The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)(2)

He raised an eyebrow. “Someday soon?”

“I hope so.” My hand crept to the pearl pendant at my throat—the necklace Kashmir had given me. Kashmir, my best friend, my crewmate. Kash, whose green eyes were a mystery and whose lips, I had discovered quite recently, tasted of oranges.

Gently, I laid the map of Tahiti down on the drafting table. Were there oranges there, in the high valleys? But maybe I didn’t need a map to find paradise. I turned back to Kashmir. He cocked his head, and then those lips curved into a smile. He was so close. All I had to do was take a breath and lean in—

“Nix!”

Kash and I sprang apart. My father was standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the sunlight. “What do you want, Slate?” I said, half exasperated, half grinning, but my smile slid away when he stepped into the cabin.

At first I thought he’d been crying—his eyes were wet, gleaming—but when I recognized the other signs, my stomach sank. His blond hair was damp and lank with sweat, and there was the slouch that signaled the ache in his shoulders. His broad hands, usually so sure on the wheel, were palsied with tremors that occasionally traveled all the way up his arms. Usually, at times like these, he would make a beeline for the box of opium that used to be under his bed.

Nervously, I smoothed the curling edges of the map. We were sailing into uncharted territory.

Beside me, Kash stood at attention, his expression bland, though his eyes were troubled. “Aye, Captain?”

Slate didn’t spare him a look. “Did you hear me, Nix?” His voice was shockingly loud in the cabin. I shot a meaningful glance back toward Blake, but he hadn’t stirred, and the captain didn’t seem to notice. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“I—I didn’t have an answer until just now.”

“Okay.” He swiped his lips with the back of his hand, as though the word had left a residue. “Is it far?”

“French Tahiti. Only fifteen years from this timeline. Should be easy passage.” I frowned at him as he approached the map with uneven steps. He’d never asked that before. “Why?”

“It’s just a question!” Slate gripped the corners of the desk as he peered at the map. Sweat shone on his brow despite the cool trade winds blowing through the deadlights, and his pupils—black moons—eclipsed the icy blue of his eyes. “What?” he said, and I jumped. The edge in his voice was sharp, serrated. “Why are you staring at me?”

I opened my mouth, but what could I say? He’d gotten rid of the box for me too, and his symptoms were to be expected. This was only a minor obstacle on our way to a bright future. We would get through this, and on the other side, everything would be better.

Wouldn’t it?

“Nothing, Captain.”

After a long silence, he turned back to the map. “Get on deck, the both of you,” he muttered, tapping his fingers on the edge of the drafting table. “There’s a ship after us.”

“What?”

“A ship! A ship, following, gaining, do you understand?”

“Yes, but . . . why?”

Slate scoffed at my question. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten robbing the Royal Hawaiian treasury!”

“No.” I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my calm, reminding myself it was the pain that made him cruel. “But how would they know it was us? We used a different ship.”

“Do you want to tell them that, if they ask to search us?”

“They wouldn’t find anything. We haven’t got the gold.”

“We have the son of a known conspirator,” Slate said, his lip curling. “Which is far less valuable, but just as damning.”

I took a breath to make a retort—to defend Blake—but Kashmir stopped me with a gentle hand on my wrist. “Come, amira. Let’s go see about that ship.” I pressed my lips together and followed him outside.

Once on deck, I shaded my eyes against the tropical sun as I peered off the stern. The island of Oahu floated in the distance, a blossom atop the blue mirror of the sea. Between us and the faraway shore, a coal steamer purled black smoke from her funnel. I watched her, the wind in my face. It blew in our favor over the quarters, and we had broad reach, but the steamship was traveling at speed, and yes, it was gaining. Another obstacle, this one slightly bigger. I ground my teeth. “We can’t let them catch us.”

“If we need more speed, we can always throw the dead weight overboard,” Kash said as he strode toward the mizzenmast.

I frowned; our hold was nearly empty. “What dead weight?”

“Mr. Hart comes to mind.”

I made a face, grabbing for the halyard. Kash had been born a thief, and Blake a gentleman; they hadn’t had much in common, and that was before Blake had tried to stop the treasury raid. “He saved my life, you know.”

The laughter in Kashmir’s eyes faded. “For that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Together, we loosened the sail to take better advantage of the wind. The mast creaked as the sail billowed, straining against the ropes, and the Temptation surged ahead. She was a fast ship—a caravel, lateen rigged—and her black hull cleaved the white waves like a shark’s fin. Still the steamer gained. I could make out the figures on her deck now—men in dark blue jackets and gleaming white pith helmets. The uniform of the Royal Hawaiian Guard. As we dipped on the waves, the sun flashed off their long rifles.