The Continent (The Continent #1)(4)

“Oh, I don’t know,” Aaden says, “it might be quite a thrill to see all that blood and gore up close.”

“Aaden, please,” says Mrs. Shaw, making a face. “We are at supper.”

“I’ll take a safe distance over the threat of arrows and hatchets any day of the week,” Mr. Shaw says.

My mother pushes her plate away. “I think it’s a dreadful shame that in all these years, they haven’t been able to sort out their differences.”

Mrs. Shaw rolls her eyes skyward. “I say let them kill each other. One day they’ll figure out that war suits no one, or else they’ll drive themselves to extinction. Either way, it makes no difference to me.”

“I don’t know,” my mother says. “They are still people, after all.”

Mrs. Shaw bristles. “People without the good sense to realize that there are civilized ways to solve disagreements.”

Her husband nods. “Before the Four Nations united to become the Spire, the people of our own lands were just as brutal, ever locked in some conflict or another. And see how far we have come? There may be hope yet for the Topi and the Aven’ei.” He raises a glass. “But for now, let us all be thankful that the forefathers of our great united nation had the will and the courage to envision a world of peace.”

Glasses are raised all around the table. “Hear, hear,” my father says, and the whole party drinks to the glory and accomplishment of the Spire. I take a small sip of champagne; from the corner of my eye, I see Aaden watching me.

I am surprised to find that I am flattered.

Later that evening, when most of the guests have gone and only a few stragglers remain, my mother pulls me aside. Her brow is knit with worry.

“I never thought to ask you, Vaela, before we arranged the trip, and now I feel quite beside myself: will you be all right seeing the Continent?”

I wave goodbye to a friend, then turn back to my mother. “But of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She is quiet for a moment. “With the war, I mean. The things you might see.”

“I suppose I haven’t given it much thought,” I say. “But then, I’m more interested in the topography than the Topi and the Aven’ei. This is a dream come true for me—you know that better than anyone.”

Her shoulders relax a bit. “Then you’re not worried about it?”

“What is there to worry about? We’ll be well out of reach of any danger, touring in the heli-plane.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I find a stray chair and sit down, my feet aching in my pointed shoes. “What is it, then? The violence?”

“Yes, Vaela, the violence.”

I give a little shrug. “It’s what they do, Mother. You oughtn’t be so concerned. I know what to expect—we’ve all read the histories. The natives fight, and fight, and fight some more. Over land or territory or whatever it is—I’ve never quite understood—the war goes on and on. It never changes.”

“Vaela! Vaela!” Evangeline, shimmering and luminous in a gown of pale gold and black lace, flutters over and plants a kiss on my cheek. “Remember everything,” she says breathlessly. “Draw every single thing you see! I want to know if the Topi are as tall and handsome as Roslyn says they are. And the Aven’ei—do you think they truly bleed and bleed even after they’re dead? Oh, Mrs. Sun! I—How do you do?”

“Hello, Evangeline,” my mother says. “You look lovely this evening.”

“Thank you kindly,” Evangeline says, her fingers brushing along the silky fabric of her skirts. She smiles and turns back to me. “You will come to call as soon as you return? I know my mother will want to receive you at once. She’s sick with envy, you know—she hasn’t said a word to father all night, on account of his being so far down the wait-list.”

“I’ll come round as soon as we’re home,” I say. “I promise.”

She pulls me into her arms, embraces me tightly, then steps back and grins. “The Continent! Oh, Vaela. You’ll have a spot yet beside the scholars at the Institute. You’ll be far more famous than stuffy old Sussenfaal, and lauded by your scientific peers, and I shall tell everyone that I am practically a part of your family.”

I touch the pendant at my neck. “Always.”

Evangeline’s mother calls from the grand doors at the entrance of the hall, a frosty expression upon her perfectly painted face. Mr. Day stands beside her, a full head shorter, looking defeated. “Be well, and remember everything,” Evangeline says. “I shall miss you every moment! Goodbye, Mrs. Sun!” And with a rustle of silk, she turns and hurries toward the foyer.

A glance at my mother tells me that the subject of violence on the Continent has not been forgotten.

“The tour will be incredible,” I say lightly. “The war is tragic, of course. But we must think of it as a look back in time, as a glimpse of how things used to be for our own people. It will be…it will be educational. And imagine the stories we shall have to tell!”

She smiles, but not with her eyes. “You’re right. I’m sure it will be a lovely trip.”

“It will be amazing,” I say, taking her hand. “Don’t worry for even a moment. It will be the single greatest adventure of my life, I’m sure.”