“Which, of course, sent the Imperials into a madness for security. So the Emperor ordered his entire fleet to ready for battle against that one ship, our Supreme’s ship, which they did. Fast as lightning, they took orders — you know how they are. Can’t obey fast enough.”
Flora listened, rapt. She rarely saw Rake so pleased, his eyes so light.
“They don’t catch her, of course. No one’s catching the Leviathan unless she wants to be caught. They come back to their Emperor with their tails tucked and tell him they’ve failed.
“But by the time they get back, the Emperor is in a rage. His crown’s been stolen, and just before the wedding! He’s thundering mad, of course. The ship got away, and somehow with the crown to boot. People say it was magic, but it wasn’t.
“I’ll tell you what it was. It was just smarts. Long before the Leviathan was spotted, the Supreme came to Crandon. No Imperial knows what the Supreme looks like, so who’d sound the alarm? Then when the Leviathan came as a distraction, the Supreme could slip in and just steal that unguarded crown right from underneath the Emperor.” Rake chuckled.
Then he leaned forward and whispered to Flora: “They say the Supreme wears the Emperor’s crown.” He paused meaningfully. “But only to take a dump.”
Flora burst out laughing.
“You know what the moral of that story is?” Rake asked.
“Plan ahead?”
“Sure. But more importantly? If Imperials weren’t so hopped up on their own tales of military victories, they wouldn’t have been so quick to try to take down the unsinkable ship. It was a fool’s errand, and the Imperials were made the fools by their own stories of themselves.” He stood and gave Flora what might have been an affectionate pat on the back if it hadn’t been quite so firm, knocking the wind out of her. “Know your truth, not your story,” he said.
Flora nodded and hopped off the barrel. “I’ll keep that in mind. You know, in case I ever command my own ship.” She tried to say it with a laugh, but it just came out as pitiful.
“You never know.” He examined her, his face inscrutable. “You’ve the feel of destiny about you.”
The word worked through Flora’s mind, a rock tossed in the waves. Destiny. She felt that, with Rake’s belief in her, maybe it could be true. Maybe Florian was worth something, anything, after all.
Rake put his hands behind his back and walked off, the sound of his footsteps silenced by the wind.
The entire household was to see Evelyn off. All except Keiko, whom the Lady Hasegawa decided should watch over their home in their absence. Evelyn found Keiko in her room, now bare of all the things Evelyn valued, which had been packed neatly into her casket by Keiko herself. Keiko wept freely, and so she didn’t hear Evelyn come in.
For a moment, Evelyn was able to watch Keiko in a way she never had before — unimpeded by etiquette or shame. She was small and lovely in her plainness, most beautiful with her hair down.
Evelyn backed out the door as quietly as she could, saying nothing. What good could her comfort possibly do Keiko now? But the floor creaked beneath her step, and Keiko whirled around.
“Hello, Keiko.” Stupid.
“You mean goodbye, my lady.”
“Don’t call me that. Not now.”
Keiko looked at her feet and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “What’ll I do without you?” Her voice was a whisper.
“You’ll keep your hands clean.”
Keiko made a noise that may have been a snort of laughter or a sob. She stepped forward and rested her cheek on Evelyn’s shoulder, her breath warm against her neck. “I love you.”
Evelyn pulled Keiko close, savoring the heat of her body, the familiar curve of her waist. Keiko was lovely, but love? Evelyn wasn’t sure.
“I love you, too,” Evelyn managed.
She kissed Keiko, gently, on her uneven lips. They were dry and soft, and Evelyn wished she had time to kiss her until she was sure of how she felt.
“You should go,” Keiko said. “The carriage is waiting.”
Evelyn kissed Keiko between her eyebrows before she stepped away. She could hear the carriage bell ringing below, likely the result of her parents’ impatience to have her gone.
“Goodbye, Keiko.” She kissed Keiko’s fingers and turned to run downstairs.
Evelyn wasn’t minding her step, and her flight led her directly into her father. The Lord had come looking for Evelyn when she had not responded to the bell, and he had clearly witnessed more than Evelyn would have liked of her tearful farewell to Keiko.
The Lord Hasegawa dusted himself off, as though the collision with his only daughter had sullied him. His was not a countenance that bore much warmth ever. But now it was full of disdain, disgust, and — as usual — disapproval.
“Oh, don’t look so aghast. Your mother has always suspected you were crooked. I’ve never much cared. Had you been a son, this might have had some importance. You might have been of some importance. Alas for us both, I suppose.”
A stab to her chest. The air crushed from her lungs. Too pained to speak, even to cry, Evelyn allowed herself to be led to the carriage by the father who was so indifferent to her and the mother who hated her. They rode in silence to the docks, the cobblestone streets rumbling beneath them. Distantly, Evelyn could hear the plaintive cries of seabirds.
The ship was called the Dove, and Evelyn loved it at once. She was grand and fine, with polished wood on her railings that shone in the afternoon light. But most beguilingly, the figurehead of a beautiful woman stood on the prow of the ship, her head bent as though in prayer. She was lovely in her solemnity, if a little sad.
It was real now, her leaving. There was no more denying it. Her casket was on the ship, tucked into her quarters, which, as the Lady Hasegawa had been quick to point out, directly abutted the cabin where the Lady Ayer was staying. The Lady Ayer and the Lady Hasegawa were old friends, and the Lady Ayer had apparently promised to keep a close eye on Evelyn.
While Evelyn was curious and excited to begin her brief life at sea, she found the prospect of constant surveillance unpleasant.
It’d be nearly half a year aboard the ship, and it promised to be the only period of independence Evelyn would have in her life. She’d always gotten along well with strangers, and this ship promised a whole new batch of them. The stories they might have! Men loved to brag, and Evelyn loved a good story. She’d write them all down and send them to Keiko. If she could track Keiko down, once she left her family’s employ.
But unfortunately, the Lady Ayer would be there, poised like an owl to watch Evelyn’s every move.
The Crandon docks were a faraway thing now, a gray smudge. Only the First Emperor’s statue was still distinguishable. They said no matter where in the Known World you went, you were never far from the reach of the Nipran Empire, of Imperial influence. Evelyn had always lived at the heart of that empire, though, safe and warm within the luxurious confines of its bustling and orderly capital. Despite herself, Evelyn felt fear creeping into her mind, warning at a whisper. You will not be so safe anymore, it said.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” the Lady asked.
Evelyn nodded absently. The Lady Ayer, who was tall, thin, and near the age of her mother, placed a hand on Evelyn’s back. She had the unmistakable stiff accent of a true Crandon native and the flawless posture and elocution of the upper class. She was exactly who her mother wished Evelyn was, but Evelyn saw none of herself when she met the Lady’s eyes.