Page 201 of Carousel

“We’ll be with them again.” My words come out whispered, like I’m talking about doing something against Hevallan law.

Because it sounds impossible.

Cosmer’s smile grows. “This wouldn’t be classed as desertion – you can’t desert an evacuated ship.”

He bends out of the doorway. His pupils are wide as moons. The blood in the whites of his eyes could be constellations.

“We’ll be together, Ara.”

He kisses me. I kiss him back.

It’s the most wonderful, and most heart-breaking, thing in the world.

He pulls back. “We can get married,” he continues, his words ploughing on, right into my heart. “If we want to. My mother would be so happy.” Quieter, voice rasping, he says, “We can have a family someday. Do you want that?” He doesn’t let me answer. “Because I do. I’ve never known what a father is. I’d like to change that.” He adds, his smile lopsided, “I think I’d be a great one.”

“You would.” I believe it, irrevocably.

He sounds full of hope. “Do you want all that, too?”

My chest seizes.

“I want all of it.” I’m barely breathing.

“Come on, then,” he says, slumping back and letting our hands separate. “Get in the ship.”

I don’t move for a second.

But then I do. Grasping the doorway, I hoist myself up…

But fall backwards, in spasm.

I’m confused, panicking, as I twitch on the hot floor, my limbs at odd angles.

Pain. So much pain. Like a punishment.

My head is sound and colour. My eyes feel as if they’re bulging out of their sockets. The metal ceiling above me is rippling outwards like the Queen’s Lake on an overcast day.

I’m vaguely aware of Cosmer leaping out of the ship and crouching over me. He’s yelling my name.

And then my eyelids slam down shut like hatch doors, and I’m aware of nothing but the inside of my dark, simmering mind.

I smell her before I see her.

“Old Mother?” I cry out. “What’s happening?”

She appears in a puff of smoke behind me.

Any rage I had remaining for her dissolves like the light around us. She’s frightened. I can feel it.

I don’t have long, child, she signs.

“Tell me what’s happening.”

A card flies into my hand. I hold it up. All I see are ruby flames. Cracks are drawn on the card, as if the paper itself is splitting.

Fire.

Death.