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

 

 

Bee rolled her eyes. “Everyone could tell, my girl.”

 

Slate frowned. “Tell what?”

 

“There’s something wrong,” Lin said, setting down her tea. “What happened, Nix?”

 

I took a breath. Where to start? “Crowhurst kidnapped James Cook to try to change the past.”

 

My words were met with a fragile silence. Slate was the first to break it. “Who?”

 

“The first European to map Hawaii! Crowhurst is trying to stop him from doing it. He has him locked up in the pit below the castle.”

 

Slate leaped to his feet. “What the hell?”

 

“That’s why Crowhurst wanted us to stay.” My face felt hot, flushed. “He wanted to see what would happen to me. Or to Lin.”

 

“I’ll kill him,” Slate said, rolling up his sleeves, the tattoos writhing as he flexed his arms. “I’ll choke him with that ugly chain he wears.”

 

Bee grunted her approval as she sat back on the chaise, stroking the scar at her throat. “Best not to leave enemies at your back.”

 

Rotgut waved a hand. “Excuse me, but wouldn’t it be best to focus on rescuing Cook?”

 

“Blake should be bringing him to the ship right now.

 

Lin frowned. “And Kashmir?”

 

I closed my hand around the pearl pendant of my necklace. “Kashmir was going to try to rescue Dahut.”

 

Rotgut nodded. “If anyone can rescue a princess, it’s Kashmir.”

 

“On a normal day,” I said. “But I don’t think Crowhurst will let her out of his sight.”

 

“And we have to get Cook out of here,” my father said, his voice urgent.

 

“There’s something else—” I began, but Slate swore again. I bit my lip, glancing toward the rippled window, to gauge the height of the sun. “It’s like Crowhurst said. I think the myth is ending.”

 

“What the hell does that mean?”

 

“The myth of Ker-Ys, Dad. The flood.” I swallowed—the thought was chilling, especially with Kashmir still wandering around the castle. “Gwenolé couldn’t get past the edge of the map, so she’s on her way back to the city. And there’s a storm coming—if the story ends as written, Dahut will open the gate at high tide.”

 

“I thought Crowhurst changed all that,” Slate said.

 

“He thought he could, but there’s no evidence it’s even possible.”

 

“Evidence?” Lin cocked her head. “Look around. Everyone here will tell you a story about the time their fortunes changed.”

 

I followed her gesture—to Rotgut, who’d come aboard to escape the expectations of his former life; to Bee, who’d avenged her wife with Slate’s gun; to my father, who’d lost my mother and found her again. “But it’s not a fortune,” I said, still unsure. “It’s myth. It’s history.”

 

“Yeah?” Slate stood. “And who writes history, Nixie?”

 

“The victors,” I said. I knew the quote.

 

“Damn right,” Slate said. “Who cares what history says, or fate or fortune or whatever? We’re going to fight it, and we’re going to win.”

 

“Right,” I said softly, trying to believe it the way my father did. I had to, didn’t I? That was the most important part. “Right.”

 

“So what’s the plan, then?” Bee said.

 

I straightened my shoulders, galvanized. “We’ve got to get back to the ship and make ready to sail. Kash and Blake will meet us there with Cook and Dahut. Then we’ll make a brief stop in Boeotia before bringing Cook back to London.”

 

“Why Boeotia?”

 

“Crowhurst erased Cook’s memory,” I said. “The cure is there.”

 

“Fine,” Slate said, waving away my explanation; he’d never been one for complexity. “Do you have a map of Cook’s era?”

 

“It’s his native time. He’ll take the helm through the Margins, and we should arrive right back in London.”

 

“Right. Okay.” Slate grinned at me. “Good plan.”

 

“Thanks, Dad.”

 

He stood then, clapping his hands together. “Are we ready?” Without waiting for an answer, he strode across the parlor and yanked the door open. But in the hall, two guards turned to face him with stony stares and crossed pikes.

 

They had not been there before.

 

Slate looked them up and down. “Get out of the way, dammit.”

 

“No one leaves,” said the one on the left. “Order of the king.”

 

My stomach turned to ice. Why had Crowhurst sent guards? What had happened to Cook, to Blake, to Kashmir? But Slate cursed again and slammed the door. “Where is Kash when you need him? Anyone else have a knife?”

 

Lin gave Slate a stony look. “You’re not going to brawl to the front gate.”