As the ship begins to rise, Elliott and Kent stay outside, but Will stumbles into the cabin, his face pale. He busies himself folding several of the maps, and then passing around glasses and several bottles. He motions for Henry to help him, and the little boy happily retrieves a basket to help serve everyone.
The anonymous girl is staring across the cabin at Will. Henry tries to get her attention to offer her a slice of bread, but she doesn’t acknowledge him. When Will glances up for a second, she blushes bright red.
I glance at April, who is also watching the girl watch Will.
“It didn’t take her long to forget her boyfriend,” I say under my breath. But my voice carries, and she hears.
She gives me a defiant glare. “He was my brother.”
I open my mouth, prepared to apologize, but she shakes her head. Her eyes are red-rimmed, beyond tears. I understand. I am the only one on this ship who can understand.
April leans close to me and whispers, “I know you’re mad at Will . . . don’t seem to be speaking to him . . . but you could have him if you want. We both know it. Even Elliott knows it. Sometimes the rest of us just need to stare at him for a few minutes.”
She gives me her evil smile, and I marvel at how badly she’s misjudged the situation. Will doesn’t want me. Maybe he used to, but now there’s too much guilt between us. And I have gained just enough self-worth not to fall for him again.
The ship lurches a few times, and then it feels like we are free of the roof. I was close to convincing Elliott to return to the city before we heard the screams. But are we headed that way now? I stand to go out on deck, but Thom comes to the doorway of the small cabin and gestures for me to join him. Henry is curled up on one of the cots, and Elise looks up when we come in but quickly loses interest in us.
“Miss April’s sicker than she knows,” he says without preamble. “I’ve seen a lot of people with the contagion. None of us know why some die and we don’t. At least we didn’t, until the reverend came.”
His voice goes low and worshipful when he speaks of Malcontent.
“The reverend? Why did you escape with us, if you think so well of him?” I watch his face closely.
“I was afraid of the burning, the flooding. But no matter what he does, Malcontent is the only person without the disease who looks at me like he doesn’t care.”
As if to prove his point, the sore across his cheek begins to ooze, and I have to force myself not to look away.
“I’m telling you. You need to get Miss April back to the city.” When he says her name, he blushes deep red.
“So there’s nothing to be done?” I ask. “People like her would come to your settlement, and they would always die?”
“Not always,” he says softly. “The reverend chose to save some. He might save her. His daughter.”
Malcontent did tell April that he could cure her. But I don’t trust him. Still, it’s an option if my own father can’t be found.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say.
“She doesn’t have much time, miss,” he says earnestly. And I know that he is speaking the truth.
Henry follows me back into the main cabin and climbs onto my lap, pressing his face against my neck. Even in the weak light of a single lantern, I can see a new bruise at the base of April’s throat. I make sure Henry’s mask is secure, and then my own.
She catches me and grimaces. Shame floods through me, especially after Thom just told me how he felt about the way we look at him. But I can’t help checking Henry’s mask a second time.
“Does it feel terrible?” I ask.
“Yes. It itches and I look . . .” She trails off. “I look worse every day,” she says finally. “You have your makeup bag. Maybe we can do something about it.” She takes her small mirror from the bag and winces at her reflection. “Let’s do you first. At least you’re still pretty.” Though I’m restless, I sit still as she pushes my hair back from my face, then gathers it in a bun at the base of my neck. “We need some feathers,” she mutters. I smile despite myself.
The girl we rescued is watching us, her expression wistful. April may seem silly with her love of bright, sparkly things, but she got me through the aftermath of my own brother’s death. Even now, she can make me smile. Has this girl, staring at us so intently, ever had a friend? It’s hard to make them when everyone is dying.
“Where did you live?” April asks. April only knows a few areas of the city, but it’s better to talk to the girl than to ignore her.
“Wherever my brother could find a place,” the girl says. “Wherever we were together was home.”
“What’s your name?” April asks.
“Mina,” she answers, before she turns toward the wall. The conversation is over. We don’t say anything else to her.
Henry has fallen asleep, so I lay him on the cot, tucking a blanket over him before I walk outside.
The wind has picked up, though the sky is blessedly free of clouds. As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to flying like this.
“So, where are we going?” I ask, looking from Elliott to Kent. I hold my breath. I won’t go to the prince’s palace. I’ll make them drop me off here, wherever we are. But I’m not sure how far I will get on my own.
“Back to the city,” Elliott says. I wait for him to look at me, but instead he stares out over the wilderness beneath us. “My city needs me. My people need me.”
“We can’t go in during daylight.” Kent smiles. He knows as well as I do that this is our best chance to save April. But then he furrows his brow. “They shot us down as we were leaving, and it was nearly dark. We’ll have to bring the ship in on a night with no moon. That’s five nights from now.”
Five nights? April doesn’t have that kind of time. “We can’t wait—” I begin.
“I’m going in now,” Elliott tells us. “I’m tired of waiting. Kent can set me down near the outskirts of the city. In five days, I’ll have the roof of the Debauchery Club ready to conceal the ship.”
Kent nods. “I can put you down half a day’s walk from the city. You can be inside by lunchtime tomorrow.”
“We’ll have everything ready,” I say.
Elliott and Kent both turn to me. “You could wait with us. With April,” Kent says. “We’ll be back to the city before you know it.” He watches Elliott, as if looking for some sign indicating what Elliott wants me to do.
Elliott’s voice is thoughtful. “It would be safer for me to go alone.”
“You need me,” I say.
He doesn’t ask why, or what I think my presence will accomplish. Elliott won’t find Father without me, but I’m not sure how to convince him of that.
And I don’t have to, because he nods.
Kent presses his lips together, and I’m certain that he doesn’t approve. Alone in the city for five nights with Elliott. The idea is . . . daunting. Elliott smiles at me. Not a friendly smile—a mocking, suggestive one. I’m not going back to the city simply to keep him company, and he needs to know that.
“We have to find my father quickly so he can help April. Help all of us.”
“You’ll find him,” Kent says. He, at least, is sincere in what he says.
I look out, gripping the railing. We’re no longer over the swamp. Instead, we’re flying over neat squares of farmland. There are orchards and fields, farms, silos to store the grain. I point, amazed at how orderly and beautiful it is.
Elliott laughs. “Where did you think the food came from? We don’t grow it in the city.” Turning to Kent, he continues. “Take all of the gold. Buy whatever food you can. It must be getting scarce.”
“The rising swamp threatens these farms as well,” Kent says. “They need better ways to drain the excess water.”
“It all comes down to water,” Elliott muses. Then, to me, “We should give him the journal, in case something happens to us. Do you mind?”
He’s asking my permission for something? Unbelievable.
“Father would want him to read it,” I say. Father knows I wouldn’t really understand, and he made no secret that he hates Elliott.
Kent takes it reverently. “I’ll read every word. And we’ll discuss when we are reunited. Elliott, find Dr. Worth and make sure he is safe. He is the key to everything.”
Elliott’s slightly singed eyebrows draw together. He doesn’t like my father any more than my father likes him.
“We’ll find him, and keep him alive, but it won’t be easy. Not with these circulating.” He hands Kent the pamphlet I’d picked up during our escape and tucked into the journal. “Is this Will’s work?”
The wind picks up and I wish the paper would blow away, but of course Kent keeps a firm grip on it.
“No,” I say, without meaning to. More than anything, I do not want that pamphlet to have anything to do with Will. He must have printed it after our friendship had begun. Another betrayal.
“Will is the only one in the city who is this good,” Kent says reluctantly. His eyes shift over to me. “But, Araby, even if he printed this, it was still about survival. He ran the printing press for money to support himself and the children.”
“Perhaps,” Elliott says. “Or maybe he came under the sway of a certain Reverend Malcontent. Maybe our Will had a little religious conversion?”
Below us are apple orchards, rows upon rows of beautiful trees. I try to focus on the beauty of the scene, not the reality that Will spent his spare time printing pamphlets calling for my father’s death.
Will once said that science had failed. Could he have been working for Malcontent? If that was the case, was letting the prisoner go a mistake at all? Now it seems even more sinister.
“Will never worked for Malcontent,” Kent says, with confidence that is clearly bolstered by their long friendship. But he’s never had a reason to doubt Will. He gestures to some point in the distance, neatly changing the subject. “I’ll set you down by that turn in the stream. You’ll want to travel light.”
I turn back to the cabin to grab a few things.
“I’ve never trusted Will,” Elliott mutters as he follows me into the main cabin. “Especially not now.”
In the cabin, Henry is still asleep, but Elise is awake, sitting close to April, who has carefully braided her hair.
Elliott opens a chest sitting in the corner and scoops out an assortment of coins, pouring them into several small leather pouches. “In case we get separated.”
April looks back and forth between us. “Are we going back into the city tonight?” she asks. I hate to leave her, but the way her sores are spreading, people will see that she’s diseased. She wouldn’t be safe on the streets. And she’s not strong enough to fight back.
“We are. Not you,” Elliott says. Then, to me, “It’s going to be cold tonight. Grab some blankets.”
While April sulks and I collect blankets, Elliott puts on a rather bulky coat, and knives disappear into random hidden pockets. Then he grabs a valise and sorts what appears to be a chemistry set. He adds several needles and vials, but then, catching my eye, he pockets a silver syringe.