Chapter 12
With the end of the second full week approaching, the rich upper-class guests are doing what they do best: talking.
They whisper behind their hands when staff members walk by, sharing horror stories.
I feature in many of them. I’m beginning to wonder if the guests at our Resurrection Balls were just as annoying and I was too distracted by the glamour to care.
“I heard the bosses hate her. This is her first cruise and my goodness, does it show.”
Another woman laughs. “She’s a resurrector, darling. Goodbye and good riddance.”
The guests who recognize me on sight are quick to point me out to those who don’t.
Seeing as my great-grandfather’s idea for the Celestial and his role in bringing it to life is important history in every province, having a Damarcus aboard yields ripe gossip.
It’s entertainment for the guests—the idea of us getting our retrials or not.
With preliminary votes coming up, everyone’s on edge.
“That’s why we need a break,” Isla insists. “We can’t be worrying about the votes all weekend. I keep trying to set up something fun, but you all keep shooting me down.”
Niko narrows his eyes, clearing up the remnants of our lunch. “How about we worry about the mid-cruise ball instead? It’s in two days, and I’m still finalizing the menu.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Isla says, pushing aside her plate. “You know the bosses won’t approve the menu until the last possible moment tomorrow, so why worry now?”
Alana shrugs, taking a bite of grilled vegetables. “Rosemary says she’s recommending me to everyone she knows.”
Zora snorts. “With the way she talks, I’ll bet that’s everyone on the ship.”
Jealousy singes a hole in my gut, but I make myself squeeze Alana’s arm. She’s helped me more times than I can count. “I’m glad. There’s no one more deserving.”
She places her hand over mine and says, “I don’t think I’d be getting any votes at all if I had to work for Asralyn.”
I push away my sticky gortha pudding and stand, stretching my back. “At this point, I think Asralyn’s actively campaigning against me.”
Everyone at my table laughs, but it’s hard to ignore the staff members at the other tables turning to look at me.
By now, my punishments from the bosses are legendary.
They may grow each of my appendages back, but that doesn’t mean it’s painless.
The other staff members love watching it too.
Most of them thought Roe Damarcus would be the model Morphic prisoner. I couldn’t be further from that image.
And the looks on the bosses’ faces are worth it.
Charmaine, Stellan, Loren, and Balanyr. I’ve learned their names and the way their brows scrunch when they’re frustrated that they can’t break me.
No matter how many times they punish me with physical pain, I still see the fear in their eyes.
The fear, not of whether I’ll retaliate, but when.
With each punishment they inflict, their fear grows, and not of my father … of me.
The positive side is that it means Ivander’s been needling me less about getting special treatment.
Despite the punishments, an ember of hope burns within me. It’s been building since the end of last week. Even Asralyn can’t deny I’m getting better. Fewer dropped trays. More timely arrivals. I may not be getting her vote anytime soon, but there’s less flat-out hatred.
As the five of us leave the crew mess, I hurry to get last-minute advice from Alana.
The Stallards want to try the flying experience on the top deck today.
Guests get to fly over the ship with crafter-made wings.
It’s an activity the kids have wanted to do since day one, but Asralyn has always said no.
Now that she’s agreed, I have to make sure nothing goes wrong.
“What do I do if one of them falls in the water?” I ask.
Alana giggles. “Brace yourself for Asralyn’s wrath?”
“Not funny. I’m being serious.”
We take the stairs to meet our families in their rooms or at an activity. Some staff members don’t even get breaks for lunch, but the Stallards like having a break from me.
“I wouldn’t worry too much,” Alana answers. “They run this experience every day and no one usually gets hurt. Plus, Niko was assigned to bartending duty this afternoon, so you’ll have a friendly face nearby.”
Zora gives me an encouraging nod before she branches off to start crafting the set pieces for the afternoon show.
“You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted to see those wings.
The most intricate thing I’ve crafted were the props for funeral rites back home in Illoryan.
Glowing flowers to beckon the Riveners to the deceased or burial markers that change colors on birthdays.
” Zora touches the vibrant petal of a Riven Blossom hanging from a chain around her neck.
She must have made it herself to have a token of home.
I chuckle. “Rather you than me.”
Niko lets out a long sigh. “I’d rather be anywhere else too. Food’s more my strong suit, and this crowd is really particular about their drinks. Besides, whenever I enhance the drinks, I can’t taste anything for the rest of the afternoon.”
I take the stairs two at a time, hoping to beat the Stallards to the top deck.
My legs burn. Niko tugs at the buttons of his chef’s coat with trembling fingers as we walk.
It’s not fair that he’s going to be judged for bartending when he’s filling in for someone who got sick.
But the bosses wouldn’t accept Niko’s request to stay in the kitchen.
I reach the top deck and wipe strands of sweaty flyaway hairs from my forehead.
Niko gulps as he takes in the Swells & Spirits Bar.
“You’re going to be okay,” I tell him. I use the same firm, confident tone Father used with me when I was worried about Leith going on a hunt.
“I’ve seen you cook. You’re incredible.”
Niko rubs the back of his neck, and his midnight hair falls in his eyes. “Sure, but this is way different than cooking.”
I grin and do an elaborate impression of shaking a cocktail. “If you can’t make the best Tide Turner on the ship, then give the guests a show. I know you can do that.”
He returns a weak smile. “You’re right. That, I’m good at.” He inclines his head to me. “I better go, but … thanks.”
As Niko walks to the bar, I catch the flicker of gemstones in the sunlight. Asralyn wears an amber gown that shimmers in the afternoon sun. Even on the top deck, she chooses a gown. So much for my hopes of beating them up here.
I stride past the pool area and head to the bow of the ship where the flying activities are held. The lagoon changes from bright orange to muted lilac to glowing forest green in the time it takes me to reach my family.
A staff member with long hair tied back with a blue ribbon greets me. “Ah, good. Your concierge has finally arrived. I’m Lira,” she says. “I’ll be helping your group with the flying experience this afternoon. Looks like we’ve got clear skies.”
When Asralyn makes no comment about me arriving late, the tension in my shoulders lessens. Vance worries at his lip while Asralyn’s knuckles turn white as she clings to each of the children’s hands.
It’s a small group of us here for the flying experience today.
Thanks to the heat, most guests are in the pool or lagoon.
Niko’s going to have his hands full at the bar, pushing out Tide Turners with orange-salt rims that emit their own sea breeze.
Beside my family are three girls a few years older than I am.
They chatter in high-pitched giggles to each other and wear much more appropriate crafter-made swim clothes.
Lira reaches into a large case at her feet and removes several sets of wings.
They resemble flexible bat wings with intricate boning but have sparse feathering and straps that I assume attach to the shoulder, elbows, and wrists of each arm.
She fumbles the wings and drops a pair of them.
Her face flushes bright red as she scrambles to pick them up and misses a few times.
Her sense of touch must be wavering. I cringe and hope the Stallards don’t say anything.
The wings bring back the memory of the bat-bird from the hallway in my first week.
My mouth dries, and I try to pay attention to Lira as she regains her confidence and launches into an enthusiastic explanation of the rules.
“These wings are enhanced with crafter Morphia, which means you’ll be able to fly for thirty minutes. There are sensors built into each wing that will chime when you get too far from the ship or when time’s up.”
Asralyn clears her throat. “What if the kids don’t make it back to the ship in time?”
“The wings are pulled back to their creator.” She places a hand on her chest. “That’s me.
They return in thirty minutes whether the kids want to or not.
Now, if they manage to get too far from the ship—unlikely, of course—they may drop into the sea.
But that’s why the wings are made to become flotation devices when they hit the water. ”
Asralyn pales, and she looks to Vance, who sighs. “It will be fine,” he says.
Lira beckons the kids and the three girls forward to pick their wing colors.
Ezra chooses red and Sage chooses dark green.
The three girls choose black, white, and gold.
Lira walks among the group, helping them adjust the wing straps.
When the wings are in place, she invites each of the fliers to introduce themselves.
Sage and Ezra say their names with pride, but my heart jumps as they speak.
I hope it’s safe. I’ve never seen crafters do anything like this in Tamarynth.