Page 55 of The Red Woman on Mars

Vivian froze in the middle of her bedroom. Xavier had dealt with Silas all his life. He would know what to do.

She located her modest credit chit, changed her clothes, put on shoes and a hat, and left the deserted dormitory. Presentation Day was only four days away. She needed to hurry.

Sneaking out of the compound had become routine. Vivian swung her small duffel over one shoulder, pulled herself up the tree, perched for a moment at the top, and dropped over the wall. She had consulted a map on the information nexus before departing and memorized the route. The journey had seemed simple enough to plan in the comfort of the dormitory. Dorsey Estatehad its own station and getting to it only required a single transfer point in the industrial district.

On the streets of Arcadia, she kept her head low. No one was looking at her, she reminded herself. She wore her drabbest auburn dress and kept her hair tucked under a modest taupe hat. She paid her fare with a tap of her credit chit and settled in for the long journey.

Delilah had left her.

Left Arcadia.

With a man who could not be trusted.

Vivian drummed her fingers on her bag. Did the Arcadian trains always move this slow? She hadn’t taken a train often and never crossed the full dome. Most of the time, when she’d had the opportunity to leave the dormitory grounds, she’d been whisked along in some oligarch’s private groundcar.

As the train stops progressed, the types of passengers in the car changed. More Martians got off and more Earthers got on. The head coverings grew more practical in appearance and more of the women wore pants or jumpsuits. Many of the riders sank wearily into seats, dirt beneath their fingernails and soot on their faces. Vivian’s drabbest dress appeared more and more finely woven and well-cut the closer the train got to the industrial district.

Finally, she reached the transfer spot. Vivian followed the others exiting the car and looked around. She’d expected after her walk through the industrial district with Ren that she would be oriented, but instead she found herself lost on the unfamiliar streets and wasting precious minutes wandering around looking for the stop for the Dorsey line.

She caught the train just before the doors closed and sat panting on the hard chair, trying to regain her composure. As the train moved away from the industrial district, Vivian watchedthe rougher-clad Earther commuters dwindle, replaced by well-dressed Martians. A few stared at her with open curiosity. She remembered Ivey’s words:Clothing is a game.Her Earther build and her aristocratic clothing didn’t add up in the eyes of the other passengers. Vivian sat up taller and hid her unease behind a smooth, expressionless face.

Next stop: Dorsey Station, an automated voice announced.

Vivian dismounted at last. Her back ached from the hard seats, and her stomach rumbled. She began making her way slowly down the street before lifting up her weary head.

Dorsey Estate was stunning.

The main house stood high on the rising ground of a crater with immense picturesque windows overlooking the surrounding lovely, if more modest, dwellings. Instead of the formal, stately trappings of Yarrow House and Hayes House, the Dorsey home seemed to embrace the natural Martian landscape, blending into the surroundings with clean modern lines and sharp edges. The square black beams, dark metal windows, and rusted steel fencing echoed the harsh, minimal beauty of Mars.

At the gate, Vivian rang the bell and nervously gave her name to the security screen. The gates swung open with a creak. She walked down an angular walkway dotted with spiky plants with torch-like red flowers jutting from their tops. The house’s floor-to-ceiling glass doors slid open as she approached.

“Vivian Bowen?” In the spacious entryway, a young Martian woman descended floating, faux-wood stairs. Her angular face resembled Xavier’s but her clothing looked nothing like the style of the Martian oligarchs. Her dress ended with a flare just below her knees, dyed in splashes of bright orange, pink, and yellow. Her hair was styled in puffs on either side of a jaunty miniature purple top hat. On her tiny feet, she wore black slippers. “How … unexpected. But my brother did say you were bold.”

Vivian’s heart hammered in her chest. Now that she was here at Dorsey House, she was at a loss for words. Surely a Red Mother descending upon a counselor’s home without warning violated a dozen rules of Martian etiquette. “Is Xavier—Mr. Dorsey—is he here?”

“He is.” The young woman looked her up and down. “X is currently tied up in meetings. Am I correct to assume you are here without invitation?”

“I—yes. Will he see me?”

She grunted. “He’ll see you. His exact words to me were, ‘Don’t you dare let her leave.’ ”

Relief flooded through Vivian, and a soft smile escaped her lips. Despite everything, she’d missed him.

The woman gave a short, silvery laugh. “So hehashad an impact on you. I couldn’t tell from his version of events.” She inclined her head, and the black feathers affixed to her little top hat wobbled. “I’m Zuri.”

First names then. “Vivian.”

“Won’t you come upstairs to the drawing room, Vivian?”

She followed Xavier’s sister up the floating stairs. Floor-to-ceiling window walls overlooked the rust-colored Martian landscape. A shiny black upright piano stood in one corner.

Zuri pressed a recessed button on the wall. “Refreshments for Miss Bowen, if you please.” She gestured for Vivian to take a seat on a dark leather loveseat and sat down across from her. “Have you selected a spouse, Vivian?”

“No. I mean, not yet.”

Zuri raised her brows. “Aren’t you cutting it close? Ever since I got home, the big wedding on Presentation Day is allArcadia Lifewill talk about. I heard it’s going to be televised live from the Council chamber.”

“I have four days.” Vivian tried to ignore the way the sentence made her heart beat faster.