Marrying up was the only way that any number of women in history had escaped their pasts and whatever stations they’d been born into. They couldn’t work to improve their lives the way men did, and live by their own means. It was grossly unfair to them—and it was especially unfair that Sophia, someone who should have had a future, access to opportunities, was trapped inside of this cage the family had thrown over her.
Etta finally released her last trace of anger and pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to process this. Sophia pushed herself up onto her feet and began to tug at the strings of her stays and gown.
After a moment, Etta stood to help her. “If you are related to the old man, and there are so few travelers left, why aren’t you Cyrus’s heir?”
Sophia rolled her eyes. “Because an infant born a few months ago, who’s so distantly related to Grandfather as to only share a drop of blood—somehow that child is more eligible, simply by virtue of having been born a boy. Little Marcus Ironwood is the heir. For now. I’ll have to wait until he’s old enough for everyone to discern whether he’s a traveler or a guardian. If it’s the latter—well, perhaps Grandfather will be desperate enough to reconsider the rule.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Etta said. The idea of Sophia leading the family and subjecting them to her will was mildly terrifying, but she could hardly be worse than the old man. She was ambitious, and Etta still wasn’t convinced she had been an innocent party to Alice’s death, but Sophia shouldn’t have been denied simply for being a girl. No woman should.
“That’s—” Sophia cut herself off, surprised. “You agree? It’s simply the way it’s done, and has been done forever, but the older cousins renounced their claim by marrying outside of Grandfather’s wishes. I’m the only one of my generation tied closely enough to his bloodline to have a true claim, and I’m certainly the only traveler left alive who’s been under his direct tutelage.”
“Maybe it is really time for a change, then,” Etta said. “Can you make your case?”
“Women are not allowed to attend the family meetings, so how can I? How can I get Grandfather to see what’s been in front of him all along?” Sophia shook her head. “How do you fight against a mountain? How do you move it when you don’t even have a shovel?”
“Maybe you don’t have to move it,” Etta said, folding the gown over the lid of the trunk. “Maybe you have to climb it.”
Sophia studied her, her face still flushed from the heat of her words. “I don’t know if there ever will be a better choice than Julian. He was…he was perfect.”
“No one is perfect. Not even you.”
The other girl snorted, climbing into bed and shifting so she faced the far wall—making room for Etta. After a moment’s hesitation, Etta climbed in after her, scooting as far as she could to the edge without falling off. The mattress felt strange, like it’d been stuffed with straw—it smelled that way, too. The frame creaked, but there was another sound beneath it—the ropes supporting the mattress. They scraped against each other, and sounded like the lines had on the ship when the men were adjusting the sails. Her mind shifted back to Nicholas, wondering where he’d sleep.
Sophia leaned over her, blowing out the candle on the bedside table. The smoke trailed out into the darkness like a silver chain.
“Was Augustus Nicholas’s father?” Etta whispered into the night.
“Yes.” The whole bed shifted as Sophia turned over. The silence stretched out for a few beats, punctuated only by her sigh. “I don’t know much about this, truthfully—most of it is gossip. But Augustus was madly, madly in love with Rose. Your mother. Everyone knew it, just like they all knew that he wasn’t the same after she disappeared. He was…troubled.”
What had the letter said? But I also hope that this helps you put it all to rest, and eases your bedeviled mind.
“He spent years searching for her, even after Grandfather tried to force him to stop. Eventually he had to do his duty and provide an heir, so he married, and Julian came into the picture. But Augustus was…not pleasant. Never faithful. Never loving. An absolute beast. He took what he wanted from whomever he wanted. Do you understand?”
Etta understood.
Nicholas’s mother had been the family’s slave, and Augustus had assaulted her, abused her, and in the end had never freed her. Etta’s fury sprouted a new head, this one with knives for teeth. She thought, just then, that she could tear down the walls of the inn with only her bare hands.
“Julian wasn’t like that,” Sophia continued softly. “Not at all. He was kind.”
“Did you love him?” Etta asked. There was a careful reservation in Sophia’s voice when she spoke about him; either the grief was still too new and intense to touch, or there hadn’t been a great, smoldering kind of love between them.
“I was…content,” Sophia said. “He deserved to live, not the bastard. It’s Nicholas’s fault Julian died, you know, and he readily admits it—like that could somehow absolve him of some of the guilt. They never should have taken that path through the Himalayas, not in the rainy season. He was there to take care of Julian, to see to his needs, keep him from harm; to sacrifice his life, if need be. He should have forced them to turn around and take a different route.”
Etta turned over to face her, almost too afraid to ask. Nicholas had stopped traveling for a reason. He’d implied he was trapped in this era, and she had a feeling she was on the verge of finding out why. “What happened?”
“They were going to search the Taktsang Palphug Monastery for something Grandfather wanted—”
The astrolabe? Etta wondered. Nicholas hadn’t seemed surprised to hear of it.…
“The monastery is high in the mountains, built into a cliff with sheer walls. If you believe the rat’s story, there was a storm, and Julian slipped and fell. How could they have been standing so close to one another, and Nicholas not have been able to catch him?”
“Oh my God,” Etta whispered.
Sophia turned to face the wall, the column of her spine rigid. “One brother lived, one brother died. And if you ask me, he did it on purpose.”
Etta felt her jaw set as she hugged her arms over her stomach. “Why would he ever do that? Julian was his half brother—and more than that, Nicholas is honorable—”
“What good is honor when greed eats away at its foundations?” Sophia continued. “You’re right, though; it all comes down to the blood they shared between them. With Julian out of the picture, he had the next best claim. He is in Grandfather’s direct bloodline.”
“No,” Etta whispered, closing her eyes at the image. Not him. The thought ate away at her picture of him, dissolving it completely. He was her anchor here, the one reliable person who she could count on for the truth, for decency. She couldn’t let Sophia take that away from her, too; not until she’d heard Nicholas’s side of this. “No way.…”
“And you know what the truly sad thing is, Etta?” Sophia whispered. “If he’d asked, if he’d put his case forward, Grandfather would have considered it. I know he would have. Because being born a bastard in this family is still preferable to being born a girl.”