“This cove is pretty special,” Persis said. “All Scintillans is.”
“Yes.” Seawater dripped onto his face. Was he swallowing stars? Or—coral spawn. He shouldn’t think this a miracle. He shouldn’t find it so impressive. A simple chemical reaction in the juvenile body of the . . . they sparkled and swirled in the water before him.
All right. Stars.
“And you’re right, I’m the heir.”
He blinked. Had he missed some part of the conversation while underwater? Then he remembered. They were talking about what it was he’d say he loved about Persis.
But that was before the stars. Before the kiss. He doubted he’d have to say anything now. Those kids on the steps would be convinced. Everyone would.
“Which is why,” she went on, still looking up, while the real stars flickered to life in the slice of sky they could see beyond the cliffs, “it’s important who I’m with. It’s important that he be someone I can trust, because if I marry—he’ll get it all.”
Sixteen
FOR THE FIRST TIME since donning the mask that had defined her life for months, Persis found she didn’t resent the shallow, playful role she’d taken on. Here in the cove, with stars winking above the cliff top and weaving in and out of the knots in her hair, she could be the part of herself that wasn’t at odds with her faked persona. The part that entertained her mother with village chatter, who sailed her yacht in high winds and played with Slipstream on the shore. Justen had spent a day and a night fighting against the evils perpetuated by his fellow countrymen. He needed to relax. He needed laughter and splashing and . . . yes, even kisses. Who knew that better than a girl who’d spent months risking everything for the same purpose?
The kiss they’d shared had affected her more than she’d expected. It wasn’t her first kiss, or even the first time she’d kissed a boy for less than honest reasons. However, it might have been the first time she’d ever kissed someone who didn’t want her to.
Now that she knew how awful being on the receiving end of fake kisses felt, she never wanted to indulge in the practice again—though with her new duty as the object of Justen’s false affections, she doubted that was going to happen. She’d figured he’d enjoy it, what with him being a teenage boy and her being a pretty girl in a bathing suit. She’d thought he was enjoying it, and then, just as things had started getting interesting, he’d pushed her away.
And it had been here, in the star cove, where the greatest love story she knew had begun.
Two decades earlier, the young, idealistic heir to Scintillans had met his secret lover in this cove and told her that he didn’t care what it meant for his future in Albian society, that he didn’t even care if he was disowned by his parents or shunned by his king—he wouldn’t go another day without her by his side. Torin was rebellious and resolute, and Heloise was clever and charming, and theirs was a love story that won the hearts of the entire island.
Persis was the happily ever after of that story. It was her proud legacy and the cloud that hung over her head. She wondered how much longer her mother would remember that night, the one that Persis had been told about like a bedtime story all her life. The night her parents swam in the star cove and promised to defy every rule they knew. What if Persis fell in love like that, what if she married and had children and ended up as sick as her mother? She couldn’t do that to another family. Persis closed her eyes until she could breathe again. Love and duty, as the Blake family motto went.
For months now, the latter trumped the former.
“Are you saying that your future husband will be in charge here?” Justen asked, appalled.
“Yes, of course.”
“Of course?” Justen scoffed. “That’s ridiculous. You were born here. This land is yours.”
Well, if that wasn’t the least revolutionary thing she’d ever heard him say. “Well, lucky for me, I have no interest in such boring pursuits as land ownership. I’d be happy to let my future husband handle that sort of thing.”
“I find that hard to believe, Persis. I bet you won’t even let your future husband pick out his own clothes.”
She smiled in spite of herself. He had her there. “The laws of Albion state that a woman and her holdings are the property of her father, her husband, her brother, or her son. Women can’t inherit unless there’s no man in the picture at all.”
“Then if I were you,” Justen said, “I’d never marry at all. Stay single and control your land as you see fit.”
She laughed and splashed at him. “You wouldn’t condemn the villagers to a life of foolishness and fashion, would you?”
“No, but I doubt you would either. You love the people here too much. You can’t fool me, Lady Blake.”
That stopped her in her tracks. She had better fool him. She might be forgetting herself here in the star cove, but her mission was still all-important. Then again, maybe it was time to stop lying to Justen. If he was working to help the refugees, he was halfway in the League already.
And what would he do if she did tell him? Would he even believe her? Would he fight by her side? Would he kiss her for real?
She cleared her throat. “It’s how things work in Albion, though. Men make the decisions. This is why Isla is only the princess regent, and her infant brother is the king. If Albie had never been born, they’d be pressuring Isla to marry as soon as possible, so the country could get a proper king.”
Justen snorted. “Some hereditary rule. You can take control of the country just by marrying the princess?”
“I suppose you prefer taking control of the country through a military coup, Citizen Helo?” she snapped.
Justen squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. “No. That’s not what I meant.”
And Persis had not meant to turn to such a serious topic. That wasn’t how the flaky, shallow girl she pretended to be would act if she had brought a handsome young man down to the star cove. Even one she was just pretending to like for Isla’s sake. She mustn’t forget herself, no matter how many stars sparked against her skin, no matter what Justen had done today for the people the Poppy had rescued. This was a mission—same as any other. She was used to the role of Persis Flake. She needed to remember that the role of starry-eyed admirer of Justen Helo was just as false.
“I had wanted the queen removed from office,” he said quietly, returning to the ledge. “She was cruel to her subjects and unfair to the regs. Personally, I’d already argued with her more than a year ago about access to my grandmother’s research. She . . . patronized me. Acted like I was a child playing scientist instead of a student doing legitimate research. It was right of the people of Galatea to seek to remove her from power. I will not deny that. But—everything else. It wasn’t motivated by justice. It was something much darker.”
“Revenge,” Persis whispered, though she wasn’t sure if he heard. Revenge for all the cruelty and the dismissals and the wrongs done to an entire people.
“I wasn’t there when the queen was sentenced,” Justen said. “But I was there the night she died. I saw . . . what happened afterward.”
He was weighing his words carefully, Persis noted. And with good reason, for “what happened afterward” was that a mob had formed, and they’d taken their desire for revenge into their own hands, stealing the queen’s body and tossing it into her private cove to be devoured by her own mini-orcas.
He shook his head. “It got out of hand. All of it. No one deserves the punishment of Reduction. No one deserves to have their body desecrated as the queen’s was. This is not the world we’ve fought to create here on New Pacifica. This isn’t the life Persistence Helo wanted the regs to have.”