I shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re going to get you to a better healer as soon as we get to Ingram’s port. But then it will probably be on to Gaskin; Castillion thinks he’s going to make a trade with Arceneaux.”
“Bleeding stars,” she said. “How many more days until the eclipse?”
“Seven,” I said.
“How are you planning on getting back to Greythorne by then?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said.
She said, “I don’t know if I’m going to make it that long, Aurelia.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” I teased as lightheartedly as I could. “Or I s
wear, I’ll simply do away with you myself and tell everyone it was an accident.”
She grinned and patted my hand. “That’s my girl.”
24
The Nothing Dream came to me that night.
It was still terrifying, even now that I knew it was not simply a dream but a glimpse into the Gray. But this time, the endless eventide did not change. It did not show me past or future. It remained a vast expanse of nothing.
When I woke, it was to a heavy fog curling against the cabin windows, obscuring the sky to the point at which I could not tell if it was dawn or dusk or sometime in between.
I dressed quickly, aware that the shift dress I’d borrowed from Rosetta’s trunk was likely to stand out among the elaborate costumes of the rest of the ship’s guests, but too stubborn to consider any of the prettier dresses Castillion had had delivered to the room. Then I went for the door, grateful when the knob turned without hindrance; he had kept his promise. While we were on the water, he would let me roam the decks as I pleased. I intended to explore the accuracy of my schematics, but curiosity drove me to the gallery first. Castillion and his ship intrigued me more than I cared to admit, and there was only so much I could glean from scouring his immaculately clean quarters. I wanted to talk to his overdressed guests.
The fog was icy and, on the decks, so thick that I had to walk with my hand against the wall or risk knocking into things as I passed. It took me three times longer to find the gallery than it should have, and I was chilled to the bone by the time I did.
The hall was full when I got to it, but there was no music playing, no cheery laughter. The guests played their games in eerie silence.
I was standing to the side, trying to make myself invisible, when a woman at the table nearest to me waved me over. She was with another man and woman, and they were all dressed in thick furs and brilliant fabrics. When they spoke, it was in hushed tones and furtive whispers.
The first woman, wearing a gown the color of citrines, said, “I was telling Loretta here that you are Aurelia, witch princess of Renalt. Killer of King Domhnall and destroyer of Achlev. She doesn’t believe me.”
“She’s right,” I told Loretta reluctantly. “At least about my name and title. The rest is . . . up for debate.”
“An interesting character, at least,” the man said, tipping his hat. “Castillion does love a good character. Do you play cards? We’d love to have you join in a game.”
“What game?” I asked. I was really proficient only at Betwixt and Between.
“Serpents,” the man replied. “Do you play?”
I shook my head. “But I wouldn’t mind watching to learn how.”
“I didn’t know how when I first came aboard,” Loretta said. “It’s pretty easy to learn.”
“When did you come aboard?” I asked as the man began to deal.
“About two months ago,” she replied, picking up her hand. “After Aylward surrendered. I’m his cousin. Loretta Aylward.”
“I’m Gretchen Percival,” the first woman said. “Sister to Baron Lander Percival.”
“Werner Humboldt,” the man said, giving a slight nod of his head. “Fergus Ingram is my brother-in-law.”
I nodded slowly. “So, you’re all . . . ?”
“Hostages,” Werner finished. “A way to ensure each baron’s cooperation.” He shrugged. “Not that Fergus would particularly care if I lived or died, but his wife—my sister—might.”