Page 83 of As Many Souls as Stars
‘You have already won, then,’ Miriam said, displeased.
Rosamund smiled. Trailing a hand along the sleeve of Miriam’s suit, she said, ‘Yes. I suppose I have.’
She turned to leave. Miriam allowed her to without protest, watching her hips swaying, silver beads glittering with the movement of her dress. The ship lurched with another wave, and a beam of red light passed over the deck.
At her feet, the shadows seethed curiously. Miriam kicked them away.
Halfway down the promenade, Rosamund turned to look at her over her shoulder. ‘Well?’
‘Well?’ Miriam echoed.
‘Aren’t you coming?’
‘Coming where?’
‘Dinner,’ Rosamund said. ‘It’s been centuries, Miriam. Shouldn’t we reacquaint ourselves?’
Rosamund requested the private room adjoining the first-class dining hall; the kitchens were reluctant—it was late, dinner service was nearly over—but she mentioned her husband’s name, flashed the diamond on her finger, and they relented.
White tablecloth, gold candles, Miriam in a tuxedo looking for all the world like she was about to pull a cigarette holder from her jacket and blow smoke rings at the chandelier. The pianist in the other room was hacking out ‘Who’s Sorry Now’ with the grim efficiency of a dockworker hauling boxes. The sound filtered through the closed door, muffled and tinny.
It was a set menu: the predinner cocktail was a pale green-gold colour, scented sharply with citrus, each glass tinted blue and painted with a stylised rooster. Rosamund—who was already half drunk on champagne and scotch—took a sip to hide her nerves. Then she put the glass down on the table and bent over to laugh.
Miriam said, smirking, ‘Is it that bad?’
Rosamund snorted. ‘No, it’s just… It’s a Corpse Reviver.’
‘Hm?’
‘The cocktail. It’s called a Corpse Reviver.’
‘How appropriate,’ Miriam drawled. She took a sip, wrinkling her nose, and put the glass back down.
‘Do youlikefood?’
‘Not particularly,’ Miriam said. ‘But I still have the urge to eat, even if it does little for me.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I am always hungry,’ she replied.
The appetizer came then: oysters on the half shell, served on a bed of chipped ice, gilded at their sharp edges with flecks of gold leaf. Rosamund took one between two fingers, trying not to think of how the waiter must have cracked them open, of smiling knives and bleeding skin. She tipped it down her throat, a swallow of lemon acidity and bitter sea salt. She could feel Miriam’s eyes following the bob of her throat.
‘You aren’t going to try one?’ Rosamund asked her. ‘Too salty?’
Miriam pushed her plate towards her. The ship hit a wave, making the candle between them flicker. ‘Watching you is more than enough.’
Well, then. It wasn’t as if Rosamund needed to watch her figure. She had Miriam’s oysters, too, licking the brine from her fingers afterwards. The silence between them had grown so weighty that Rosamund wondered if it would plummet like an anchor through the floorboards beneath them, stopping theMonumentalin its tracks.
The waiters took away their plates. Once they were gone, Miriam said, ‘This new age has made you more… brazen.’
‘It wasn’t the new age, Miriam. It was you.’
‘Me?’
Rosamund smirked. ‘Everything you did to me, as Esther… Well. There’s only so far you can bend someone before they snap.’
‘Is that what you’ve done, darling? You’ve snapped?’
