The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)

 

 

Kash tapped his finger on his chin. “But Dahut is the name of the mythical princess.”

 

“That’s the weird thing.”

 

He laughed. “Yes, that’s the weird thing.”

 

Tucking the phone back into my pocket, my hand went to my pearl pendant; I slid it back and forth on the chain. If there was no king, then Dahut was not a princess; if there was no princess, no one was fated to flood the city. Perhaps the map was safe to use. But was it worth it? I couldn’t deny that I had questions—and more than that, I longed for this adventure. A journey to a strange utopian isle. But there were more pressing issues at hand than the mysterious fate of a mythical island.

 

Reluctantly, I dropped the pendant with a sigh. That was when I noticed Kash watching me, his eyes expectant. “If you’re not going to read it, at least let me,” he said.

 

“What?”

 

Quick as a wink, he snatched the envelope from my hand; I’d completely forgotten about it in my study of the map. He slid his finger under the flap and unfolded the paper. “‘Dear Nixie,’” he began, and grimaced—even from the back, I could see the letter was written in nearly indecipherable cursive. “‘Please accept my most . . . sincere apologies for . . . borrowing your father’s map’?”

 

“What?” I snatched the letter back from him, rage pooling in my stomach. “The gall—”

 

“Keep reading!”

 

My voice was tight with anger, but I continued aloud. “‘I had to ensure you would accept my invitation, as I have great need of your assistance in Ker-Ys. I have grand plans; already I have saved the island from its fate. I think it will be of particular interest to you and your father that, using the skills we share, I’ve conceived of a way to change—’”

 

I stopped then, the end of the sentence sticking to the back of my tongue.

 

“Change what, amira?”

 

My lips moved, but no sound came out. The rain drummed on the canvas overhead, falling so hard that the drops bounced from the concrete, wetting the toes of my shoes. The air was much cooler now, and smelled like minerals. Water flooded the gutters and ran in rivulets across the pavement.

 

“Amira? Change what?”

 

I cleared my throat and forced the words out. “The past.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

Kashmir shook his head. “This is the most obvious con I’ve ever seen.”

 

I glanced up from the letter. “A con?”

 

“Step inside, I’ll show you wonders!” He gave me a grand gesture and a huckster’s smile. “Payment up front, of course.”

 

Scanning Crowhurst’s letter again, I shook my head. “He doesn’t mention money at all.”

 

“Your talents are more valuable. Remember, amira, this has happened before.”

 

The air was cool now, but at his words, I went cold. “This isn’t the same as Hawaii.”

 

“No? Tell me. Utopia—isn’t that another word for paradise?”

 

“Paradises are generally god-given. Utopias are man-made.”

 

“I trust men even less than I trust gods. Come, amira. Doesn’t this seem a little too convenient?”

 

In spite of his words, excitement kindled a flame in my chest. “But she said there was no king—that’s very different from the myth. And if that was a new version of Dahut, he must have changed something.”

 

“Version?” Kashmir stared at me, disgust thick in his voice. “What does that mean?”

 

“Well. You know. What I said before—how the myth talks about the princess being . . .” I made a vague, voluptuous gesture with my hands. “And she’s still alive. I mean, if he’s saved her, maybe I can—”

 

“What I mean is, how can a person have versions?”

 

“All myths have versions,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, in some stories her name isn’t even Dahut, it’s Ahes. That’s one of the things that makes it a myth. It’s only once everyone agrees on one version of the past that it becomes history.”

 

“But that’s because people tell different stories, isn’t it? Not because there are different versions walking about!”

 

“I don’t know. Why does it bother you so much? I mean, you’ve been on the ship when we’ve visited mythological maps. You even came from a . . .” My voice trailed off at the look in his eyes. “Oh.”

 

Kashmir turned his head, staring at the falling rain. I chewed my lip. For a long time, neither of us spoke.

 

“Some people say that everyone has a doppelg?nger,” I offered at last. “That’s like a different version of you. Like a twin. But usually evil.” I frowned as the next thought came. “Or sometimes just a harbinger of bad luck.”

 

“That’s not helpful.”