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

 

 

Without waiting for an answer, I fled across the parlor to a room farthest from the captain’s . . . from my parents’ room. Shutting the door behind me, I sagged against it, but when I closed my eyes, I saw my mother’s face.

 

Had I truly saved her by giving Crowhurst the map of New York? It was hard to imagine. All my life, I’d been the reason she was gone—though I supposed I still was. And what might have happened if Crowhurst had left her in Hawaii? I would never know. I would never have to worry.

 

It was a gift, indeed, and a rare one. A life I’d never thought possible—a future that included my mother without erasing my past. And what now, on the horizon? They’d had a flat in Honolulu. Slate had told me that once; he’d been quite willing to trade the sea for true love. Could I bring them back to Hawaii on my own timeline? Perhaps Kash and I could take the Temptation then, out and over the deep blue sea to make our fortune, and come back home for the holidays.

 

The thought made me giggle—it was almost unreal, mundane and extravagant all at once. And yet Crowhurst had made it possible.

 

Why? Had he truly seen a need, or was Kashmir right? Was Crowhurst only reeling me in?

 

I pushed myself off the door as though I were poling a barge. The room was cozy enough, the walls washed in white plaster and the high ceiling made of wooden beams. There was a banked fire on the hearth and a lantern on the side table, and when I sat on the edge of the bed I sank at least four inches. I stood again, struggling with my dress before giving up and flinging myself down among the pillows.

 

As I lay there, Blake’s words echoed in my head—we have to know more. And it occurred to me that Crowhurst hadn’t told me how, exactly, he wanted me to help.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

 

KASHMIR

 

 

 

After Nix went to bed, I too stood to leave. Mr. Hart was still afire with dreams of remaking reality, and the tension between us was so thick it left room for only the smallest of talk. Or so I thought.

 

He watched me stand, his expression cool. “Best to let her be, don’t you think?”

 

It took me a moment to understand what he was getting at; when I did, an anger I’d never felt sprang up in me like a flame. “I’m not going after her,” I said, articulating each word.

 

“Where, then?”

 

“To get some answers,” I said. “Since Crowhurst isn’t giving us any.”

 

“I didn’t know you were interested in changing the world.”

 

“There are things I’d change, Mr. Hart, but not with a magic map.”

 

He peered at me the way he had that last night in Honolulu, looking down the barrel of his gun. “What bothers you so much, Mr. Firas?” he said softly. “Is it that Miss Song might regret her choice in Hawaii?”

 

“No,” I said, opening the door and slipping into the hall. “It bothers me that you might.”

 

I shut the door in his face, softer than I felt like. Out in the hall, the candles flickered in their sconces. I leaned against the cool stone wall and took a moment to breathe. Then I rubbed the skin of my throat—behind my eyes, I could still see Mr. Hart taking aim. How many times had I cheated death? Would our next dance be my last? For the first time in my history, I was concerned about my future, and about my past as well.

 

Khodaye man. Did Navigation truly have the power to destroy—and to create? I shuddered at the memory of the look in Crowhurst’s eyes as he’d claimed to be a god. Had Nix only made me in her image? Had I sprung fully formed from her head?

 

But this line of questioning was useless—the answers were not to be found within. And while Crowhurst might cloak his secrets in grandiose claims, Dahut seemed far more practical. There was a crack there, between them—one I hoped I could slip through. Her condition complicated matters, but Nix had mentioned a diary. I wrinkled my nose. A girl’s diary wouldn’t be the worst thing I’d ever stolen, though it would come close. But my honor was the least of my worries.

 

Gathering myself—the energy humming in my fingers, the anger simmering at the base of my skull, and the queasy bubbles in the pit of my stomach—I pulled them all tight into a knot in my chest and breathed in deep. It left me as I exhaled.

 

Then I threw back my shoulders and went boldly down the middle of the hall.

 

Although I would have preferred to be safe on the Temptation, being an invited guest in the castle did make my search easier. The servants I saw deferred, nodding to me, not meeting my eyes. I wandered as I walked; the castle sprawled, very large for such a small island. Finally, outside a wide door to the south wing, I was stopped by a guard with waxed blond mustaches. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 

The smile I gave him was genuine; a guard was a sign I was moving in the right direction. Besides, I’d come prepared. “I need to see the princess.”