Page 52

A Choice

Rumi

The swaying of the train reminded Rumi of the cradles mothers hung in the trees, rocked by the breezes to ease the babes into a restful slumber.

It had a similar effect on Rumi and her travel companions.

When the strange, beast-like thing slowed and wobbled to a stop, the abrupt change of pace roused them.

Rumi tugged her bonnet on, which had slid off her head in her sleep and lay wrinkled over Callum’s shoulder, and tucked her hair back inside.

He had been pensive and quiet on the train, more so than usual, and she wondered exactly how much she had ruined his life and career.

Guilt washed through her.

He had taken her from her home, it was true.

But more and more, she believed he had been doing what he thought was right.

And when he had realized his error, he had risked everything to get her on a ship bound for her home. And afterward, what then? He would live like a fugitive, always running until people like Sullivan found him, and took him to prison.

“Well, folks, we have a first-class ride straight to the majestic shores of Gallilion.”

Jameson doffed his hat and bowed with a flourish, interrupting her brooding thoughts.

“I, for one, am excited about the prospect of seeing things while not sneaking around.”

He winked at Cal, but Rumi watched as the words seemed to sink under Cal’s skin and his eye twitched.

Jameson noticed too.

“Too soon?”

Cal only shrugged, then slipped his pack and Rumi’s over his shoulder and pushed past Jameson on his way out of the car.

Rumi followed, her skirts swishing around her ankles, her new boots from Callum rigid and unforgiving.

She pushed through the narrow corridor between the rooms, and a familiar scent wafted past her nose.

A visceral shudder wracked her frame and she froze, her eyes scanning the space wildly.

No one was there.

No one except Cal, waiting for her at the exit door. He was chatting with Jameson and had not noticed her disquiet. She decided that she must have been mistaken. Or maybe that cologne was common in Yetoben. She reminded herself to breathe, filling her lungs before straightening and joining Callum on the platform that met them outside the rail car.

The sun had risen over the desert hills, greeting Rumi warmly, like a hug from Kephril himself.

It was difficult to believe this was the same sun that watched over her days back home.

It seemed harsher and larger out here, with nothing to shade her from Kephril’s golden spears.

The trio strolled out of the station along with the mass of people disembarking the rail.

People chattered happily, sharing snippets of their lives among each other that Rumi sampled as they passed, like little sweets.

From the station, it was only a short walk to the dock that housed several large boats, all lined up in a row.

But her eyes were drawn to a massive silhouette at the end of the line.

The ship was enormous: an armored citadel of steel rising from the dark seawater—a shining, iron-clad beast, its long oars proudly slashing into the water like spines.

The air smelled heavily of salt, and the ocean breeze tugged at her bonnet ribbons, urging her to take it off and play, carefree, like she had been once so long ago.

When she used to run along Behiba’s shores and let the wind run fingers through her hair while she waded into the waters.

“Miss Rumi?”

Cal’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked down to see his hand held out to her.

He was chewing on his lip, his shoulder tight, but relaxed both as her fingers slid into his.

Jameson had strolled on ahead and was already speaking to the uniformed man at the front of the ship.

The man examined the papers Jameson presented and then waved him on.

Jameson turned back and waved at Cal and Rumi before disappearing into the crowd of people boarding the ship.

“A nice day for a voyage, eh?”

the man said as Rumi and Callum approached.

Cal offered their own papers and the man’s eyes slid over the pair of them before briefly scanning the document.

“I hope the weather stays nice,”

Cal said conversationally.

“Nothin’ but blue skies ahead now ‘cordin’ to the rainman.

Storm’s mostly passed.

You an’ your wife celebratin’ anything?”

the man asked, handing the papers back to Cal, who tucked them neatly into his pocket.

“I suppose we are,”

Cal said, looking at Rumi, his face aglow with fondness.

“Where it all began.”

His dimple appeared first, and then his smile grew as her own blossomed to match his.

Where it all began, indeed.

“Well, I hope ya have a good time! Genteel Rooms are on the first floor below deck.

If ya need anythin’, ask anyone in uniform and they’ll help ya out.”

Cal’s hand on her elbow guided her onto the ship and into the cabins below deck.

It was strange to see the differences between the ship she had arrived on and this one.

That one was for cargo and trade, and this one seemed for pleasure and experience.

They passed people dressed in fine clothing, chatting and laughing, pointing at the navy waters shimmering in the sun.

“One of these rooms is ours,”

Cal said, gesturing to the long row of doors lining the hall.

His hand tightened around hers as they continued down the corridor, looking for the number on their ticket.

“This is all wood,”

she stated, tapping her booted toe on the floor.

“Yeah, we have wood, just not a lot.

The small forests we have are all sanctioned by the governor and used almost exclusively for ships.”

His smile grew broader.

“Lefiin does many things, but floating ain’t one of them.”

She mused over the new information, her fingers trailing along the wall as they looked for their suite.

“What if we stayed here?”

Rumi asked softly, her heart stuttering in her chest and climbing into her throat.

She had not intended to ask that one out loud.

He stopped and turned toward her slowly.

“In this room?”

The flash in his eyes told her he knew that was not what she meant, but she could tell he was giving her an out.

Rumi refused to take it.

“There is still time.

We could leave the ship and stay here, in your country.

Have a little farmhouse.

I could help things grow so we would not go hungry.”

She did not realize she was pleading until his eyes softened.

He gathered her hands in his and held them at his chest.

“It’s okay to be nervous, but I’m certain your people will welcome you back with open arms.”

That was not what she meant.

It was not what she wanted.

But she held her tongue and only nodded.

“So, when were ya’ll going to tell me what was going on?”Jameson asked, coming up behind them and sliding his arms over both their shoulders.

“Tell you what?”

Cal asked, looking at him quizzically.

“Weston knew.

Now I know, and I’m just wondering when you planned to tell me that we had a princess on our hands.”

Cal’s face darkened, and Rumi, not even bothering to think on how Weston knew about her, pointed to the door that matched their ticket numbers.

Cal ushered them all inside.

“Keep it down, Jameson.”

Cal glared at Jameson who threw his hands up in surrender.

Rumi had been on the receiving end of that glare many times and it was amusing to see it used against someone else.

“Why did you keep it a secret? From me, especially.”

“It wasn’t relevant,”

Cal grumbled.

“Not relevant? I would think it was pretty fucking relevant!”

Cal began to object, when Rumi stepped in, pushing between them.

“I never told him,”

she said softly.

Jameson deflated and plopped onto the bed, raking his hand through his hair.

“This is a damn mess.”

“Well, I’m fixing it,”

Cal said with a huff, settling into the chair opposite the bed.

The trio stared at each other in silence for several moments before Jameson stood and announced, “I’m going to the ballroom where I intend to drink my worries away.

Hopefully, I’ll see you there.”

He smiled at Rumi, his hazel eyes twinkling.

“I’ll save you a seat and a drink, princess.”

It was surprising to her how quickly she had come to trust him, despite their history.

Maybe someday they would have a discussion about their time together.

Maybe.

She was not quite ready to revisit that.

Then he was gone, the door closing in his absence.

Rumi stared at the door for two breaths before looking back at Callum.

His hair had grown so much longer in the time since they’d met and now flopped forward into his eyes.

The hair on his chin had grown longer too and gave him a more exotic appearance.

She stepped closer to him and reached out to brush her fingers over the stubble, the prickles on her fingers making them tingle.

He met her eyes, and his were so weary and filled with trouble.

“We can fix this,”

she said gently.

“How long is the voyage?”

Cal scratched at his chin where her fingers had just been and peered up at her from where he slouched in the chair.

“I’m not sure, to be honest.

Our last trip took more than a week on a trade ship, but this is a pleasure voyage, headed to Corsin.

The noble houses recently fixed up this ship with some oritium and the newfangled luminars and whatever other damned inventions they’ve come up with.

Probably get there in half the time, too.

Rich folk ain’t too patient,”

he added with a smirk.

“But we still have some time?”

she asked, not bothering to add the last bit of her thoughts: time together with him.

“Just a bit, now.

Don’t worry, you’ll be back home soon enough.

I’m sure your little fiance will be quite relieved to see you.”

Rumi chewed her lip, considering her next words carefully.

“What if…What I mean to say is, I…”

She cleared her throat, scanning the wall for the answers.

“You don’t need to placate me, Miss Rumi.

Our time together has been…Well I’ve grown quite fond of you, but I know you’ve got your duties.

Don’t worry about me.”

“That is not what I mean,”

she argued, bending to be closer.

“You don’t need to shy away from talking about it for my sake.”

“Callum. Stop.”

She captured his face between her hands to silence him.

“I do not want to marry Zinhar.”

He froze beneath her, his green eyes wide and vibrant as they darted between hers, searching for the lie.

“You don’t?”

His voice was a breathless rasp that made a soft smile grow on her face and she shook her head.

“No.

I do not.

I want you.

My aba and I can work something out.

The people will not care once they see how good you are.

Let me fix it, please.”

She brought her lip between her teeth. “Please,”

she said again, leaning in closer.

“I choose you.”

Callum’s mouth opened and closed as he sought the words, but Rumi leaned in and closed her mouth over his, cutting off any possible objection.

Like that first glass of water she had received after her escape, his kiss quenched a thirst so indomitable she could scarcely breathe once it had begun.

He claimed her mouth with palpable hunger.

The world tilted on its axis as he sampled her lips, like savoring a delicacy.

Rumi was ready and willing to throw away all she had ever known to be true, if only to stay with him.

To have his arms wrapped around her.