Page 108 of When the Sky Breaks

“Will you be here again tomorrow?” Prudence asked as she herded the children ahead of her to get back downstairs for dinner.

I nodded.

“And you’re sure we’re not a bother?” Prudence asked. “It’s only just. It’s nice to have some company.”

“Not a bother at all,” I assured her, gathering one of the cats up into my lap. “We’ll all see you again at two o’clock.”

“Say thank you to Mr. and Mrs. MacCairn,” Prudence instructed as she led the kids away.

I leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose to keep myself from crying. “Neal, what if we die?”

“Why are you asking?” Neal pressed before replying.

“We just spent two hours surrounded by malnourished orphans traveling thirteen days in steerage accompanied by no actual adults. Why do you think I’m asking?” I said.

“If we both die then my dad will take the baby,” Neal said, tucking me against his chest. “Or Ansel. Or Nokona. Someone will always look after them.”

He pressed a hand to my belly.

“The world is profoundly unfair,” he said. “Profoundly. And those kids got dealt a bad hand. And yes, in some ways so did our baby. But one thing they will never have to experience is being alone like that. Think about how many people from the Outer Court you’ve already met who would happily take this one in if something went wrong?”

“I just really don’t want anything else to go wrong,” I said softly, curling tighter into his embrace.

“I’m working on it,” Neal assured me. “Always working on it.”

It went on like that for days.

I woke every night like clockwork in a panic because suddenly the background hum of ocean life had gone dead silent.

Ansel started taking walks in the dark. But turned up nothing.

Guinevere glared.

Prudence and the orphans came and played with the cats.

Until one day Prudence and the kids showed up late. The younger children were boisterous and excitable as usual, but a few of the older ones looked upset. Prudence looked even more sallow and harried than usual.

“You alright?” I asked as Prudence sat beside me on the deck chair. She seemed distracted. She was counting the kids over and over, reciting their names.

“One of them’s missing,” Prudence said quietly. “I’s checked eight times. Simon. He’s gone.”

“When did you see him last?” I asked.

“He went to bed last night,” Prudence said. “Morning? He was gone. Just gone. Thought he was in the toilet. But no. Can’t find him anywhere.”

“Did you ask the steward? Other passengers?” My stomach dropped. Sure, the poor child might be lost somewhere on the ship. Or he could’ve fallen overboard and disappeared beneath the waves. Or worse, been killed or abducted somehow.

“Steward don’t care,” Prudence said. “One of the other ladies said she saw him get up and out of bed after two last night. But she was asleep before he got back.”

Neal stiffened.

“Keep asking around,” I said gently. “I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

I almost suggested having the cats search, then bit my tongue. No magic. Not here. Not right now. Not like this.

Prudence and the children departed early, and instantly Neal was talking.

“Sorcha, you’re always up at three,” he said immediately. “Always. The fish thing.”