Sylvain ran a hand through the dark tumble of his hair. “Up on the deck, you were about to correct that vampire. But that seems an unwise thing to do, since we are the only two Shadowhunters onboard this ship, and it seems no one else knows we are here.”
“I suppose the vampires do outnumber us quite a bit,” Matthew conceded.
“Indeed. We are alone with two dozen of them, surrounded by miles and miles of ocean. I don’t suppose I have to remind you what happened to the crew of the Demeter.”
“Yes, but this is a much larger boat. Also,Draculais fiction.”
“But there are many more vampires aboard this boat.”
“Point taken. I am well known among my friends in London for haring off without thinking much of the consequences.” Matthew sighed. “We cannot justignorewhat’s happened, though. If these vampires killed that man Morrow, then they’ve broken the Accords. And that becomes our business.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Sylvain rubbed at his eyes. “I heard the captain talking to the”—he frowned—“maître d’équipage—”
“The second mate,” Matthew said. “About what?”
“How to deal with the body of Monsieur Morrow. There is a chapel aboard the ship; they intend to bring the body there.”
“And you think we should go take a look at it,” said Matthew. “Determine if he was killed by vampires. And if he was…”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Sylvain saidgrimly. His eyes widened, and he reached out to catch at Matthew’s jacket as Matthew headed toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“To the chapel. Surely they’ll have brought the body there by now.”
“You really do hare off, don’t you?” Sylvain said. “They may have brought it there, they may not, but either way we should wait until morning. When the vampires are asleep. In fact, I suggest we both remain inside this room until dawn breaks. It would be unwise for either of us to wander the ship alone.”
Matthew suspected Sylvain meantespecially you, but he couldn’t be sure. He also wasn’t sure he wanted to spend the rest of the dark hours of night with a pessimistic Frenchman, even one with dark eyes that glowed when he smiled. (Matthew had always liked dark eyes.)
But Sylvain made undeniably good points. It probablywasn’ta good idea to wander around a vampire-ridden ship alone at night, not when the vampires might well be jumpy and horrified at the sight of a Shadowhunter. Who knew if any of them had, like Sylvain, glimpsed Matthew’s rune? Or guessed even earlier what he and Sylvain really were?
Matthew came out of his reverie to see that Sylvainhad kicked off his boots and was sitting, a bit stiffly, on the bed, his back straight against the headboard. The bedspread was neat, unwrinkled, as if Sylvain had not yet gone to sleep when the alarm sounded.
Hmm, Matthew thought. There was a single chair in the room, bolted to the floor, but it looked uncomfortable. After a moment, he toed off his own shoes and joined Sylvain on the bed, though he sat carefully at the edge of the mattress. Sylvain seemed to be doing the same thing, so there was quite a bit of space between them.
Sylvain said nothing. Matthew, to his own surprise, also said nothing. He had, in his life, made small talk with angry mermaids, resentful werewolves, difficult Shadowhunters, and heartbroken vampires. Conversation had always flowed easily. But then again, perhaps that had been the alcohol that had always been flowing just as easily. Now, stone sober, he could think of absolutely nothing to say to the boy beside him, and the silence stretched out like awkward taffy.
Just as Matthew was thinking that he might as well take his chances with the vampires, Sylvain said, in a studiously incurious voice, “So. Are you on your travel year?”
“Not quite,” Matthew said slowly. He inched into a slightly more secure position on the bed. “I’m not visiting Institutes, or anything like that. Just—traveling to travel.”He snuck a sideways glance at Sylvain, who was leaning forward. Matthew could only see a bit of cheekbone and the fall of his black hair. “What about you?”
“I am not on my travel year either.” Sylvain was looking down at his hands. “Earlier, when I said people who travel are either looking for something or running away? I am running away.”
“FromParis?” Matthew said. Sylvain shot him a sharp look. “Sorry,” Matthew amended sheepishly. “I imagine anything can become tiresome. Even Paris.”
“We always knew when you visited Paris, you know,” Sylvain said. He’d lain back against his pillows and was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something fascinating to be found up there. “My father would tell us the son of the Consul was in the city. But you never visited the Institute.”
“I suppose I go to Paris to escape,” Matthew said. “To forget I am a Shadowhunter.”
“Well, I left Paris to escape. To forget I am a Shadowhunter.” Sylvain was still staring at the ceiling; in the dim light, his profile was sharp as cut glass.
“Why?” Matthew asked.
“My father has always had my life planned for me. Laid out in an orderly manner like one of your Englishgardens. I am to take over the Institute when he retires. I am to marry Elise Bellefleur, who has been my friend since childhood. I will have children and name my son after my father.”
Matthew almost winced at the bitterness in Sylvain’s tone. He said, “Is it the marriage or the taking over the Institute that you object to?”
“All of it, I suppose.”
“Surely you can tell your father that marrying you to Elise wouldn’t be a good match—”
