Alessandra put her hands on her stomach and turned away, eyes victorious. “We’ll see,” she called over her shoulder.
That was all the goodbye I got.
After she was gone, I wobbled to Daddy’s side, and for a moment, there was no sound between us but the gentle lap of waves against the Beholder’s hull and the words trapped in his throat.
Abruptly, he pulled me into a tight hug. I stifled a whimper and hung on to him, gripping his reedy frame, wondering if they’d still send me away with this ship full of strangers if I never let go.
“Be careful,” he said quietly. “And get home, quick as you can.”
A tremor twitched his shoulder, and he released me. I fought tears, furiously memorizing his face—the green eyes and freckled skin like mine, the graying stubble he hadn’t shaved this morning.
When he kissed my forehead and followed my stepmother off the Beholder, I watched him walk away, head bowed. I swallowed and blinked to keep my tears from falling.
I was on the verge of collapse when my godmother descended upon me, crushing me in an embrace. “Everything is ready,” she said breathlessly. “I’ve done everything I can.”
“Everything’s ready?” The edges of my voice were raw, my fingers tight around the shoe in my hand. Its beading scratched at my fingers. “My bags are ready. Perrault has that stupid folder. But what about me?” Godmother Althea’s gaze darted to the file in the protocol officer’s grip, but Captain Lang was already approaching, the set of his lips apologetic, as they had been the night before. We had no time.
It wasn’t Lang’s fault, but my hands fisted themselves, frustrated—at him. At Alessandra. At the slowly rising sun, for not ceasing to move so I could stay where I belonged.
Whatever my godmother said, I wasn’t ready.
Althea turned back to me, habited frame tense and vigilant, eyes blazing. “Yes. Yes, you are,” she said quickly. “You have a keen mind and a kind heart. You have everything you need.”
She believed I would make it through this trip.
I will get through it, I swore silently. And I will get back to them.
The captain cleared his throat in our direction, raising his voice over the crowd that had gathered on the pier. Out on the dock, the Council formed a line behind Alessandra and my father, all but Gidcumb looking like they’d enjoyed too much Appalachia bourbon the night before. “Sister—Seneschal-elect—we have to get going.”
I put my free hand on Captain Lang’s arm. “Please.” The word was a breath and a plea. “Just—please. One minute.”
The captain watched me for a long beat. His expression was composed, but there was reluctance in his pause, in the push of his fist into the opposite palm. “Of course.”
“Godmother.” I turned back to her, desperate. “The prayer for travelers—before I go.” I’d heard nuns and priests speak it a hundred times over ships leaving port and the rare family that moved away. I never imagined she’d say it for me.
As she whispered the short plea to God into my shoulder and hair, her words hemmed my fraying edges, bracing me where I threatened to come apart. I stood quiet in her arms, thumbing the shoe in my hand.
And then it was time.
Trumpets rang out from the dock. A bottle of wine hung from my stepmother’s elegant fingers like a man on a gallows. One end of a rope was tied around its neck; the other, around the prow.
“Potomac,” Alessandra called over the crowd. “Our seneschal-elect goes in search of a husband across the sea. Brave Selah,” she said, dark eyes staring me down, “do your duty to Potomac, and don’t come back alone.”
Come back engaged, she might as well have said, or don’t come back at all. The Council behind her was a moat, a blockade, an iron gate locking me out of my home until I’d done her bidding.
Alessandra spoke the words like a death sentence or a curse, releasing the bottle of wine as the final piece of her incantation. It swung in a wide arc and smashed a gory stain over the Beholder, leaving the girl carved on its prow bleeding.
My father had never looked so defeated.
Einmal im Winter, als es steinhart gefroren hatte
und Berg und Tal vollgeschneit lag,
machte die Frau ein Kleid von Papier, rief das Mädchen und sprach:
“Da, zieh das Kleid an,
geh hinaus in den Wald
und hol mir ein Körbchen voll Erdbeeren. . . .”
Dann gab sie ihm noch ein Stückchen hartes Brot und sprach:
“Davon kannst du den Tag über essen,”
und dachte:
“Draußen wird’s erfrieren und verhungern
und mir nimmermehr wieder vor die Augen kommen.”
—Die drei Männlein im Walde
Once, in winter, when everything was frozen as hard as a stone,
and hill and vale lay covered with snow,
the woman made a frock of paper, called her step-daughter, and said,
“Here, put on this dress
and go out into the wood,
and fetch me a little basketful of strawberries. . . .”
Then she gave her a little piece of hard bread, and said,
“This will last thee the day,”
and thought,
“Thou wilt die of cold and hunger outside,
and wilt never be seen again by me.”
—The Three Little Men in the Wood
8
THE BEHOLDER
Godmother Althea blew a kiss as the Beholder sailed away through the fog. I watched Daddy—broken expression, bent head—until the mist on the water swept him from my view.
When my home was out of sight, I stood by myself, avoiding the gazes of the sailors hustling around the deck and imagining how ridiculous I must look, filthy and staggering around in a ruined dress, one glittering shoe in hand. A complete disaster, to the eye discerning or oblivious.
Not that it mattered what they thought. These were Alessandra’s people, not mine.
Captain Lang didn’t turn his head as I wobbled near, arms akimbo so the ship’s woozy sway wouldn’t send me sprawling. But he rapped his ink-stained knuckles on a barrel beside his place at the helm, and I sat, drawing up my legs beneath me to hide my dirty feet.
He glanced away from the horizon for a long moment, studying my face. “You had no idea before last night, did you?”
“None,” I said quietly. “I don’t like this—feeling blind. Not knowing the plan.”
Lang’s dark eyes shifted under his lashes. “What can I tell you?” he asked quietly. “What would help you not feel so lost?”
I was missing so many details. There were so many questions I wished I had the courage to ask.
Where am I going?
What am I going to do?
When can I go home?
But all these questions felt unwieldy. Their answers would be large enough to crush me. I wasn’t ready for them.
“Is the Beholder your ship?” I asked instead.
Captain Lang’s mouth quirked. “No. It’s yours.”
The curve of his thin lips made something in my chest flutter. I gave my head a slight shake. “Beg pardon?”
“Well, it’s Potomac’s, anyway.”
“Oh.”
Alessandra had been so determined to get rid of me she’d bought a ship.