She shakes her head, as if chasing away the sympathy. “I spoke the rites for him as we made our way down the river,” she says quietly. “Now I will do as he taught me, and focus on what is best for my people.”
“What’s best for your people right now begins with rest,” I say.
She raises her gaze, eyes hollow. “How can I sleep?” she whispers. “Every time I close my eyes, I see him. Or Elkisa. Or the temple’s devotees, cowering in fear.”
I keep my eyes on hers, willing her to see that she’s not alone. “I’ll bring some of the blankets up on deck. We’ll talk about something else. Until you feel like you can sleep.”
There are blankets and cushions down below, but it’s too stuffy to want to sleep there. I bring up as many as my arms will carry and begin laying them out on the deck. Once I’ve made us a little nest, I ease down with a groan to pat the spot beside me.
She hesitates for a moment, and the cat immediately takes advantage of the pause to claim her spot for himself. It breaks the tension, and with a soft laugh she scoops him up, cradling him in her arms as she eases back to rest her head against a cushion. “Tell me about your family, North,” she says.
That I can do. That, I can distract her with.
“My family’s very small,” I begin. “There’s just me, my bloodmother, my heartmother, and my grandfather. My bloodmother, Beatrin, is definitely the strict parent. She’s a power player, the real politician in the family. My heartmother, Anasta, is softer. Because of that, people tend to underestimate her, and I think that’s the way she prefers it.”
“What about your grandfather?” she asks.
“He’s the kind of king I wish I could be one day,” I say. “He’s wise, and his people love him. I love him. When he’s scattered to the clouds, I think Beatrin will be a different sort of leader. And after her …” And there I trail off, because right now the question of whether I’ll ever lead my people is looking pretty grim.
I scramble for something else to say before we can dwell on that possibility. “I think you’d like my bloodmother, Beatrin. Or rather, I think she’d like you, very much. She and my heartmother both keep trying to teach me how to be a better prince, a better politician, a better leader—but you seem born to it.”
“Divinely chosen,” she corrects me, but her tone is wry. “They sound like a formidable team, your mothers.”
“They are,” I murmur, trying very hard not to think about how they must be comforting each other right now. How they must believe I’m dead.
I feel Nimh’s eyes on me, and after a brief pause, she’s the one to change the subject. “Did a man play a part in your making?” she asks. I suppose it’s a valid question—things might be different up above, especially if we’re all supposed to be gods.
“Yes, a councilor named Talamar. His part was strictly biological—I only got to know him recently. It’s very strange to meet someone and realize the parts of yourself that have come from them.”
“What is biological?” Nimh asks curiously, with absolutely no concern as to the personal nature of the question she’s asking.
“Um.” I wouldn’t usually have a problem talking about sex, but with Nimh lying here beside me on the blanket, so close I can hear her breathing, suddenly the question makes me flush. “It’s … I mean, he provided the … My mothers couldn’t exactly make a baby without …”
“Ah,” Nimh says, sparing me. And, finally, her cheeks darken a fraction, eyes skittering away to fix on a loose board on the deck instead of my face. “Biological means to lie with someone.”
I could correct her, but at this moment I’m too tongue-tied to manage it. She seems less discomfited, and saves me answering by changing the subject herself.
“Are there others in the cloudlands who are important to you?” she asks.
“The next most important are my two best friends, Miri and Saelis,” I reply. “Miri’s highborn, with all the confidence that comes from that. She jumps into anything that grabs her interest and figures out how to handle it later. Saelis is the son of one of my tutors. He’s much more grounded. And he’s kind.” I can feel my lips curving as I think of the two of them. “Sometimes, he’s a little like an old man in a young man’s body, but I like that about him. Miri adds sparks to everything. Saelis makes sure we don’t catch fire.”
“Hmm.” Nimh casts me a sidelong look, and though her eyes look incredibly tired, she manages a hint of a teasing smile. My distraction is working, at least a little.
“In fairness,” I say, “he did think the glider was a very bad idea when I built it.”
That earns another ghost of a smile. “You must miss them very much.”
“Very much.” I hesitate only for a moment—I want to share this with her. “I can show you a picture of them. Look.” I bring my chrono to life so I can navigate to my photos, our faces palely illuminated by the light of the screen.
“And you are still sure this device is not magical?” she asks—I think she might be teasing.
“Technological,” I reply with a faint smile, the same way I did the first time she saw my chrono. “My people invented these about a century ago, although those were pretty primitive. Now everyone has one, and they can do all sorts of things. They track our health, give us directions, even let us talk to people who are all the way on the other end of the archipelago.”
“It speaks to those who are far away?” Nimh’s eyes flick up to mine. “Why have you not used this far-speech to tell your people you survived your fall?”
“I tried.” I keep my eyes on the chrono for the moment, afraid to let her see just how much that still hurts. “The signal doesn’t reach down here.”
Nimh leans forward, studying the display, and then lurches back as I touch the button that projects it as a three-dimensional holograph. She flashes me a skeptical look. “North, this is magic. There are hints of such things in our most treasured relics. But even I have never seen something like this.”
“It really isn’t magic,” I say helplessly. “It exists because of centuries of scientific advancements and experimentation and invention. I could take it apart and show you all the circuits inside.”
She nods eagerly, eyes lighting with curiosity. “Please, I would like that.”
“Well …” I check myself, my grin turning somewhat sheepish. “I actually can’t take it apart, not without breaking it. I wouldn’t know how to put it back together.”
Nimh raises an eyebrow at me, and an instant before she speaks, I know what she’s going to say. “You told me that magic is just science you cannot explain. But here is more of your technology that you cannot explain. How can you be so certain it contains no magic?”
I can’t help it—I laugh. “Just … look at the picture, okay?”
It’s one of my favorites, from about a year ago, taken when the three of us went on a weekend trip to one of the smaller islands in the Alciel archipelago. Saelis is in the middle, one arm around Miri, the other around me in a fake choke hold. My face is contorted with laughter, and Miri’s side-eyeing the both of us, her cheeks pink.