Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(90)

“Dama,” said Rue. “Blast him. Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t you?” He’s trying to meddle from afar!

Quesnel gave one of his French shrugs. “It’s morbid, non? Perhaps he was trying to protect your finer sensibilities.”

Rue narrowed her eyes. “Or perhaps Floote knows something Dama wishes me to know. Perhaps this is Dama’s roundabout way of helping, of trying to keep me safe.” She was thinking about her conversations with Floote concerning her mother’s past and all the things he hadn’t told Rue about her grandfather.

Quesnel shrugged again. “Information is vampire currency. I shouldn’t take it as an intentional slight.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“What’s that supposed to imply?”

Rue examined the world through her eyelids for a moment. Her nerves hummed, from anger, or discovery, or Quesnel’s proximity it was hard to determine which. Unable to cope with any of it, she left the room.





They abandoned the Nile for the desert once more. At one point they saw, far away in the rocky sands to the west, the black smoke of a nomadic centacopper. Powerful, town-carrying, mechanical turtles of the great empty, those major feats of engineering could crawl over the desert for weeks on little fuel and less water. Quesnel came up from engineering at the first word of a sighting and kept his amplified glassicals trained for as long as he could.

“I’ve always wanted to see one up close.” He seemed wistful. Almost subdued.

Rue was briefly tempted to hare off in pursuit of the centacopper; perhaps then Quesnel would smile again. But she was not so foolish. If only, she thought, we really were a ship of exploration and not a ship near constantly under siege.

“See?” Primrose also noticed Quesnel’s odd behaviour, later at supper. He had said only the nicest and most politic things and then left early. “Happy now?”

Rue narrowed yellow eyes at her friend and mouthed, “Not now.” Anything Prim had to say to her in that particular tone of voice was best kept for private chambers.

They retreated there as soon as politeness allowed.

“Out with it.” Rue faced her demons as soon as they were alone in Prim’s room.

“You’ve broken that boy’s heart.” Primrose was getting rather dramatic, even for Aunt Ivy’s daughter.

Rue let out a burst of surprised laughter.

Primrose was not amused. “Oh, stop it. What is really going on?”

Rue paused to examine her feelings. What was really going on? Finally she said, before she could stop herself, “I don’t trust him not to break my heart.”

Primrose sat back with a whoosh noise, pensive and startled at the same time. She took a small breath and spoke slowly, choosing her words with care. “So you break his first? That’s hardly sporting.”

“I didn’t think his heart was something I had power over.”

“So are you doing this simply to prove that you can? I did think, from an outsider’s perspective” – she blushed – “that you were good together. Was I wrong? Did something not work in, you know, that way?”

Rue considered Quesnel’s mouth and hands, the smooth feel of one and the rough feel of the other. She considered his eyes, up close, violet twinkling. It had been a great deal of fun, his lessons. Was there something wrong with fun? She was usually in hot pursuit of adventurous pleasure in all other parts of her life.

“Quite the opposite.”

Primrose pressed.

“So you are in love with him?”

Rue shied away from that idea. It was utterly terrifying.





Later that evening, Rue unexpectedly encountered Anitra alone on the poop deck. She would have turned to leave the girl in peace but, at a welcoming gesture, joined her. They stood companionably chatting, looking out over the dark desert.

Pleasantries exchanged, Anitra said, quickly, as though getting something pent up out, “Captain, I wish to say something. I do hope you will not take it amiss.”

“Yes?”

“I wear no dowry coins.” She gestured across her forehead where the edge of her veil rested. “Nor do I wear anklets or bracelets.”

“I had not known to remark upon this absence but I do now.” Rue was a little confused but it was her business to be polite to a guest.

Anitra bit her lip. “Very well, then, I should… um… good evening.” With which she left.

“Well, that was odd,” said Rue to the night silence.

“What was?” Miss Sekhmet emerged abovedecks, looking fresh and chipper. They’d settled happily into their old immortal cycle where she joined them for supper after sunset and then took the night shift. They missed her company during the day, but it was healthier for her not to fight the nocturnal habits of several lifetimes.

“Miss Anitra just insisted on telling me that she wore no jewellery.”

Tasherit grinned. “She was informing you that she is not available for courting. Did you make a move in that direction?”

“Certainly not.” Rue thought of Ay and that fact that Anitra might perceive her as masculine. “At least, I don’t think I did.”

The immoral nodded. “Ah, so. Then it is your jealousy when Quesnel pays her too close attention. She is trying to make clear her lack of intent.”