“How any of you can sleep in these circumstances I do not know,” Mrs. Smith said primly. “There is far too much at stake for relaxation.”
Eloise’s attention flicked away from Francine, and she didn’t let her relief show.
Nor did she let them see how she tensed up again, when the conversation turned to how small a crew would be needed for the return journey.
The closer they got to their destination, the less her fellow guests bothered to hide their true natures. Mrs. Smith knew about the Soul-Eater, or Devourer of Souls, or whatever else they wanted to call it. She made that clear when she started talking about how wonderful it would be to strip certain elements out of her family tree.
The French couple were here for the dragons. Francine was almost sure of that. Whenever the dragons were mentioned, their gazes darkened, as though they had something personally against them. As for the others…
She didn’t know.
Then there was Angelo Clay. Eloise had kept him very well hidden during the start of their trip, but now he turned up so frequently during her and Francine’slittle chatsthat it had to be on purpose. Eloise was baiting her about something. But what? Clay was a mealy-mouthed scientist. Half the words that came out of his mouth didn’t make any sense to Francine, though Elly always nodded along knowledgeably for a few minutes before dismissing him with a flick of her fingers and turning a triumphant smile on Francine.
She was hiding something, and whatever it was, it couldn’t be good news.
Two days, she told herself, poison burning her stomach. Two days, and they would be able to save Julian’s family and stop all this.
21
Julian
The smaller the VIP list became, the more time the guests spent in one another’s presence. As though they were simultaneously seeking safety in numbers and keeping an eye on the next potential threat.
Or victim.
Lunch was served in a lounge that was more window than wall. Outside, clouds crowded around the ship. Occasionally, a huge white mass appeared through the surging gray. Antarctic cliffs.
Home.
The table was set for three fewer than last night’s dinner had been.
Julian’s eyes flicked to Francine to check her reaction. She acted as though she didn’t notice. Was that the correct tactic? She’d put so much energy into meeting Eloise joke for bloodthirsty joke that day. Surely the sneering lioness who thought everyone else was below her would have something to say about the peasants picking one another off.
He held her chair for her as she sat. As she dropped her napkin in her lap, her fingers trembled.
She had noticed. And the only reason she wasn’t reacting was because she was terrified.
Her mind was gleaming and opaque; a pearl that shone with a steady, calm glow. *Francine—*
*I need you to leave me here again. I have to show that I trust Eloise. Her people will protect me. Please,*she said, the word cracking under unspoken pressure.
Leaving her here was the last thing he wanted. *Call for me if there’s anything you need.*
She laughed—at something Nikolaidis had said, or his words, he didn’t know. It rang with the faintest tinge of fear.
Around the table, attention focused onto her.
Her mind clung to his. *What will you do if I do call? Your dragon isn’t healed enough yet to get us off here.*
It wasn’t. Not yet. And there was no way of finding out whether it would be before they left—whether that was in their own time, or to escape this ship of death before someone tried to remove them from the competition.
He would try to shift. Either his dragon would appear and they would escape together, or they wouldn’t. And they would die. Together.
He couldn’t let that happen. Which was why Francine needed to convince Eloise and her cronies that she was one of them, whether it was true or not and regardless of which option frightened him more. When this was all over, she would need allies to take her home.
*Call for me,*he repeated, and left.
He had another appointment to make.
