“I hear there’s a library on board,” I said. “Board games and cards too.” We needed a distraction, something to keep our minds occupied.
Malita’s gaze flicked toward me, but she gave no signs of interest as she shoved food around her plate. Niffin ignored me altogether.
“Fine, no games,” I said. “How about I throw you both overboard for a chilly swim?”
That caught Niffin’s attention. His mouth popped open, and his eyebrows arched above his spectacle rims. A pink flush flooded his cheeks.
“How about a training lesson then?” I dropped my napkin on the table and stood. “Teach me some of those techniques you’ve taught Malita.” My request was genuine, but I could tell he suspected I wanted something more from him than training. He wasn’t wrong. “Just you and me.”
Malita’s brow crumpled, and her lips turned down even farther. Before she could object, I pointed at the side table where a waiter was laying out a plate of muffins. “Why don’t you take a snack back to the room. Enjoy a little peace and quiet.” I squeezed her shoulder. “If you look in my bags, you’ll find a roll of blank parchment and a few pencils.”
Not so long ago, Malita’s drawings had been our primary means of communication. She was a talented artist. She considered my suggestion for a moment, tapping her lip as she furrowed her brow. Then she nodded, stood, and swished by us, stopping to collect muffins and tea before leaving the room.
“Well...” Niffin gnawed his bottom lip, staring at the doorway through which Malita had disappeared. “If one of the duties of a queen is to arbitrate peace, then you are well on your way to earning your crown.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on. Let’s find a quiet place away from the crowds. I bet the other passengers won’t be too understanding if they spot me struggling to get away from you.”
We found an area on the main deck near the stern, free from onlookers. A stiff breeze from the north had brought an uncomfortable chill, and the paddlewheels threw up enough mist and raised enough clatter to discourage casual visitors. I buttoned my coat and rocked on my feet to keep my body warm and blood pumping.
Though not as tall as Gideon or as broad, Niffin still stood half a head higher than me. His lean muscles were strong and ropey like the cables of hemp coiled about the deck. At first glance, he might not have seemed intimidating, but one encounter with his subtle strength would probably make most assailants reluctant to fight him twice.
“Let us work on escaping wrist grabs.” He removed his tinted spectacles, pushed up his sleeves, and raked his dark hair off his brow. Waggling his fingers, he held out his hand, motioning for me to give him my arm. His long fingers curled around my wrist, squeezing until I gritted my teeth. “First thing is to step back and spread your feet. Get your balance.”
Once I’d followed his instructions, he continued. “Relax. The tighter your joints and muscles are, the harder it is to turn your wrist.”
Again, I complied.
“Stay loose, but quickly turn your thumb toward mine. It should force me to loosen my grip. The moment it does, try to pull free.”
We worked through the simple routine until I perfected it. Then he taught me to escape a two-handed wrist grab. We added in a knee jab to disable my attacker long enough for me to flee. Satisfied with my performance, Niffin suggested we take a break from the noise and cold breeze. I agreed, and together we strolled to the dining room.
He poured two glasses of water and passed one to me. “You were determined, and you did a good job, but...” He gazed at the mural painted on the dining room's opposite wall—a fierce sea goddess battling an aquatic monster, its tentacles rendered in such fantastic detail that it seemed alive and eager to seize an unsuspecting passenger. “I assume training was not your real reason for wanting to be alone with me, Ev—” He cleared his throat. “Liesl.”
Away from the ocean breeze, the air felt warmer, staler, thicker. I sipped my water as sweat trickled down my neck. “I might’ve had an ulterior motive.”
“You are curious about the fight you overheard last night, yes?”
“I don’t need the details. I only need to know you’re keeping the promise you gave me in that field on the outskirts of Pecia. You’re keeping Malita safe above all else, right?” I wished I could make him promise to keep her happy, too, but that was unfair to them both. Initially, Niffin was little more than an acquaintance in the periphery of my thoughts. Over the past weeks, he and his family had come to mean much more to me, and he deserved my utmost sympathy—the same sympathy I would’ve offered a brother, if I’d had one. “You’d make her happy if you could. I know it.”
“I would.” The earnestness in his purple eyes scorched me. “I would do anything.”
“I know you’re frustrated.” I rose up on my toes until we were nearly eye to eye. “But you can’t take it out on her.”
He raked his hands through his hair and let out a heavy breath. “I vow I would never do such a thing, but this whole situation has made me shorter tempered than usual. Malita’s homesickness has affected her similarly. She is a flame, I am a fuse, and together we have become rather...” He puffed out his cheeks and spread his hands like dispersing smoke. “Explosive.”
“You still love her, though?”
His jaw clenched, shoulders going rigid. His tone turned low and menacing. “Never suggest otherwise.”
Another passenger squeezed in, pouring a cup of tea from an urn on the table beside us. Flinching, Niffin seemed to remember himself, where he was, and who we were supposed to be—or more importantly, who we were not supposed to be. He slid his spectacles in place and drew me away from the refreshments table, away from prying eyes and curious ears.
“We can’t keep avoiding this issue.” I swallowed the last of my water and set my glass on an empty table. “If I had my way, I'd make you permanent residents of Inselgrau. You’re both valuable to me, but I’m afraid I’d only be making myself happy with that arrangement.”
“It is an honor to serve a queen.” He took my hand, bent his knee slightly, and pressed a dry kiss to my knuckle. “Especially if that queen is you.”
I drew my hand back, ignoring the wry grin playing on his face. “This standoff between you and Malita can’t keep going. It’s painful to watch. I can’t imagine how painful it must be to endure firsthand.” I drew in a deep breath, carefully considering my next words. “I'm afraid I have to insist, no matter what Justina said, that once we finish our business in Steinerland, you’ll take Malita home. The decision of what you should do after that is up to the both of you.”
I met his hard amethyst gaze and raised my chin. “You’re always welcome in my home, Niffin, wherever that home winds up being. I’d be honored to have you as my diplomat, but I’d give you freedom to come and go at your will. You’d never be kept away from your people, as long as you were there to help me when I needed it.”
Narrowing his eyes, he tapped his bottom lip. “Perhaps I should insist I stay with you until you reach Inselgrau, but I am afraid I am too human, and my heart is too soft when it comes to Malita.”
“She’s your priority?”
He nodded.
“Good. That’s what I’ve always expected from you.”
“After Steinerland, I will do whatever Malita wishes. I will take her back to Nri, to Chagda, if that is her desire.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Perhaps the winds will blow me back to Inselgrau. Perhaps they will not. Either way, I am always your friend.”
I patted his shoulder. “I’ve never doubted it.”
That afternoon, a minor sea squall blew in, rocking the ship, turning passengers green and nauseous. Niffin and Malita, intrepid sailors of the sky, shrugged off the storm’s effects and joined me in a nearly empty dining room for supper. I purposely selected a table close to the captain’s. After listening to him grumble that the storm could delay our arrival, I caught Niffin and Malita’s gazes and gestured for them to follow me outside. We staggered to the starboard side and clung to the railing as the ship heaved and rolled.
Closing my eyes, I calmed my thoughts and extended my senses. Something inside my chest unfurled like a fern uncurling to welcome a ray of sunlight.
Hello, dear, said my grandfather’s spirit. Have you found us some evening entertainment?
“Not too entertaining,” I whispered. “But a chance to stretch our legs, at least.”
