For Darkness Shows the Stars

could prove dangerous.
    It could prove deadly.
    But Tatiana composed herself quickly and steered the subject away from Elliot and back to herself. “I would love to travel more,” she admitted, “but I have had the responsibility of caring for the estate for so long. When my mother died, I was left the head of this household. I don’t know how I’d manage it from so far away.”
    “Of course,” Benedict said, though his eyes were on Elliot as he spoke.
    Elliot turned away, toward the window. She’d long ago grown bored by Tatiana’s complaints about the imaginary version of her life. That Benedict still found it a source of amusement was of little interest to her. Not when her grandfather lay dying upstairs. Not when Felicia and Kai and the other Posts were holding such remarkable secrets just out of reach. Not when the temptation to learn more about those secrets was making her doubt everything she’d ever been taught. How could she care about some petty, decade-old battle with her sister?
    Thanks to the light from the fire, the window reflected the room rather than revealing the fields and the stars. Felicia must be back at the Boatwright house now, driven safely through the darkness thanks to the unnatural vision of her Fleet Posts. She wondered if Felicia had spoken to any of them about her conversation with Elliot. She wondered if she’d spoken to Kai.
    He’d probably tell her how useless it was to discuss anything with Elliot North. The Luddite. The coward. The passive, put-upon daughter of the laziest lord in the islands.
    Elliot closed her eyes, and only opened them when Benedict spoke again.
    “That won’t do,” he said. “You’ve been isolated here for long enough. And your father, with his beautiful new racetrack to enjoy, and his extraordinary new horses to race on it—you should have a house party. It can be an opportunity for some of your friends and neighbors to see the improvements.”
    Elliot looked at him in surprise. “Now? This isn’t the time—not with my grandfather so sick, and the Boatwright house filled with the Fleet—”
    “Actually,” Benedict said, “it’s the perfect time. I understand you have a surplus cash flow due to the rent the Fleet is paying, and should the worst come to pass for your grandfather, I know there are many who would like to come pay their respects.”
    “Good point, Benedict.” Baron North turned to Elliot. “We would do your grandfather a great disservice if we kept him isolated to the end of his days, now that we have the means to properly entertain here.”
    Would her father be so concerned about her comatose grandfather’s social schedule if he didn’t have horses and a new racetrack to show off?
    “And of course,” Benedict said, “you can invite the Cloud Fleet to the festivities as well.”
    “Of course,” Tatiana said. “It would be rude not to, although they aren’t Luddites.”
    Benedict nodded in agreement. “No, they aren’t. But they are staying on your land. And, after all, the horses are Innovation horses.”
    “Yes.” The baron cleared his throat. “I am not concerned by all Post products, you see.”
    Benedict directed another sly smile at Elliot, trying again to get her to share in his jokes at her father’s expense.
    She didn’t begrudge Benedict his right to make these little jabs, and was impressed by his ability to do so in a way that left both Baron North and Tatiana completely ignorant of his true meaning, but Benedict North had nothing to lose—he’d already lived life outside the baron’s good graces and seemed to have survived it quite well. She didn’t have such luxury. Her father could still hurt Elliot if he wanted to—and if she started teasing him, she was sure he’d want to very much.
    The others soon fixed on a date for their proposed house party and horse race, and their plans left Elliot doing mental calculations as to how much the event would eat into their savings, and into money she was hoping to make last several years. Her father and Tatiana might be optimistic, but one couldn’t expect someone to rent the Boatwright facilities every year.
    “You see, Elliot,” the baron said at last, “this is a much better use of the field than a few extra stalks of wheat.”
    Safe at the window, Elliot rolled her eyes, but if her cousin saw it, she neither knew nor cared. It had taken her years, but now, at last, she realized the truth. Her father would never stop goading her. If she