Brightly Burning(41)
Regardless, I spent the better part of forty minutes with an ear pressed against the door as our new passengers moved into their quarters. I heard a laugh, which sped up my heartbeat threefold, but this was a light, tinkling laugh. The laugh of a woman who was trying to impress a man. Was it for Hugo? Or a man of her own party? I pushed my body harder against the door, but the laughter and the chatter only seemed to drift farther away.
Eventually I gave up, treating myself to a steamy shower, then distracted myself with a vampire book until I was groggy enough for sleep.
Morning came too soon, dread weighing down my limbs as I pulled myself through my a.m. rituals. I chose a simple black overdress and made my bun particularly neat, carrying them out with me into the greater ship like armor. Immediately, I sensed a shift; the atmosphere of the ship was different. Busy. Full. Chatter echoed from an adjacent corridor, the hum of humans replacing that of circulating air, buzzing machinery. I ran into Lizzy and Preity on my way to the dining quarters, where we were met by Xiao.
“Good; you’re all prompt. A great start to our new schedule. Junior staff eats breakfast at seven, senior staff at eight, and then civilians and the captain at nine. Ingram staff, I take it you’re aware of your duties beyond breakfast?”
The girls nodded and went into the dining room, but Xiao grabbed my arm, holding me back. “Stella, I may be out of pocket while the Ingrams are here, but if you need me, I’m here for you.” She then lowered her voice just above a whisper. “And, well. I hate to say this, but the Ingrams are accustomed to a very different ship and crew dynamic, so it would be best if you were . . . seen and not heard while they are here.”
I had figured out as much from interacting with their crew, and had already resolved to be seen as little as possible myself, let alone heard. Xiao apparently wasn’t done, though she seemed to be trying to find her words. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow.
“You also may find that the captain is . . . different with the Ingrams on board. Just don’t take it too much to heart, and take care of yourself.” She patted me on the arm and went off in the direction of the bridge.
Xiao’s words did little to quell my mounting anxiety. As the day progressed, I started to suspect the new schedule was designed to keep me and Hugo apart. I was officially “junior staff” now, and my duty was to mind Jessa, who was even more cut off than I was.
“He’s been back a whole day and hasn’t come to see me.” Jessa pushed away her plate with a huff. I would now join her for dinner in her quarters, as the Ingram party was to monopolize the dining room each evening from now on.
“I’m sure he’s just sleeping off some jet lag,” I said, picking at my chicken with a fork. Not even the return of meat to the menu could buoy my spirits. I was distracted by nerves.
“Sure,” Jessa grumbled. “Or he’s spending all his time with Bianca, like he used to.”
My comms pinged in my ear. Incoming message from Officer Xiao. “Stella, the captain requests that you dress Jessa in something appropriate for company and bring her to the drawing room.”
“Roger that,” I said with a sigh. I’d barely managed twenty-four hours avoiding him. But at least I had Jessa to hide behind. Dinner had involved a red sauce, which she’d somehow managed to get in her hair. I ordered her into the shower while I picked out one of her nicer overdresses, which, unlike mine, came in a variety of vibrant colors—?saffron, lilac, azure. I chose the lilac, to which Jessa wrinkled her nose.
“I want to wear pants. And a black top. Like you do.”
I ordered her to lift her arms so I could pull the pinafore wrap over her underlayer. “Nice try, but I wear dresses every day.”
“Why is that? Pants are more comfortable.”
“And dresses are more comfortable to me,” I said. “You should be able to wear what you like, I agree.” Jessa opened her mouth to reinvigorate her argument, but I stopped her in her tracks. “But. Some people have certain ideas about what girls should wear, so that means a dress in a pretty color.”
“My brother doesn’t care what I wear.”
“But the Ingrams do, and your brother cares about them.”
I’d been through this pageantry aboard the Empire, where girls were expected to adorn themselves as best they could like beautiful flowers. Impractical accoutrements such as lace, gauzy overlayers, and even silk abounded in the fashions of the finer ships in the fleet. I preferred dark colors and the more practical fabrics, even as a child. My aunt had been more than happy to oblige me, as vibrant colors were the domain of only those with money and resources, and she didn’t wish to waste any on me.
Jessa pouted but allowed me to dress her: the price she had to pay to see Hugo. I checked myself in the mirror. Same old—?plain face and hair that threatened to escape my bun, which I smoothed back. The stiff bodice of my overdress caused strain in my back but gave me the clean lines and unassuming airs I desired. To blend into the background of the party was my aim. To hide.
We found the drawing room easily enough by following the tinkling of glasses, the raucous laughter of a large party, which you could hear from the bridge. We followed the noise to the third bulkhead down from the dining quarters to find several people spilling into the corridor, some precariously holding glasses whose contents sloshed over the sides as they moved. They must have started drinking with dinner.