The Continent (The Continent #1)(6)

“No,” I say, flushing. “Of course not! Anyway, my friends are too kind to be envious, even if I were boasting about the Continent. I only meant that I understand your mother’s enthusiasm.”

“Your friends were excited on your behalf, then?”

“Thrilled for me,” I say fondly. “I can’t wait to tell them all about it! Especially Evangeline—she’s my closest friend, and a map enthusiast in her own right—though she is bound for a career in government, for that is where her talent lies.”

“She sounds lovely,” he says. “I haven’t got many companions. It’s nice you have people waiting on your return.”

This puzzles me; Aaden is handsome and well-spoken, and from a prestigious family—why should he not have many friends? “Well, I suppose it will be nice to share news of the Continent when we arrive back home,” I say, but quickly change the subject. “Do you get on well with your family?”

“Ah. Sadly, no. I don’t quite fit the bill in terms of fatherly expectations. But you—you seem to be very close with your parents.”

I smile. “Oh, yes—it’s always been like that. I’m very lucky, I suppose.”

“We’re ready to board now,” calls the steward. “Please make your way through, and we’ll file you up one at a time.”

“That was quick,” my mother says.

It’s Mrs. Shaw who is quick; she’s at the metal stairway in a heartbeat. The steward gives her a friendly smile. “Let’s start with you, madam. There we are, watch your step.”

She clambers up the stairs, one hand on her hat and one on the railing, her shoes clacking against the grille. Then she stops and narrows her eyes at the steward. “Our luggage is all accounted for?” she asks. “There were several pieces I’m sure I didn’t see on the trolley.”

“Your belongings are counted and stowed, Mrs. Shaw,” the steward says in a soothing tone. “Come along now.”

She takes a reluctant step forward. “Oh, I do hope I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Mr. Shaw laughs. “My dear, if you’d brought anything more, the heli-plane might not have the strength to fly.”

Aaden drops back to wait beside me as his mother and father disappear into the aircraft. “What do you think of the plane?” he says. “Ever seen one before?”

“Never. My mother prefers to travel by train, even to visit our relatives in the North. But it’s very impressive—much more beautiful than I thought it would be.”

“I’ve been to the West aboard one larger than this,” he says. “It was a very nice piece of machinery. You know that’s where they build them? In the West?”

“I didn’t know.”

My parents are at the top of the stairs now, and my mother turns back toward me. “Vaela,” she calls. “It’s time!”

Aaden extends an arm toward the metal stairway. “After you, Miss Sun.”

As I climb up toward the plane, a thrill runs through me. This is it—the first real step of the journey, the moment where everything begins. I will see the Continent before the sun sets. It is a momentous feeling indeed.

Aboard the plane, the whole group crowds into what I assume is the main cabin. We are clustered together in an open space toward the front of the plane, facing two sections of plush seats that are separated by a wide aisle. There are three rows in total, and six small windows punctuate the side walls of the aircraft—something Mrs. Shaw is quick to notice.

“Is this where we’re to view the Continent?” she says, a note of surprise in her voice.

“Yes, madam,” the steward says. “You will enjoy lovely views from the window seats.”

“But those are practically…portholes!” she exclaims. “Couldn’t we get a plane with proper windows, Arthur? I don’t know how we’ll manage to see a thing!”

Aaden sits down in one of the front row seats. “They’re small so the heli-plane isn’t ripped apart while we’re flying, Mother. Structural integrity and all that.” He taps on the thick glass and grins at her. “Don’t worry, they’re big enough. I expect you won’t have any trouble watching the Topi chop the Aven’ei to pieces.”

Mrs. Shaw looks pointedly at her husband. “It was you who gave him all those books about the Continent, and it is you who is to blame for his vulgarity. You’ve stuffed his brain chock-full of morbid imaginings.”

“If I may,” the steward says, stepping forward before Mr. Shaw can reply, “I should like to familiarize each of you with the heli-plane. You’ll be spending several hours on board each day, so I want to make sure that you’re all quite comfortable.”

“Is there more to see?” Mrs. Shaw says, looking around the small space. “I assumed this was the passenger cabin.”

“So it is, madam, but we have another cabin at your disposal. It’s just aft of this one. It has no windows, and if you find yourself overwhelmed by the scenery during any of your excursions, you might consider it a welcome retreat.”

“Let’s take a look,” Aaden says.

One by one, we follow the steward down the aisle toward the rear of the plane and step through the narrow doorway. The aft cabin is smaller than the first, and slightly oblong in shape. There are no seats; only padded benches placed along the sectioned walls.