Page 33 of Carousel

It’s just making it worse.

My voice, when I speak again, sounds choked.

“We all thought you were dead. You know that, don’t you?”

He flinches. Like I’ve just slapped him. “What? Why would you think that?”

Is he being serious?

“Why wouldn’t we?” I counter, hotly. “You never wrote. You never visited⁠—”

“Never visited! I wasn’t abroad for leisure, Ara. I’ve been at war! You…” He’s breathless. “You don’t know what it’s like up here. The war is everything. Every living moment is about keeping the people around you alive⁠—”

My rage feels raw. Like a bloody wound dressing has been ripped off.

“You still could have picked up a pen! Letters came down sometimes. Sisters, you could have chucked a message in a bottle and even that might have reached us somehow⁠—”

He looks livid.

“I volunteered to pilot as soon as I heard your name on my ship’s radio today. I even tried to visit my mother, but she wasn’t there. This was my first time in three years I could come down, and I did. Do you not realise that? I heard you were being taken prisoner for something. I knew you’d be shit scared – and devastated to have to leave Eric. I thought you’d appreciate a friendly face, in your situation...” An exasperated noise leaves his mouth. “I thought you’d be happy to see me!”

He stares at me accusingly. Like I’m the bad person here.

Like he’s realised that actually, he hates me.

I’m aware we’ve somehow gravitated closer again. I can see his chest moving with his breaths. His mouth is twisted down in the corners. I keep glancing at it. I don’t know why.

The sound of Dezeeves’ voice breaks us apart.

“Cosmer. Would you mind telling your friend to stop doing acrobatics? It’s very distracting.”

I follow Dezeeves’ line of sight to where a long, sleek ship is swaying side to side and up and down.

“Oh,” Cosmer says, with an awkward smile. “She thinks I’m piloting. She’s challenging me.”

“And do you and Rissa often waste osimidite performing dangerous manoeuvres to ‘challenge’ each other?”

“Uh…”

Dezeeves lifts off the headband and hands it to Cosmer, who thrusts it on.

“Riss. Firstly – that was mediocre at best. I give it a five. Secondly, Dezeeves is actually piloting Bumble right now.” There’s a muffled reply from a female voice. “Oh, I’m sure he’s hating every minute. But there was an issue.” Another reply. “No, that does not mean you win by default. No… No. Absolutely not.” Cosmer catches sight of Dezeeves’ face. “As much as I’d love to continue this, I need to go.”

The sleek ship glides out of view, at the same time that Dezeeves levels us with an open hatch. We enter it slowly. He turns several dials and pulls a lever, and the machine clanks and lowers itself. We land with a judder in the centre of the windowless silver space, and the silence is loud when the whirring stops.

Dezeeves takes off the headband with a long sigh as the hatch clunks shuts behind us.

Cosmer grins at him. “You’ve still got it, Dezeeves.”

“As do you, it seems,” Dezeeves mumbles – although I get the feeling he didn’t intend for us to hear that.

I look down at Drake.

I sort of wish he’d been awake for this. Maybe then I wouldn’t have had to have that conversation with Cosmer. It’s left a prickling feeling under my skin.

“Here,” Dezeeves says to me, holding out his hand. “Wave these under his nose.” He uncurls his gloved fist to reveal an assortment of colourful rock salts. Even from here, I can tell they have a potent smell.

I scoop them up, and do as he says.