not pressing attentions, not prying too far. If he’s a conman, he’s far better than most.

Still, his attention is unnerving. I find myself fixing him with a glassy-eyed stare.

“Is there a reason you’re rudely staring at me?”

My plan doesn’t work. Alastair doesn’t turn his attention away. If anything, he grows keener. He sits forward until the shiny brush of his dark hair is only inches from me.

“Why are you trusting me like this? I’m a virtual stranger.”

“You’ve got a point. Maybe I should leave,” I mock, toying with the elegant silverware before me.

Alastair sweeps his brown hair to one side and leans on his hand, giving me a look so full of frank curiosity that I find myself blushing. “Seriously. Why have you decided to trust me?”

“Well, you did save my life.” I shrug. “And”—I decide to dole out some truth—“it’s not like I have a lot of options right now.”

There’s a long beat while Alastair absorbs this. “What I don’t get is, why are you alone?”

I look around. “Am I alone?”

“I mean—a woman like you.”

“A woman like me…”

“You’re intelligent, beautiful. Obviously from the very top of the U. C. Witty…”

“Don’t forget a major pain in the ass,” drawls a voice from over my shoulder.

Awareness prickles up and down my spine. Alastair stares at a figure behind me in confusion. But I know who I’ll find there.

I turn my head ever so slowly, only to find myself locked in to a pair of vivid indigo eyes.