Page 83 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

“No one would accept this.” It hurt more than she expected to say aloud. No matter what happened, there was no escaping that reality.

The weight of it bloomed between them like ink dropped into water. Sylvia was a princess, and Lorelei was a cobbler’s daughter. Some gulfs were too wide to cross. What use would she be as an adviser on matters of governance or—hell—which plates to use when some foreign dignitary came to call on them? The two of them would be the laughingstock of the entire nation. Lorelei couldn’t bear to humiliate her.

Tentatively, Sylvia brushed her fingers against Lorelei’s face. Lorelei felt each of them like a brand against her skin. “They would have to.”

“Don’t delude yourself. People like me don’t win the princess’s heart.”

“They’re just stories, Lorelei.” Sylvia’s voice frayed. “You must stop taking them so seriously.”

“You and I know very well that they’re not.”

Their breath mingled. For the first time, Lorelei studied the bruise blossoming on the side of Sylvia’s neck. Pride and shame snared together within her.

Careless, she thought.Mine.

And yet, she would never truly be hers.

“I meant what I said,” Sylvia said. “I can’t go back to pretending I don’t care for you. Can’t we be happy?”

“Happy,” Lorelei repeated. The word felt foreign on her tongue. If Sylvia could not be convinced with sense, she would have to hurt her. “And what happiness would a life with you grant me? I would be entirely dependent on you for the rest of my days. I would never see my family or hear my language again. I can’t cut off any more pieces of myself. I’m nearly bled dry.”

She did not wait for an answer. She fled.

As she walked back to her room, her mind frantically worked. One way or another, Sylvia von Wolff would be the death of her. If she could not find decisive evidence, Wilhelm might very well punish Sylvia for Ziegler’s murder instead of Lorelei. It was a neat story. Anja von Wolff and Ziegler had schemed to plant a false Ursprung, and then Sylvia had gotten rid of the loose end.

Perhaps Lorelei could never have Sylvia, but she could still save her. That would have to be enough for this lifetime. One way or another, Lorelei would find proof.

All she needed was the right opportunity.

Twenty

THE NEXT DAY, HERopportunity arose.

Outside the window of the mess hall, the evening was clear save for the haze chuffing from thePrinzessin’s smokestacks. It drifted lazily across the sky and veiled the pale face of the waning moon. Its dwindling was like an hourglass: only ten more days until the Vanishing Isle would appear.

Lorelei surveyed the room from her usual corner table, a cup of coffee warming her hands. The ship’s crew had filtered in for dinner and spent most of their allotted fifteen minutes casting resentful gazes her way. She did not blame them. To make it to Ebul on time, they needed to work around the clock, and she’d been the one to give the order. God willing, they wouldn’tmutiny—andthe steam engine wouldn’t overheat and blow them all sky-high before they arrived. They’d survived far too much to suffer such a mundane death.

The double doors of the mess swung open to admit Adelheid andHeike—togetherandlaughing, to Lorelei’s surprise. Evidently, they’d swung back into each other’s good graces. The two of them folded themselves into a table, and the kitchen staff leapt to attend to them. With grim efficiency, they laid out flatware and brought two portions of tonight’s meal: carp pounded thin, breaded, fried, and laid atop a veritable mountain of boiled potatoes.

Heike inspected her plate for a moment, then primly nudged it tothe side. She leaned across the table with her hands folded under her chin, clearly prepared to share a juicy morsel of gossip. Lorelei strained to listen in out of idlecuriosity—butperked up when Heike said, “So, did you hear the big news? Ludwig sat up today.”

Adelheid’s expression did not change, nor did she glance up from her plate. She was consumed with the task of sawing her carp in half with painstaking care. “Yes, Johann mentioned it to me this morning. It’s heartening.”

One could always count on Adelheid for a bland appraisal, Lorelei supposed. It was far more than heartening. If he’d recovered enough to sit up, perhaps he was lucidagain—lucidenough to tell her what had happened on the night he disappeared from camp.

Heike deflated at Adelheid’s non-reaction but pressed onward. “Well? Have you seen him yet?”

Adelheid had moved on from her fish and began cutting her potatoes into tiny cubes. “No. Johann is not allowing visitors until his condition stabilizes.”

Heike scoffed. “I’ve never once seen him show such concern for Ludwig. But if he isn’t lettingyousee him . . .” She frowned, preoccupied. “Has Lud said anything yet?”

After swallowing her mouthful, Adelheid said, “Not that I’m aware of. Are you going to eat that?”

Heike sighed exasperatedly and pushed the plate across the table to her.

Of course Heike wanted to see him. If he’d begun improving, then she would want to silence him before hetalked—whichmeant Lorelei had to get to him first.

Damn Johann for making it more difficult than it needed to be. Fortunately, the man was exceedingly predictable; she could practically set her watch to his schedule. At the top of each hour, he gave Ludwig a dose of pain medication. Lorelei consulted her pocket watch. About now, he’d be on his evening walk, circling the deck as though he meant to outpace something trailing hungrily behind him.