Page 26 of Carousel

Everyone is looking at me. I’m suddenly very aware I must look like a bewildered little girl.

I force my features to compose themselves.

“No. I don’t.”

I turn away, not wanting to see Cosmer’s reaction to my words – and spot Vikemy, now standing outside Temple, across from us.

The family resemblance is definitely there. But where Vikemy looks like he might bite you if you got too close, I decide that for all of his quirks, Dezeeves looks like a mild, unassuming man. Like you could easily get close enough to bite him. Except doing so would probably leave you poisoned.

Dezeeves greets him with warmth. “Come to wave us off?”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” Vikemy scolds.

“Why not? Can’t we celebrate our wins?”

“Your wins, you mean.”

“Oh, Vikemy. Don’t pretend you won’t take the credit when the time comes. We all know The Assembly still think you wrote your bid.”

Vikemy sweeps a look over Drake and I. Turns up his hooked nose. “Not even going to shackle them?”

“No, no. Far too much trouble. Kept losing the keys.”

“Your complacency will get you killed one day, brother.”

Dezeeves just beams harder. “Should we call you a doctor, Vikemy? You’ve just shown more concern in sixty seconds than you have in sixty years.”

Vikemy scowls. Although that might just be his face.

Something is passing wordlessly between them. It looks like pain, or resentment. Or…

Dezeeves breaks first.

“Come, Cosmer,” Dezeeves says. “We’d better get going. I’m sure Vikemy doesn’t want to be party to this any more than he already has been.”

My gaze falls on Cosmer again, and see his was fixed on Drake, his mouth tight and his skin taut over those sharp cheeks. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. But I do decide the fact he grew to look like that is salt in the wound he’s opened in me. People without hearts don’t deserve to be attractive.

He looks away as he strolls past us. I watch him swing into the ship with that same easy athletic ability he’d had at sixteen – the boy who could climb walls and walk on his hands. He flips levers at the control table, adjusts dials, and looks busy. Comfortable.

The thought that he can, it seems, fly ships, but never thought to fly one to me, fills me with what can only be quiet rage.

Dezeeves points towards the ship. “Ara and Drake. Your chariot awaits.”

I consider, for a heartbeat, making a run for it. Because what if I could avoid my fate? Not have to get into this strange contraption, or become a prisoner, and eventually, loyal to Hevalla?

What if I didn’t have to leave my family?

I think it through as if it’s a real option.

I’ll run, right now. Make it to them. We could pack what we could carry – we don’t own much anyway. We could start walking.

But where would I lead them? What kind of life could I provide for them, in this hot, dry country, on the run?

And if bombs fall…

My head throbs. Blocks out everything else – which is bad, because I really need to be able to think right now.

“Thinking about running?”