For Darkness Shows the Stars

has punished her.
    Your friend,
    Elliot
        
     
    Dear Elliot,
    No kidding.
    Your friend,
    Kai
    PS: Would you really let me starve?
        
     
    Dear Kai,
    That was the craziest part of her letter. I had no idea you worked twelve hours a day. How do you have time to see me at all? How do you have time to read?
    Your friend,
    Elliot
        
     
    Dear Elliot,
    What do you mean? There are twenty-four hours in a day. I only have to work for twelve.
    Your friend,
    Kai

Thirty-three
     
    “YOU’RE COMING TO THE race and that’s final. The Reduced laborers can prepare grandfather’s body without your supervision.” Tatiana stood at the door of Elliot’s room and slapped her riding crop impatiently against her thigh. Her dark hair was swept up in an elaborate system of braids that must have taken her maid hours to achieve, and her new riding habit was a deep, rich green velvet, complete with fringe, tassels, and gold buttons. Elliot supposed if she was going to ride a Post horse, she might as well dress up in a Post costume.
    The irony was lost on her sister though. Today she was hosting a party for her fellow Luddite lords, but every detail, including the money used to pay for the extravaganza, was Post. This funeral was already an embarrassment. A horse race, to honor the Boatwright? It was ludicrous. Even a boat race would be preferable, but Tatiana and her father wouldn’t triumph there, and there was a real danger that the Cloud Fleet captains would.
    “If there is no need to supervise the Reduced, then why do we?” Elliot asked. “Why do we imprison them when they are pregnant? Why do we control their movements? Why do we keep them like slaves?”
    Tatiana rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, little sister. You know what I mean. We have set them a task and they can accomplish it quite well without your help. You are a daughter of Baron North and my sister, and you should be there to see me win this race. If you aren’t there, everyone will wonder why.”
    “Or maybe they will think that I am in proper mourning for our grandfather.” Unlike Tatiana, who insisted on riding in the race, despite Elliot’s misgivings. After much more debate than Elliot would have thought possible, they’d come up with a solution that pleased three of the four of them: Benedict would ride one of the Innovation horses for the Norths, and Tatiana would ride the other in honor of her Boatwright heritage.
    “The Fleet Posts are coming,” Tatiana said, ignoring Elliot’s remark. “You like them so much, I’m certain you’ll want to see them. And Horatio is bringing Olivia. That means Captain Wentforth will be there.” Her voice dripped with disdain over Kai’s Post moniker. “Don’t you want to see them?”
    See them together? Tatiana was truly making a case for herself. “I know you’d prefer not to,” Elliot said.
    “If I were you,” Tatiana replied, “I’d attach myself to Horatio as quickly as possible, lest Olivia and her Post friend try to take over the Grove estate.”
    Elliot was sick of this argument. Almost as sick as she was of imagining a future where Kai remained here permanently—with Olivia Grove. “The last thing Captain Wentforth needs is an estate. And the last thing we need is any more arranged marriages.”
    Tatiana raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What do you mean? Who has arranged a marriage around here?”
    So Benedict hadn’t told Tatiana of their mother’s history.
    “Elliot?” Tatiana repeated. “Has Father said anything to you?”
    Elliot almost laughed at the idea of her father telling her anything. But her father’s renewed closeness to his nephew finally made sense. There was nothing he could do to change Benedict’s claim to the estate. Benedict had been invited home with open arms for Tatiana’s benefit. Her father knew his best chance of keeping the estate for his eldest daughter lay in marrying her off to the Norths’ rightful heir.
    But she doubted Benedict would be so easily swayed. No matter what he’d said to her when he first arrived, his snide remarks made it clear he hadn’t forgiven his uncle for the banishment, and he would be unlikely to do anything to oblige him—like following the Luddite tradition of an arranged marriage . . . to his cousin.
    “I’m not going to the race,” was all Elliot would say. “I’m going to stay with Grandfather until the funeral. We’ve put it off long enough.”
    Tatiana pursed her lips, slapped her