I called out Carina’s name again, then checked every room in the small apartment. I was alone—my father hadn’t returned either. I sat down in the living room to wait.
The adrenaline rush of the last twenty minutes slowly ebbed, leaving me to a surreal silence. My world had tilted precariously on its axis in the space of less than an hour. What did it mean that people could hack our systems and set things on fire as they pleased? There were so many electronics on board that making enough of them overheat would spell death for us all. And there I went, being myopically selfish. People in the fleet were dying, starving. I hadn’t realized it was this bad. Maybe we were the monsters they’d accused us of being, with our parties and champagne and finery.
And then there was Elliot. I had imagined a reunion between us more times than I cared to admit, the scene always melodramatic and romantic and happy in the end. Reality was altogether different. I wasn’t prepared for the sheer force of Elliot’s hatred toward me. It knocked me off-center, hollowed me out. And now I’d have to see him nearly every day for a month, while he flirted with other girls, no less.
How had he changed so drastically in only three years? Now he was brusque and cold and secretive, sneaking off to parts unknown during the party, probably with some girl. The old Elliot was steadfast and frankly a little bit boring—just like me. And he liked me, and only me.
I needed to get a grip on myself. Jealousy was not a good look.
With a deep sigh, I sank back into the couch cushions, resigned to wait. My mind spiraled from Elliot to my father and sister’s safety—what if something terrible had happened to them and that’s why they weren’t back yet? I hoped it wouldn’t be too much longer. Left alone with my thoughts was a dangerous place to be.
Four
The smell of bacon, tangy and sweet, woke me. Was it morning? Time was relative up here, the view from the window always dark, sprawling space. I groaned, rubbing at my sleep-crusted eyes.
Carina had swanned in at two a.m. like it was any other night, explaining breezily that she’d been pulled into an after-party some friends were throwing and lost track of the time. Too tired to yell, I’d simply collapsed onto my bed and fallen asleep in what I had on. And now, as I kicked my legs over the side of the bed and stood, I assessed the damage to my dress. Wrinkled but not ruined.
The bacon, on the other hand, might be. The acrid whiff of burnt meat hit my nostrils, sending me sprinting to the kitchen to find a sheepish Carina, uselessly moving charbroiled strips from the pan to a plate to cool. People were starving in the fleet, and we were burning bacon. Guilt swooped at my insides.
“Whoops,” Carina said with a shrug. “It’s the thought that counts?”
“I’m still mad,” I said. “But apology accepted. At least you tried. Help me out of my dress?”
She undid the eyehook closures and buttons that ran up the back, and I shuffled back to our room, clasping the dress to my front. It was a relief to change into a slick black bodysuit and a casual day dress. By the time I was done and had washed my face clean of last night’s makeup, Carina had Breakfast, Take Two, laid out on the dining table. She stuck to toasted rolls and a selection of cheeses and sliced meats. Both that and the bacon must have come from Klara. We’d not been able to afford meats for the past year.
Father shuffled blearily to the table as I prepared an open-faced sandwich. He demanded coffee as he plopped down into the seat of honor. Normally I wouldn’t baby him, but today I fetched the coffee as ordered. It was easier not to poke the bear, especially when the bear was tired and hung-over.
“What time did you turn in?” I asked, biting into the simultaneously crisp and fluffy bread, buttery cheese, and salty salami. I only just suppressed a satisfied groan. I’d missed this.
“Late,” Father grumbled between greedy sips of coffee. “Very late indeed. Had to help Freja sort things out, of course.”
I nodded along obediently, even though I was picturing my dad blustering around, pretending usefulness while the other adults did the actual work. Father enjoyed feeling important more than anything. I was sure my aunt had done the lion’s share of damage control after last night’s incident. I dared to prod a bit further.
“Did you find out anything? About who did it?” I asked.
“Lena Wendt from the Sternshiff,” Father sniffed. “Styles herself leader of some group called Freiheit. They like to blame everyone else for their problems instead of themselves.”
“That’s harsh,” I said. “People are dying.”
“And that’s our fault? People die, Leonie.”
I took a deep breath rather than say the first thing that came to mind. I would never win with my father, who was always right. Especially when he was very, very wrong.
“And what will happen to the hackers?” I forced a lightness into my tone.
“She and her fellow . . . terrorists will be dealt with on the Olympus.”
“It was hardly terrorism.” I went back on all my best intentions, because I just couldn’t let the word terrorists stand. “It was a protest. A statement, no?”
“They hacked us and started a fire. How is that not terrorism?”
“I heard they’re known to be peaceful protesters,” Carina piped up, surprising us both. “Lukas told Klara, who told Asta, who told Evy, who told me.”
I perked up at the mention of our renter, but then my father drew my focus, his lips pursed together so tightly, they went white. I could tell he was about to explode into a rant that I was too sleep-deprived to handle.
“I was sad not to see Lukas again last night. I’ll have to speak to him again tonight at the Klaviermeister concert,” I said, deflecting and lying all at once. It seemed to work. Father abruptly changed tack.
“Oh, good. That’s the worst of it, you know. That the ball ended so abruptly, and you girls lost so much mingling time.”
Yes, that was absolutely the worst part about last night, I thought. Not the locked door, or the panic, or the fire.
“Besides which, several crates of champagne went missing,” he continued. “I had to deal with that unpleasant business, on top of everything else.”
“So sorry you had to deal with that. I can handle it today.”
But he waved me off. “Oh, no, I managed it. I scolded the catering staff for miscounting. But I do wish you hadn’t run off.”
“Speaking of the renters,” Carina jumped in, seizing on the slightest scrap to steer the conversation where she wanted, “you did an excellent job picking them out, Leo. Evgenia and I became fast friends last night. We’re about the same size, and she said she has the latest fashions from the Saint Petersburg and Empire, and that I could borrow them while they’re here. And can you believe the insane luck that they know Elliot and brought him along?”
“Elliot?” Father chimed in, suddenly interested. “Wentworth?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Carina nodded vigorously. “Your old valet! Apparently he migrated over to the Saint Petersburg, but now he lives somewhere called the Islay?”
“Technically he wasn’t a valet,” I said against my better judgment. I regretted it immediately.
“Don’t be obtuse, Leonie, of course he was my valet,” Father said, a hawkish warning layered beneath his look of light censure.