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

 

 

“Amira . . .” How to explain? I took a deep breath. The night air filled me, cold as indifference. “All my life, I’ve never dared to call anything mine. It was too permanent an idea, in a world where nothing lasted. All I had were the thoughts in my head. The feelings in my heart. But now I don’t know if those are mine either.”

 

“What do you mean, Kash?”

 

I tapped my hands on the brass—would she ever understand? “Haven’t you ever wondered why you love me?”

 

She looked at me, surprise on her face. “No.”

 

The answer brought me up short. “Really?”

 

“There are a million things I wonder, but never that.”

 

I opened my mouth . . . closed it. “Why not?”

 

“Because . . . well.” She bit her lip. “Because it’s so obvious. The answer always comes to me before I have the chance to ask myself the question. Why? Don’t you know why you love me?”

 

“I know that I’m happiest at your side,” I said fervently. “I know that when we’re apart, my heart is with you, when we disagree I still want you near. It’s like I was made for you, amira, but I don’t know why.”

 

“Kashmir . . .” She laughed a little in disbelief. “That’s . . . that’s what love looks like.”

 

“But is it only a trick of Navigation?” I asked, nearly pleading. “And if so, what is truly mine?”

 

“I am.”

 

Her words took me by surprise. She said it so simply—so quiet, so true. Only two words, three letters, one breath, but never had a promise held more meaning. She turned to me then, and in her eyes, I saw not oblivion, but infinity, and the stars were not as bright as her smile.

 

“Nix,” I said, and her name was a poem. She tilted her face up to the dawn; my lips met hers. She pressed close to me, and then there was no past, no future—only now. No her, no me. Only us.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

 

As I woke in Kashmir’s arms, I was half afraid it had been a dream.

 

But the memories came back slowly, teasingly. Kissing on the deck—pulling him toward the ladder. Sliding down after him, into his arms, my back pressed against the rungs for another breathless kiss. Letting him lead me toward his cabin as though it were a dance—a two-step where he retreated and I advanced, our hands and eyes locked, and the music was the pounding of my heart.

 

He’d spun me through the door, stepping in behind me. His lips brushed my shoulders, my neck, the soft skin behind my ear. He murmured sweet words in half a dozen languages, and though I didn’t know them, I understood them all. His fingers were deft on the pearl buttons of my dress; he undid them one by one, down to the small of my back. Then his hands on my skin, and tangled in my hair.

 

He had shrugged off his jacket. My hands slid up under his white shirt, along the rippled muscles of his stomach, and then—and then—

 

“Good morning, amira.”

 

I froze at the sound of his voice, then melted again at the look in his eyes. His hair was tousled, his smile was warm and sleepy. Bright daylight streamed through the porthole and shone on his golden skin. “Barely,” I said, my voice husky.

 

“Barely good?” His eyebrows shot up.

 

“Barely morning, I meant.”

 

“Ah, that’s a relief!” He propped himself up on one elbow among the silk pillows, and the blanket slipped dangerously low around his waist. I averted my eyes, then reverted them surreptitiously. I could hear the wicked grin in his voice. “It could get barer, if you like.”

 

I slung a pillow at him. He batted it aside, then wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into a kiss that stopped time. I had seen countless worlds and boundless horizons, but nothing as wondrous as the space within the circle of his arms. It was only the ringing of the bells that brought me back to Ker-Ys.

 

Trying to catch my breath, I drank in the scent of his skin, clove and copper, as the rumble of the gates reverberated through the hull. He kissed my cheek, my jaw, my throat. “If the tide’s going out, it’s nearly noon,” I whispered as the ship rocked on the swells. “We should probably get back to the castle.”

 

He brushed my hair back with a feather-light touch, and I never wanted to move again. “We probably should,” he murmured in my ear, though I’d already forgotten what it was we should do. I kissed him again, deep and languid at first, but he slid one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my neck and pulled me close. A warm current flooded through me, and a feeling in my stomach like bubbles. I arched my back, pressing my body against his, like the sea reaching for the setting sun.

 

“Hello?”

 

Kash and I both blinked. The voice was familiar, and it came from outside the ship. For a long moment, neither he nor I responded, though I was certain the pounding of my heart was loud enough for anyone to hear. Then came the sound of footsteps on the gangplank, and Kashmir called out, “Just give us a minute, Dahut!”