Michael returns to spinning the wheels, ignoring us once more. I move across the room, sitting beside Nolan, taking hishand. He scratches the back of his head with his hook, the motion awkward but endearing.
“He was always better with the children,” Nolan says. “When we were at the orphanage, Peter had this energy, especially with the younger boys. He knew how to comfort them when the warden abused them. He gave them hope, even though we all knew our futures were bleak. We’d be cast out on the streets, no jobs, no skills.
“I tried to be kind to them,” Nolan continues, “but I think there was something about me that scared them.” He pauses, looking away. “I always wondered if they knew.”
“Knew what?” I whisper.
Nolan exhales, and his voice drops. “The reason my mother was so easily convinced to send me to the orphanage. I didn’t know how to play with my siblings. I tried, but I’d get angry too quickly. Once, my younger sister won at a board game. I swept all the pieces off the board and pelted her with them.” He looks down in shame.
“That’s not all that abnormal, for a child,” I say.
Nolan’s face is stricken with guilt. “When she cried, I covered her mouth so our mother wouldn’t hear.”
His hand, the one that once held the dowel, trembles as he recalls the memory. I reach out, squeezing his hand gently. I don’t say anything for a moment, letting his words settle.
“I don’t think they could sense that in you,” I say softly.
Nolan raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, they didn’t sense it in Peter, did they?” I reply, my voice firm.
Nolan’s brow furrows. “I’m not sure either of us were capable of the violence he became. It’s an unanswered question, isn’t it?”
“When did the kind boy turn cruel?” I ask, my words hanging in the stale air.
Nolan nods, lost in thought.
“Nolan,” I whisper.
“Yes?”
“I messed up.”
Nolan glances at me, concern written in the way he presses his lips together.
“I thought the library only manipulated time within its walls. But I was wrong. Its power extends to all who dock on the island.”
“Ah,” says Nolan. “Well, that explains the surprising change in climate. Have you ascertained how long we were there?”
I take the crumpled itinerary I ripped from the notice board and hand it to my husband. He unfolds it carefully and whistles. “Five months. That’s…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, and I don’t finish it for him. Instead, we sit together in the quiet for a while, until Michael crawls into the bed and falls asleep. Slowly, we follow, the shadows of the past lingering just out of reach.
CHAPTER 17
Charlie cocks her pistol—that’s what she calls the contraption she made, a miniature cannon that shoots tiny cannonballs from its small barrel. Her finger curls around the trigger, and when she pulls it, aiming toward the blue sky from the deck of theIaso, there’s a loud blast, powder smoking as the shot rings in the air. A bird squawks, then falls, landing at my feet.
I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for the little bird, but I have to admit, the invention itself is pretty impressive.
“This device is remarkable,” I tell her, unable to conceal the trepidation in my voice.
Charlie blows the powder smoke away from the barrel, then tucks the weapon into a leather holster at her side. “It’s taken years,” she says, “but I’m finally pleased with the product.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Product?”
She works her lip thoughtfully, staring at the lone cloud drifting lazily in the sky before glancing down at the waves beneath the deck. We’re on our way to the land where Mount Serba dwells, the place where the Youngest Sister is rumored to reside, according to the book I swiped from the library. The journey is supposed to take five weeks, but so far, the sea andweather have been kind to us. I think we’re all hoping it’s a good omen, though I can’t say the Fates are on our side.
Charlie hesitates. “I can’t decide,” she says finally. “The captain thinks I could make a fortune off of it, but I don’t know what I’d do with a fortune.”
