Page 118 of Starchaser
I blink, stunned. “Henry—”
He laughs, running his hands over his face. “I’m not offering,” he says, giving me a somewhat comical look. “And I’m—” He grinds his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, either. But, it’s as if I see her everywhere I look.” He glances across the beach, at Margaret, and I realize he must be thinking of Dorothy—of how, in another life, he might have watched her beaming afterhisproposal. “I just don’t know what to feel.”
I frown, taking his hand in both of mine. “Give it time,” I say. “But, Henry, if you don’t stop with the sorrowsnap—”
“Ihavestopped,” he says, covering our clasped fingers with his other hand. His teeth worry his bottom lip, and he looks everywhere but at me. He adds quietly, “Your sister helped me through the withdrawals, while we were aboard theStarchaser.”
“O-oh?” I stutter, my eyes widening before I can school my expression into something less… surprised.
He raises his brows at me, a familiar, teasing smirk curling his lip. “This is what I’m talking about,” he says. “You could drop dead any minute and defect to the Underlings and you’re worried aboutmydestructive habits.”
“Stop being destructive, and I won’t have to worry.”
He gives me a dull look. “I’ll try,” he drawls. “If you promise torest.”
I start to pull away, but his grip is unyielding.
“Iwillrest,” I assure him, “after—”
Just then, someone calls out, “Aster!” and I turn to find Orella waving at me from across the beach, where the commotion that followed Jack’s proposal has passed, the crowd dispersed, my siblings nowhere to be seen.
“You’d better go,” Henry says, squeezing my hands before releasing me.
I rise onto my tiptoes, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. “You’re a prize, Henry Castor.”
He rolls his eyes, but his smile is full and genuine. “And you’re a princess among thieves, Aster Oberon.”
I make a rude gesture behind my back as I walk away, and his laughter follows me down the beach. Once again, his laughter fills me with hope. We survived theDeathwail. We can survive this, too.
Orella loops her arm through mine and leads me toward the harbor.
“Smile,” she says without moving her lips, as she waves at her people gathered near a stall selling wood-carved icons and bracelets made of braided leather. “We don’t have long before they wonder where we’ve gone.”
Instantly, her words send my mind into a whirl, my heartbeat kicking into a gallop. But I do as she says and plaster on a smile, speaking through my teeth when I whisper, “Am I in trouble?”
“Not as much trouble as I’m going to be in,” she whispers back, her pace increasing.
The sounds of the party fade beneath the crash of the waves as we make our way down the dock, toward theStarchaser. Orella moves quickly, stopping only once we’ve reached the gangplank, and even then, she looks over her shoulder before taking something from the pocket of her gown.
“I had an opportunity, once, to choose my own path,” she tells me, pressing the fabric-wrapped parcel into my palms, closing my fingers around the small disc-shaped object and covering my hand with hers. “I didn’t take it.”
She withdraws her hands from mine, and I unwrap the parcel, revealing the compass etched with my father’s handwriting. I gape at her. “But—why—”
“You would have tried to take it, anyway,” she says with a knowing look.
My eyes narrow suspiciously. “How do you know that?”
She smiles, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. “Because it’s something your father would have done.”
I look down at the compass, then at theStarchaserbehind me, before throwing my arms around her. She hugs me tight, stroking my hair.
“I wish—” My voice cracks, and I press my lips together to barricade the sob that threatens to slip out.I wish I could have known you my whole life, I want to say.
She seems to understand, because she draws back, pushing a few loose strands of hair out of my face. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other when you get home.”
I blink, wiping the tears from my eyes before they can fall in earnest, and take a deep breath. “I can’t crew a ship by myself.”
She nods slowly, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. “Go. Talk to him,” she says, jerking her chin in the direction of the brig. “Let me handle the rest.”
