Page 147 of The Queens and the Kings
“Sails ready! We’re leaving.”
The ship was well underway, and the mainland a speck, before Selma and Henrik spoke again. He sat on a crate in front of his berth, his pack open in front of him. Contents spewed out the top, sitting across his bed, when she rapped on the door.
He glanced up, not entirely surprised to see her. With a welcoming smile, he motioned her to an empty chair. She lowered into it, leaving the door open. It swung gently back and forth with the lightest creak. Selma surveyed his scattered belongings and set her hands in her lap. Her toes kept her perched on the edge of the seat.
“Did you get settled?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you for helping me find a berth.” After a musing pause, she said, “Noah—I mean Einar—was very surprised to see me.”
Henrik nodded.
“I’m sorry if my coming was too much of a shock. I shouldn’t have gotten so emotional. It’s just that . . . his mother was a good friend of mine. Perhaps one of my only friends. To see him . . . it . . .”
Selma shook her head.
“It was understandable,” Henrik concluded.
She laughed lightly. “Thank you. What are you doing?”
“Inventory.”
“Oh?”
He hesitated. Deciding that Selma had weathered more difficult things than his obsession with being prepared for anything, he said, “I like to be ready. Before we land on Stenberg, I wanted to rearrange my pack so it’s easier to grab . . . things.”
Weapons,he thought.
“Even though Stenberg is days away?”
He nodded.
“Did I understand your review of the plans correctly? While you’re on Stenberg, the rest of the fleet will remain outside harboring the refugees, correct?”
“Yes.”
Lips pursed, she nodded. Her eyes trawled the room and she hummed daintily, reminding him of a young woman. She must be at least mildly nervous to return to Stenberg and visit ghosts from her past. If so, she betrayed nothing but pleasure at being present.
“Why did you really want to come?” he asked.
She took his question in stride. “I want to see Stenberg, but I also want to find your father. If he’s still alive. I trust you toremove His Glory and pave the way for my return, for only he has prevented me from doing so all these years.”
The wordfatherripped through him, as if an invisible barrier had been preventing him from acknowledging his presence all of his life. It blazed a trail of pain.
“I don’t know what happened to him after they sent me away,” Selma continued, inspecting a knife sheath of braided leather. “The rumors of his death may or may not be true. He might be there, he might not. I . . . want to look.”
Her hollow words deepened the crater in Henrik’s chest. All those years, hearing her voice ripple through his memories. Beckon him. Remind him. Cast a weight on his shoulders too dense for a child. In that time, he’d rarely thought of his father. Tried to tuck him into a box he didn’t consider, because how could he? He knew the origin of his denial. If he had a father, that father failed him, too.
From what little he recalled, that fatherdidn’tfight. But Selma fought. She lost everything, hoping to save her son. Since she couldn’t save him, she at least impressed a memory that haunted him. Her plan worked.
Selma shook her head. “Time makes fools of all of us.”
The sincere frustration in her tone surprised Henrik. Until now she’d been easygoing, emotional, simple. Easy enough to figure out, this woman who had lived so quietly.
“Fools?”
“To return to Stenberg?” Selma sighed. “It’s a fool’s hope to find Cristan. And yet . . .youhoped to find me all these years.” She spread her hands with a wry smile. “Here we are. I can’t help but hope.”
Why?lingered on the tip of his tongue.Why see him again? What’s the point after so long?He wouldn’t ask. Einar had never questionedwhyregarding his search for Selma. Besides, he would have searched out Britt. Britt, whom he’d only known afew months, at best. Time didn’t matter. He’d claw his way into her life, search every house, to locate her.
