The Girl from Everywhere (The Girl from Everywhere, #1)

Slate barged through the hall and down the stairs. I practically had to run to keep up, red petals from my lei falling in our wake. I heard the startled murmurs of the crowd, felt the stares like spiders on my shoulders, and prayed Kashmir would be quick. My prayers were answered; as we got to the front steps, the carriage was pulling up to the drive.

But Blake wasn’t far behind. “Wait!” he said as Slate climbed in. Kash reached down to help me up, staring coldly at Blake all the while. “Miss Song!”

But I willed myself not to react. The captain pounded on the canopy, the driver put the whip to the horses, and we rolled away, leaving Blake on the steps.

We reached the road, and the captain slammed his open palm down on the velvet, his face white with rage. “What the hell were you thinking? Did you want him to destroy the map?”

“That would solve my problems,” I said, but Slate had already rounded on Kashmir.

“And you! How could you double-cross me like this? You’re lucky that map is safe, or your worthless carcass might not be.”

Fury boiled in my breast as Kashmir paled. “Captain, I’m sorry—”

“It wasn’t him, Slate!”

“Oh, sure, I believe that,” he retorted. “The professional thief had nothing to do with the heist!”

“A professional thief wouldn’t have botched it,” I snapped back. “It was completely my idea.”

“And he went along with it?” Slate jabbed a finger into Kashmir’s chest. “You better get your loyalties straightened out quick, kid. If I didn’t need you on this job, you’d be swimming to your next destination.”

I stared at my father. “Slate. You can’t honestly be planning to go through with the theft.”

“I can do whatever I damn well choose!”

“Blake knows something’s up.”

“Who?”

“The boy we just left on the steps! He’s suspicious, and he’ll report you before you can get near the treasury.”

“Hart’s son? Why would he do that?”

“Because he doesn’t want his father to destroy something important,” I said pointedly.

Slate’s eyes widened. “Did you tell him what was going on? Nixie.” He took me roughly by the shoulders, his nose inches from mine. “Did you tell him?”

“No.” My voice was calm and I did not flinch; he leaned back, eased up. “But I should.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Why not? I could even make the report myself. The king will arrest the Hawaiian League. The kingdom will be safe. You won’t have to worry about the money, and I won’t have to worry about the map.”

Slate raised his finger, pointing it at me in a silent accusation. Then he curled his hand into a fist and brought it to his mouth, as though to keep himself from speaking, and the hollow rhythm of the horse’s hooves seemed very loud in the night. Finally he spoke, though I did not hear what he said.

“What?”

“I’ll teach you,” he repeated, a hoarse whisper. “Help me and I’ll teach you how to Navigate.”

I scoffed. “You’re lying.”

“No,” he said quickly. “I swear.”

I looked into his eyes, and I believed him. But rather than the triumph I expected, I was filled with a cold fear, squirming in the pit of my stomach. “You must really believe this map is the one.”

“I know it is.”

I wet my lips. “If you’re so sure, why should I risk it?”

“Is it such a risk?” he said, his voice faltering. “Would a life here be so terrible?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kashmir turn his face. I clenched my jaw, but Slate pressed forward.

“Or the life you want, then—the escape you’ve got planned,” he said desperately. My mouth fell open; I never thought he’d acknowledge it so openly. Suddenly, irrationally, I wished I’d let Joss tell me my fortune.

Slate plowed on. “Not a risk, then, Nixie. A gamble. And think of the reward.” He took my hand, and his was so hot—mine so cold—I pulled away. “Sometimes a person has to let go of something to take hold of something else. You always have to choose what’s more important.”

“Oh?” I swallowed, curling my fingers on my lap, holding fistfuls of silk. “And what is more important to you, Captain? Lin or me?”

He stared at me for a long time, but he didn’t answer my question. Then he put his forehead against the canopy support and stared at the trees. When Slate spoke again, his voice was changed, the tone simple, the passion gone. “I have to try, Nix. If I don’t, what am I? I love her. Do you understand? I can’t just let her go. And maybe—even if it does change everything—maybe you’d be happier too. Did you ever think of that? If none of this had happened? If I’d never disappointed you? If I could do it all over again. I could have been the best father. I still could.”

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