Wayfarer (Passenger 2)

There was a long moment where no one spoke at all, not even Julian, who looked like he had a few thoughts on the matter. Li Min turned, shifting the bag on her shoulder as she passed the three of them. Whatever she whispered to Sophia seemed to enrage her further. The breath was steaming in and out of her, her pale face blooming a vicious red. Her one visible eye was screwed shut.

“Well, this has been a day of, ah, fascinating revelations,” Julian said, daring to approach his former fiancée. He put a gentle hand on her shoulder, which she immediately knocked away.

“She was watching both you and Nicholas separately?” Etta asked. The question seemed so ridiculous that she almost couldn’t get it out. “Or were you…are you working together?”

Sophia crossed her arms over her chest, turning her gaze out over the water. Her face mirrored the rough, jagged lines of the mountain, rendering her unrecognizable to Etta.

“Should we be preparing to catch her?” Julian murmured out of the side of his mouth. “Grab for the shirt, I’ll try for an arm—”

Etta thumped him across the chest. Hard.

In Etta’s mind, Sophia was always burning, always straining toward something. Now she stood with her face toward the bitter wind and welcomed it. She tilted her chin up, the way only Ironwoods seemed able to, and a smirk slid into place.

“You’re hilarious, Linden,” she said. “Work with him? I wouldn’t let Carter polish my shoes.”

“Soph!” Julian said, his voice sharp.

“Do you really want to take issue with that, considering all those things you called him in the past?” Sophia said. “Whoreson, gold-digger, ratfink—”

“Enough.” Julian took a step forward, his face pale, his hair ringed by snow. “Enough! I know what I said in the past, and I was wrong for it. It doesn’t excuse you to say any of it now.”

“Aw,” she said, cooing at him in a repulsive way. “Have I upset you? Or are you struggling with the reality that your bastard brother is now enjoying all of your old spoils of being heir?”

This was a trick Etta was familiar with—Sophia’s uncanny ability to zero in on a chink in a person’s armor and slip a blade through it. If Etta had had anything remotely sharp on her, it would have been wedged in the girl’s windpipe in return.

“Liar,” Etta said simply.

“Am I? I’ve been following him for weeks, that’s all. I’ve watched him drift back into the old man’s arms happily. Willingly. He’s overseeing all of Ironwood’s business ventures, repairing the changes caused by the timeline shifts, advising him. It’s absolutely precious how well they work together. The old man actually looks happy. He’s leaving Carter in charge of things, while he goes off to the auction.”

Julian swallowed hard, glancing over at Etta, as if to gauge how possible this might be. She shook her head.

“He certainly didn’t come looking for you, did he?” Sophia said.

A thin, hot thread began to weave itself in and out of Etta’s chest.

“He thought her dead,” Julian cut in. “As you did.”

“And yet he’s working for the man who was supposedly responsible for her death. It shows you exactly who he is, doesn’t it? You had it in your head he was so good, such a hero, but he’s no better than the rest of us. Your whole ‘relationship,’ your love—your infatuation—was based on deals and transactions. Payment to bring you to Ironwood. Payment to stop you from taking the astrolabe. Shall I go on?”

Etta’s stomach turned so sharply that she tasted bile. Not true. Not true. Sophia didn’t understand. She wasn’t there to see his regret. She didn’t know Nicholas at all.

“Do you want to know why I’m here? The same reason you are: I want that gold they’re carrying out, in order to attend a little auction for something stolen from me.”

Of course she was. It was all about her, always. And just like that, Etta reached the end of the frayed patience that she had been clinging to. She lunged forward, ripping the knife out of Sophia’s hand, and slammed the girl back against the rock behind her. Etta braced one arm over Sophia’s chest, and brought the blade up just beneath her chin.

“Good lord!” Julian said, half in appreciation, half in horror. “The two of you bring out the worst in each other.”

They ignored him.

“Too high,” Sophia said, the words curling around Etta like smoke. “Lower. Did you already forget what I taught you?”

Etta’s grip didn’t ease. “You still don’t see it, do you? The astrolabe has to be destroyed.”

Sophia laughed—actually laughed. “Would you still be saying that if you knew what would happen, I wonder?”

“I’ve accepted that my future can’t exist,” Etta said. “You’re the only one who still thinks she can get everything she wants in life.”

“If you destroy that astrolabe, you’ll have nothing you want in life,” Sophia said. “Of course you don’t know. You’re nothing but a sweet little sheep being led by the nose, bleating on about right and wrong—wake up, Linden! There is no right and wrong, only choices. And you’ve made a decision without even having all the facts.”

“What are you on about?” Julian asked, ineffectually trying to separate the two. “Sophia, come on. We’ll go together—between the two of us, we know enough about the Ironwood holdings to scrape together the entry fee. There is a wrong choice in this, and that’s letting Grandfather get his hands on it. You haven’t seen what we’ve seen of the future, what’s at stake. I don’t know what Nick is on about, but it can’t be helping him. He’s too obnoxiously good.”