The Girl from Everywhere (The Girl from Everywhere #1)(37)

“Get up, Kash, it’s long past—” Slate stopped on the threshold, his mouth still open. Kashmir’s body went rigid, his eyes snapping open, but the captain was staring at me. With all my might, I resisted the urge to explain. I’d be damned if I’d make it his business.

Slate took a deep breath, dropped his eyes, then shifted on his feet, looking everywhere but at me. “Fifteen minutes, Kashmir.” When he shut the door, he didn’t even slam it.

I laughed a little, incredulous, triumphant, but Kash clambered to his feet, his hand on his forehead. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “That could have been much worse.”

“It also could have been better,” he said, pulling off his shirt and throwing it into the corner.

“So what? He needs you.”

“I’m not worried about me,” Kash said, rifling through his closet. “I’d hate to see you in trouble.”

“In trouble? For this? Nothing even happened. And he has no moral high ground, even if it did.” I watched Kashmir slide a shirt off a hanger, put it on, button it up. The silence felt loud. “Which it didn’t.”

“I know.” He glanced back over his shoulder and gave me a wink. “I was there.”

My cheeks started to burn. “So where are you two going, anyway?”

He pinned his cuffs. “I’m sure you can guess.”

“Creeping around the treasury?”

“Reconnoiter is a nicer word.”

I made a face. “Don’t get caught. The last thing we need is for you to go to jail.”

“For treason?” he said, running a comb through his tousled hair. “We wouldn’t go to jail.”

“Really?”

“We’d be shot.”

“You always know just what to say.”

“I try to look on the bright side.” He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. “Now, unless you have regrets about what didn’t happen—”

His laughter followed me out into the hall; my ears were still ringing with it when I got up abovedecks.

It was a beautiful day, the blue sky paling beside the sapphire sea. Half a mile out, rollers were combing the sandbar in long lines of cloud-white foam, and past them, fishermen in canoes clustered around the coral reefs. The air was cool, and as the balmy breeze ruffled the water of the bay, the sun changed the surface of the sea into a Milky Way of sparkling stars.

Bee and Rotgut were stooped over a swath of netting, making repairs. When Bee glanced up at me, Rotgut smiled hugely. “Ooohhhh!”

Bee swatted at him. “Go make lunch.”

“It’s not even midmorning!”

“Make something that takes a long time.”

Rotgut rolled his eyes, and when he passed me on the way to the hatch, he gave me a big thumbs-up.

The netting was spread out on the planks under the clothesline. I was careful not to step in it. “Word travels fast,” I said to Bee as I gathered my clothes; they were warm with sunlight.

“It didn’t have far to go.” Bee tied off a knot. “That boy. You know he has no cattle.”

“So?”

“So, I paid thirteen head to marry Ayen although the price was only ten, but if you had seen her dance, oh, the way she moved—”

“No, I know,” I said, cutting her off before she went through the entire story. “But Kashmir and I are just friends.” She pursed her lips at me, but I only shrugged. “Besides, I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should find some cattle.”

“Where would I even keep them?”

“Cattle are only a metaphorical representation of worth, Nix.”

I laughed then. “Of course. Sorry.”

“At least until you settle somewhere with grass.”

I stopped in my work, my arms full of laundry. “Who says I’m going to settle?”

She shrugged. “Most people do.”

“You don’t.”

“I did. But I have no cattle left now, metaphorical or otherwise. How would I marry? Besides, Ayen gets jealous,” she said with a wink. Then she pulled another knot tight, and the rope snapped in her hand. “Ach! Ayen! See?”

“Right, well, as for me . . . ,” I said. “There’s no need for cattle, because there isn’t going to be any settling.”

She snorted.

“Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you. Ayen is laughing at you.”

I yanked the last dress off the line. “Ayen should stop causing trouble.”

“I told her that, but does she listen?” Bee shook her head. “No one listens to Bee. Maybe you should ask your mother.”

I swallowed. “She doesn’t speak to me like Ayen speaks to you.”

“I’ll tell the captain to ask her, then.”

“I don’t think she speaks to him, either.”

“I think she probably does.” Bee made another firm knot in the net.

“Then maybe he also doesn’t listen.”

Just then Kashmir came up through the hatch, looking very dapper. Both Bee and I watched as he crossed the deck and knocked on the captain’s door. After a moment, it opened; he went in, and both of us stopped breathing as we listened for shouting, but nothing came. Bee nodded. “Good thing he doesn’t mind.”