Chapter 21
A new week brings the results of the mid-cruise voting. Today’s results allow us to see where we stand before the official vote next week. Staff members can’t seem to talk about anything else and the wealthy cruise guests wield their opinions like weapons.
Alana Reyes, emotive, sits in slot one for a retrial.
Taurean Darell, crafter, rests comfortably in slot two.
He runs games on the top deck in the mornings and afternoons.
His wide grin and cheerful attitude never slip, even in the sweltering heat.
It may be easing into fall back home, but the sun shines on the deck every day aboard.
Every sailing has perfect weather for the guests to go swimming, but the staff end up hot and miserable.
Taurean is so good, you’d think he enjoys it.
Ivander Harpyrian, shifter, sits in slot three.
The guests agree he would be higher if they knew he’d accept the trial, but they’re aware of his reputation for relinquishing his slot.
Despite the mid-cruise votes, anything can change. Votes from a concierge’s family are worth fifty extra, so I need to win over Asralyn. In the upper class, once a few names gain traction, all the votes go the same way.
Niko and Isla have helped me by creating unique desserts and signature dishes for the Stallards.
Niko comes to the table and grills winder steaks made from the shaggy beasts in Windmere that scale mountainsides and are legendary for meat that melts in your mouth.
Our table definitely gets some jealous looks for that one.
He even includes a show with fire in the shape of dragons for the kids.
Isla’s sorbet, made from the sweet kibli fruit native to Illoryan, is the ice to Niko’s fire with snowflakes of sugar falling over the top and chocolate characters ice-skating on the surface.
The biggest improvement in my day has been Ivander’s decision to work by my side. When he decides to help, he jumps in headfirst.
Even if he sometimes skips rehearsals to help me make magic for guests, no one would know from watching his performances.
He’s been spreading rumors that the night of the mid-cruise ball was a misunderstanding and I was a key figure in making sure no one else got hurt.
Ivander’s dedication to gaining the guests’ trust means his words spread like wildfire among them.
The two of us stand on the top deck with the Stallards in the sticky heat. I’ve set Vance and Asralyn a picnic lunch. Knowing of Asralyn’s safety concerns now, I’ve given her a table with a full view of the pool.
“Look out for Ezra,” I tell Sage as both kids run for the pool.
The water changes color from clear blue to deep violet to shimmering silver as they swim.
I look to Asralyn, and she gives me a stiff nod back.
Ivander and I watch the kids dive for luminescent seahorses with tiny wings that Ivander created from his Morphia jar.
We toss in toys like a miniature dolphin that lets the kids hang on to her dorsal fin for rides and a ball that sings songs as it zips in and out of the water.
We’ve been working so hard the past week that I haven’t had time to consider what’s happening between us.
At some point he decided I was worth more than my name.
I guess I’ve started to realize it too. I understand now where his protectiveness comes from.
I’m used to staying guarded too. That’s how people are most comfortable around me and my Morphia.
But there’s something different about Ivander.
I can be honest with him because I know he’s honest with me.
Always.
We both push further and take more risks than anyone else.
The more he takes risks for me, the more I understand what he’s willing to put on the line for others.
Since he set foot on this ship, he’s thought more about his friends’ retrials and his family’s future than his own, and now I might be one of those friends—perhaps more.
There’s a cloying sense of guilt at the idea of allowing him to help me get mine, but I know why I’m doing it.
I’m more determined to get home than ever.
After making sure the Stallards are comfortable, Ivander and I make our way to the lagoon.
A stack of translucent, inflatable tubes forms a tower next to the steps leading into the lazy river.
We each grab a tube and offer them to the guests lining up for their turns.
Our fingertips brush every so often, and my cheeks heat.
Taurean sees us and steps aside, running a hand through the curls of his dark hair. “Shift change, huh?” He bends into a small bow. “Lady Damarcus, you’re the highlight of the afternoon. The guests love you.”
I roll my eyes. “The guests love you. They tolerate me.”
Ivander and I have been hosting this activity for the past week.
Guests line up to float around the ship in inflatable tubes or on the backs of small sea dragons, but there’s a twist. I allow them to float with a lost friend or family member—sometimes even a historical figure they’re curious about.
I can’t do it for all the guests, but I do enough to make an impression.
The deathmares are horrible. I wake from them screaming with Alana peering over me most nights.
I tell myself the sleepless nights will be worth it when I get my retrial.
The waking deathmares leave me confused and panicked.
Just yesterday, I witnessed a staff member jump over the side of the ship and into the sea below, only to realize it was a deathmare.
A mere memory from the past. It still left me feeling sick and unable to focus.
“Mr. Baronster,” I say to a man wearing a billowy tunic shirt and flexible, crafter-made water pants. I recognize him from Credence. Like Father, I have an uncanny ability to remember the names and faces of most of the families in our province.
“I didn’t realize you were on this cruise.”
Mr. Baronster shuffles his bare feet. “I’m only here for a week this time.
” His eyes dart to the deck. He can’t look me in the eye now that I’m here.
My ears burn when I realize how I must look to him.
A far cry from the girl dressed in a heavy gown, standing on the dais of her father’s ballroom, winning respect from the crowd.
I tuck a loose strand of dark auburn hair behind my ear.
Ivander clears his throat, sensing the awkwardness and, as usual, smooths it over. “Would you like to see someone, Mr. Baronster? You’re the first guest today.”
Mr. Baronster stands straighter. “I just lost my Great-Aunt Emalda, but I don’t really want to see her.” He gulps, twisting the unity ring on his finger. “Actually, I lost my hound dog last winter. Dane went everywhere with me. I’d like to see him again.”
I hand Mr. Baronster the inflated tube after he shakes his head at the sea dragon and try to ignore the way he recoils when my hand brushes his.
I want to scream at him that I’m the same person.
But I’ve gotten much better at hiding what’s going on inside my head over the last three weeks.
The truth is, I’m not sure he would have respected me back home either.
The guests at Father’s balls jumped in line for my gift, but they wanted a performance.
They still regarded me like a theater spectacle. They weren’t really there for me.
As Ivander and I both force smiles, we help Mr. Baronster into his tube on the water. I reach out and work to keep my voice steady as he recoils once more. “It works best if you take my hand.”
He inhales a deep breath and grabs my hand.
Inwardly, I cringe at the sensation of his flesh against mine.
I close my eyes. This is why Eliza gave up her Morphia.
She didn’t want anyone to be afraid of her.
She wanted to trust the interactions she had with people.
No one pretends to put up with her anymore just to access her powers of healing.
This is why Leith joined the Hawks. To put the dangerous Morphics in prison so they didn’t make people more afraid of the so-called less dangerous Morphics like me.
Well, look at me now, Leith. Maybe you’d be afraid of me too.
With my eyes closed, I enter the spiritual plane.
Dane’s spirit comes to me easily, annoyingly easier than a human spirit.
He bounds over, black ears flopping. The ends of my fingers tingle as Dane’s spirit splashes into the water beside Mr. Baronster.
The intensity of the emotions stirring inside me are so strong that Dane doesn’t just look solid.
He is solid.
He licks his master’s face and paddles beside him.
Exercising my resurrection every day has made me strong enough to hold the connection for an entire trip around the lagoon.
I maintain the connection while Ivander continues to help guests into their tubes or onto the backs of scaly sea dragons.
“If you’re waiting for a resurrection, step to the side. Roe will help you as soon as she can.”
Ivander’s chatting pleasantly with a few guests when two men wearing flexible compression bodysuits approach me.
The swimsuits are flecked with iridescent scales, created by a crafter to adjust to temperature underwater.
They push past the guests waiting in line and stop so close to me that their breath singes my skin.
I will myself not to step back as they tower over me, crossing their burly arms.
“Pretty girl, isn’t she?” the man asks his friend. “Too bad she likes to play with our dead.”