For Darkness Shows the Stars

if Felicia was as strict about using her new name as Kai was.
    “What a pretty scarf you have.” The woman gestured to Ro’s hair.
    Ro smiled. “Kai,” she said, and pointed.
    Felicia faced him. “Malakai? Do you know what she’s talking about?”
    Kai shrugged. “Her hair was in her face.”
    “Hmm,” was all that Felicia said.
    “I’m going to see if Donovan needs anything.” Kai jumped to his feet and left.
    “Oh good, now there’s space for us all.” Olivia scooted over. “Sit here, Elliot.”
    Elliot sank into the spot Kai had vacated. It was still warm with his body heat. She found herself staring at the swirling patterns on the thick hem of Olivia’s red skirt. He’d touched that skirt. He’d been lying with his head on her knee.
    All of Elliot’s pretty words to Dee went straight out of her head. There was no point in denying it.
    Kai was in love with Olivia Grove.

Fifteen
     
    “IS RO YOUR HANDMAIDEN?” Felicia asked as Elliot caught her breath.
    But she was spared from answering, as Horatio laughed. “More like her assistant. Elliot’s always working with the plants, and Ro’s a gardener herself. She’s pretty good, too, for someone Reduced.”
    “Intriguing.”
    “Ro and I are precisely the same age,” Elliot said, forcing herself to pay attention to the conversation instead of the massive sinkhole that had just opened in her heart. “I’ve always felt a certain degree of protectiveness over her for that reason. And yes, she is very good with flowers.”
    “But Captain Wentforth really gave her that scarf?” Olivia asked in disbelief. “It’s silk—it must be.” She held out her hand toward Ro. “Let me see your scarf, girl.”
    Ro put a hesitant hand to her head, and looked to Elliot for assistance.
    “It’s okay, Ro. She’ll give it back.”
    Ro pulled the scarf from her hair and handed it over.
    “Why would he do that?” Olivia asked. “Real silk? Just handing it to some laborer?”
    “You forget he’s a Post, Olivia,” said Elliot, though not as unkindly as she wished to. It wasn’t Olivia’s fault. She was a sweet girl. Kai no longer loved Elliot. She’d known that for weeks. For years, if she was completely honest with herself. “You see some laborer. He sees someone who could be his sister.”
    For years, Ro had practically been his sister. Elliot had been something even more. But it was all over now.
    “True,” Olivia replied, letting the material slide through her fingers. “But still . . . silk. I don’t own anything in silk.” There was no need for her to say anything more. Captain Wentforth hadn’t given her anything in silk. Elliot hated the small thrill of triumph she felt when she realized that.
    And thinking this conversation had gone on long enough, she took back the scarf. “Come here, Ro. I’ll braid your hair.” Ro slid into place, and Elliot began the tedious process of finger-combing her tangled red locks.
    Around them, the light began to fade, and Felicia asked Olivia if she intended to sing that evening.
    Olivia blushed prettily. “I’d be quite outdone by Donovan.”
    “Yes. He has a beautiful voice,” Felicia said softly.
    “That’s an understatement,” Horatio said. “It’s unearthly. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
    Felicia looked a bit uneasy. “It’s something truly special. I just wish he’d choose a different subject.”
    Olivia’s expression turned grave to match her host’s. “Perhaps you’d accompany me to the cider kegs, Mrs. Innovation? I think I might be persuaded to sing if I can get something to drink.”
    “Thank you, dear,” said Felicia. “We both seem to have lost our escorts this evening.”
    “And what am I?” asked Horatio with a chuckle.
    “My chaperone,” Olivia said and stuck her tongue out at him. Elliot concentrated very hard on Ro’s braid.
    “Let us all go get some food and drink before the concert starts,” said Felicia. “Perhaps I can even track down my husband. Elliot, can we bring you and Ro anything?”
    “Cider for me, and cider and soup for Ro, please,” Elliot said, and the Groves and Felicia departed toward the buffet tables.
    Ro would love the idea of another special meal so soon. The Norths had never withheld food from their Reduced as some other Luddite lords did, but they only got special meals three times a year—midsummer, midwinter, and harvest. Elliot remembered their feast days as they’d been when her mother had been