Across a Star-Swept Sea (21 page)

What had he been thinking, leaving her alone in Galatea? He wanted to believe nothing would happen to her there—that no matter what, Uncle Damos would be kind to her. But he realized more each day how little he truly knew about the man who’d raised them since their parents died.

Now the midnight blue of the night sky was rushing after the coral line of the setting sun. The trail of sparkling gold across the surface of the water narrowed, and the waves turned dark. He felt her hand, warm from the water, in his hair again.

“It feels so weird,” she said, brushing it back against its natural direction. “Prickly. Fuzzy. Like Slipstream.”

Justen jerked his head away. “I feel like your
rodent
?”

She pursed her lips, considering it. “Your hair does. A little. Slipstream is softer.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“He’s gengineered that way. To be soft, to be fast, to be playful and clever and cute. To be perfect for me.”

“Sorry I can’t oblige.” Unlike so many of his friends, Justen had never indulged in the gengineering that had become so popular since the revolution. There wasn’t enough regulation right now—as he’d argued to Persis when she’d been messing with her genetemps. Human gengineering was a dicey prospect. He knew that better than anyone.

“I’ll live.” She looked at him, eyes narrowed, then shook her head in confusion. “Why do men wear it so short in Galatea? And everyone so dark. Don’t you get bored, having everyone’s hair just be black like that?”

“I like black.”

“As your wardrobe proves,” she scoffed.

“Don’t you get tired of bleaching yours all the time?”

“I’ll endure a little boredom for the sake of beauty.” She pulled her hair over her shoulder. “If only we were all lucky enough to have juvenile canities like Isla’s royal line.”

Justen rolled his eyes. “Give them a few years, and the gengineers will make an argument for it.”

“Not in Albion—the royals would never allow it. It’s become such a signature.” Persis shrugged. “This color is new—or relatively. I’ve only had it about a year. Used to be a lovely deep magenta, but I found it was clashing with Slippy’s coat.”

“Can’t have that,” Justen murmured. “Where is your sea mink anyway?”

“On the cold side. It’s too hot over here for him.” Persis slipped off the ledge and treaded water in front of him. “Why? Do you find conversations about hairstyles that dull?”

“Deadly dull.”

“Then I fear you won’t have much fun pretending to be in love with me.” She shifted closer, “since, to sell our ruse, you’re going to have to pretend every word out of my mouth is utterly fascinating.”

He leaned in, too. “I think there are enough people who think that around here, Lady Blake. Maybe what you find so fascinating about
me
is that I don’t fall all over myself the second you speak.”

She murmured something incoherent.

“What?”

“I do find that fascinating,” she said more loudly. “If annoying.”

He shrugged.

She glided back and forth through the water inches from his legs, every bit as graceful and sinuous as Slipstream. “But we should figure it out. What could someone like
you
, with all your revolutionary ways, find so wonderful about me?”

He shrugged again. There were some, he supposed, who would fall for this silken, silly goddess.

“That’ll never do. We have to find something.”

“You’re rich and beautiful and the heir to this entire estate,” Justen pointed out. “That should be enough.”

She looked skeptical. “Not a very revolutionary sentiment.”

“Well, I’m a traitor to the revolution, so—”

Suddenly, Persis lunged forward, hooked her arm around his neck, and pressed her lips to his.

“Guh—” he said against her mouth.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, her tone urgent.

He did. Her lips were as full and lush as he’d expected. She tasted of sea salt and flowers. His hands skimmed her sides, bare and slippery, and the wet hem of her suit as he steadied her in the current. Her skin was firm and smooth, just as he’d imagined. She moaned a little as his fingers pressed into her thighs, holding her just the tiniest bit away from his body for his own sake. Her lips parted and she slid her tongue along his bottom lip.

Justen jerked away. Enough was enough. “Per—”

She laughed again and splashed him. “What’s wrong, Galatean?” she asked loudly. Very loudly. “Am I moving too fast for you?”

Even over the sound of the surf, he heard snickers. He looked back to see a group of figures huddled on the steps near the entrance to the cove. As soon as they realized he’d spotted them, they turned and, laughing, scampered back up the steps.

“Who—” he asked under his breath as he watched them go, neck craned to peer over the lip of rock.

“Some children from the village,” Persis whispered, still on his lap. She sounded oddly breathless, as if the kiss had taken her as much by surprise as it had him. “Naturally they’re spying. But don’t worry, you put on a good show. This will help our case significantly.” He felt her slide off his lap and turned to face her, then gasped.

For Persis was floating in a sea full of stars. He watched in wonder as she twirled in place, then submerged herself entirely for a moment, only to burst out of the water, scattering sparkles off her skin and hair. She caught him staring openmouthed, and smiled broadly.

“Welcome,” she said, “to Scintillans Cove.”

“What is it?” he asked in wonder.

“What are
they
,” she corrected, lifting another palmful of starry water and letting it trickle back down her hands. “They are phosphorescent coral spawn, and they love the warmth here in the cove.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Justen had pushed off his perch and joined Persis in the water. The stars sparkled in the wake of his movements and he waved his arms and kicked his legs, just for the pure pleasure of watching galaxies wing out in the eddies. He dove and opened his eyes beneath the surface, ignoring the sting of salt to see the marine universe unfold all around. In the silence, he thought he might be in space. When he was young, he and Vania had discovered a book in the library that described outer space missions in ancient times, missions like the one that had kept all their ancestors safe during the wars. He’d wondered then what it had been like for those people to float alone among the stars while the world burned.

This was exactly what he’d imagined.

When his lungs could take no more, he surfaced, blinded by the seawater for a moment. He rubbed his eyes and found Persis floating calmly beside him, a few arm’s lengths away.

“Have you any place like this in Galatea?” She was on her back, staring up at the real stars appearing in the sky. They were surrounded. Stars above, stars below, and Persis, floating a few inches away, her arms and legs brushing against his in the water, sparkling everywhere they touched. Her hair flowed, pale and ghostly, in the water, the curves of her body like little shimmering islands peeking above the surface. Even after his swim, he could taste her in his mouth.

Somehow, he found his voice. “No, we don’t, and I grew up on the shore. I’ve heard of sea phosphorescence before but …”

“This cove is pretty special,” Persis said. “All Scintillans is.”

“Yes.” Seawater dripped onto his face. Was he swallowing stars? Or—coral spawn. He shouldn’t think this a miracle. He shouldn’t find it so impressive. A simple chemical reaction in the juvenile body of the … they sparkled and swirled in the water before him.

All right. Stars.

“And you’re right, I’m the heir.”

He blinked. Had he missed some part of the conversation while underwater? Then he remembered. They were talking about what it is he’d say he loved about Persis.

But that was before the stars. Before the kiss. He doubted he’d have to say anything now. Those kids on the steps would be convinced. Everyone would.

“Which is why,” she went on, still looking up, while the real stars flickered to life in the slice of sky they could see beyond the cliffs, “it’s important who I’m with. It’s important that he be someone I can trust, because if I marry—he’ll get it all.”

Sixteen

F
OR THE FIRST TIME
since donning the mask that had defined her life for months, Persis found she didn’t resent the shallow, playful role she’d taken on. Here in the cove, with stars winking above the cliff top and weaving in and out of the knots in her hair, she could be the part of herself that wasn’t at odds with her faked persona. The part that entertained her mother with village chatter, who sailed her yacht in high winds and played with Slipstream on the shore. Justen had spent a day and a night fighting against the evils perpetuated by his fellow countrymen. He needed to relax. He needed laughter and splashing and … yes, even kisses. Who knew that better than a girl who’d spent months risking everything for the same purpose?

The kiss they’d shared had affected her more than she’d expected. It wasn’t her first kiss, or even the first time she’d kissed a boy for less than honest reasons. However, it might have been the first time she’d ever kissed someone who didn’t
want
her to.

Now that she knew how awful being on the receiving end of fake kisses felt, she never wanted to indulge in the practice again—though with her new duty as the object of Justen’s false affections, she doubted that was going to happen. She’d figured he’d enjoy it, what with him being a teenage boy and her being a pretty girl in a bathing suit. She’d thought he
was
enjoying it, and then, just as things had started getting interesting, he’d pushed her away.

And it had been here, in the star cove, where the greatest love story she knew had begun.

Two decades earlier, the young, idealistic heir to Scintillans had met his secret lover in this cove and told her that he didn’t care what it meant for his future in Albian society, that he didn’t even care if he was disowned by his parents or shunned by his king—he wouldn’t go another day without her by his side. Torin was rebellious and resolute, and Heloise was clever and charming, and theirs was a love story that won the hearts of the entire island.

Persis was the happily ever after of that story. It was her proud legacy and the cloud that hung over her head. She wondered how much longer her mother would remember the night Persis had been told about like a bedtime story all her life. The night her parents swam in the star cove and promised to defy every rule they knew. What if she fell in love like that, what if she married and had children and ended up as sick as her mother? She couldn’t do that to another family. Persis closed her eyes until she could breathe again. Love and duty, as the Blake family motto went.

For months now, the latter trumped the former.

“Are you saying that your future husband will be in charge here?” Justen asked, appalled.

“Yes, of course.”

“Of course?” Justen scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. You were born here. This land is yours.”

Well, if that wasn’t the least revolutionary thing she’d ever heard him say. “Well, lucky for me, I have no interest in such boring pursuits as land ownership. I’d be happy to let my future husband handle that sort of thing.”

“I find that hard to believe, Persis. I bet you won’t even let your future husband pick out his own clothes.”

She smiled in spite of herself. He had her there. “The laws of Albion require that a woman and her holdings are the property of her father, her husband, her brother, or her son. Women can’t inherit unless there’s no man in the picture at all.”

“Then if I were you,” Justen said, “I’d never marry at all. Stay single and control your land as you see fit.”

She laughed and splashed at him. “You wouldn’t condemn the villagers to a life of foolishness and fashion, would you?”

“No, but I doubt you would either. You love the people here too much. You can’t fool me, Lady Blake.”

That stopped her in her tracks. She had
better
fool him. She might be forgetting herself here in the star cove, but her mission was still all-important. Then again, maybe it was time to stop lying to Justen. If he was working to help the refugees, he was halfway in the League already.

And what would he do if she did tell him? Would he even believe her? Would he fight by her side? Would he kiss her for real?

She cleared her throat. “It’s how things work in Albion, though. Men make the decisions. This is why Isla is only the princess regent, and her infant brother is the king. If Albie had never been born, they’d be pressuring Isla to marry as soon as possible, so the country could get a proper king.”

Justen snorted. “Some hereditary rule. You can take control of the country just by marrying the princess?”

“I suppose you prefer taking control of the country through a military coup, Citizen Helo?” she snapped.

Justen squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. “No. That’s not what I meant.”

And Persis had not meant to turn to such a serious topic. That wasn’t how the flaky, shallow girl she pretended to be would act if she had brought a handsome young man down to the star cove. Even one she was just pretending to like for Isla’s sake. She mustn’t forget herself, no matter how many stars sparked against her skin, no matter what Justen had done today for the people the Poppy had rescued. This was a mission—same as any other. She was used to the role of Persis Flake. She needed to remember that the role of starry-eyed admirer of Justen Helo was just as false.

“I had wanted the queen removed from office,” he said quietly, returning to the ledge. “She was cruel to her subjects and unfair to the regs. Personally, I’d already argued with her more than a year ago about access to my grandmother’s research. She … patronized me. Acted like I was a child playing scientist instead of a student doing legitimate research. It was right of the people of Galatea to seek to remove her from power. I will not deny that. But—everything else. It wasn’t motivated by justice. It was something much darker.”