The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)(57)

Her jaw clenched; she spoke through her teeth. “I know.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE


I tossed on the thick mattress, wrestling with sleep. More than once I jolted out of a half dream; without the rocking of the waves, I felt as though I were falling. The bed smelled ever so slightly of lavender, so unlike the brine and the breeze on the wide sea. And the room was too quiet; I could hear nothing of the wind in the rigging or the breath of the ocean or the waves whispering secrets to the hull.

But the silence in the room was a sharp contrast to the thoughts racing around my head: my mother, here and now. The past, changed—though not the way I had imagined. Then again, wishes granted magically had a way of being twisted. There were so many stories about that—the magic fish, the monkey’s paw, the treacherous genie. What would happen when it came time for me to rewrite my own past?

I threw back the covers and clawed out of the hollow formed by the down. Was Kashmir still awake too? In a shifting tide, he was my anchor. Smoothing my rumpled gown, I slipped out into the parlor, resolved to find him and tell him so. I peered at the doors; which room was his? The fire had burned low, and I didn’t see Blake sitting on the chaise until he spoke.

“Hello, Miss Song.” He lifted his face from his hands, and his eyes were dark as the midnight sea. “If you’re looking for Mr. Firas, he’s gone.”

Had I been so obvious? Thankfully, the dim light hid my blush. “Where?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Oh.” I shifted on my feet, awkward, and toyed with the lace on my skirt. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I have the same problem of late. Vivid dreams.” He sighed, running one hand through his hair. “Or perhaps they aren’t dreams at all.”

“Right.” I wet my lips. “Kash told me you both remembered the time before Crowhurst was king.”

“That, and other things.” Blake gazed at the coals on the hearth. They lit his face in soft lines—the angle of his jaw, the downward curve of his mouth. “I recognized her.”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

I swallowed—the word was so strange in my ears. “What do you mean, you recognized her?”

“I knew who she was the moment she came through the door. I . . . It seems . . . impossible, but weeks ago, the day you arrived in Honolulu, I had a dream I still remember. I was calling on the house next to mine. The one in Nu‘uanu Valley. I’d gone to see you there.” His eyes were distant, as though he was watching the memory unfold. “You were my—my dear friend, my confidante. We’d grown up together. In the dream, I was only waiting in your parlor for you to come downstairs. Your mother brought me tea, and that’s when I woke. Later that morning, I rode to town and heard there was a black ship sailing toward the harbor. And when I saw you standing on deck, I recognized you too.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, even though I knew.

Still, he obliged me. “I think . . . Miss Song, I think there might be—in some lifetime, or timeline, in the range of infinite possibility . . .” Blake sighed again. “There may have been a place where your mother and the captain stayed. There may be a time where paradise still exists, the robbery never happened—and you and I never left.”

My breath caught in my throat. I had always feared the price of having my mother back would be my own past, but the reality of the sacrifice was far more complicated. The worst part was: I could imagine it. He and I, best friends—we were so alike. It wouldn’t have been such a bad life. Just not my life. But I had given Crowhurst the map. I had set this all in motion. “I’m sorry, Blake.”

“Why?”

I stammered; I did not want to give words to my own complicity. “You sound . . . sad.”

“Sad? No. Miss Song. Don’t you see?” He smiled at me then—just like he used to. “If there are other possibilities out there, it means there must be a world where we’re all very happy.”

“If there is, I haven’t got a map there.”

“Maybe I could make one,” he said, his voice whimsical. “Of course, I’d need someone to take me there.”

Suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to be back on the ship—among the charts and the worlds where I felt at home. I strode to the door, my dress swishing around my ankles.

“Where are you going, Miss Song?”

“Back to the docks.”

“You can’t go alone.” He stood, and I rounded on him.

“I damn well can.”

He put his hands up, palms out. “Forgive me. I—what I meant to say was, I don’t want to be alone.”

My anger drained away, as quick as it had flooded in. “Come on then.”

We stepped out into the hall side by side, and I picked a direction I only hoped was correct. I had been in a haze when I’d followed the servants to the suites, and now the rippled glass of the rare windows did not allow me clear sight of the stars.

Far away, the bells tolled the changing tide, followed by the low, grinding tremolo of the sea gates closing. I shivered; the halls were drafty, and my cloak was still on the floor in my room. As I considered going back for it, Blake shrugged off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders without a word. I was grateful, not only for the coat, but for the silence—rare for him. But perhaps it was my turn to speak.