Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

either absurd or simpleminded. It felt absolutely lovely that someone thought she might be fascinating, instead.
    But she was more interested in him. “I think we should talk about you. Why volcanoes? Do you travel often? Have you ever had to fight zombies as you climbed to a mountain peak? Oh, it all begins to sound like an Archimedes Fox adventure.”
    “With fewer villains?” His warm, quiet laugh drew her in. “It is nothing so exciting—and I’m also familiar with this topic. We should talk about everyone else in this room instead.”
    He was joking, but it sounded like a fine idea to Annika. No doubt whatever he shared of his companions would also tell her more about him. And she enjoyed listening to him—the rhythm of his words sounded like a pony at a trot. Duh dum duh dum . His speech was much more pleasant than riding at that pace, however, with no sense of being bounced around.
    “All right, I will begin.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Did you see the young brown-haired man sitting at the chair beside the bookshelf?”
    He didn’t look away from her. “Yes.”
    “That is Mr. Otto, the navigator. While he sits, he listens to everyone talk—he listens to your friends now—but rarely speaks on his own. He pines for a woman instead, carving tiny flowersinto that whalebone busk. Since I have been aboard, he has carved over a dozen of them.”
    “For one woman, or for many?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t even know if he has met one yet or merely waits for love to come along. But hopefully she will wear a corset, or that busk will be only good to pry open another crate of whisky. He’s rather fond of that, too. And if you ever have trouble sleeping, ask him whether a homolographic projection is superior to a sinusoidal projection, and you will nod off in minutes.”
    “Map projections? Goltzius might engage him in that debate.”
    One of his companions. “Is he the younger or the older?”
    “Younger.”
    “And?”
    “I believe he fell in love with Miss Neves the moment she sat at the captain’s table.”
    “I can’t blame him.” Though Annika doubted it was love. “I’ve seen her.”
    “So have I.” He seemed about to say something more, then shook his head. “Goltzius also prefers coffee to tea.”
    “Who does not?”
    “Me.”
    “Oh.” She sat back. “I must end our acquaintance now.”
    This time, he didn’t just offer the one-sided smile. He grinned in full, and Annika’s delight warmed her from head to toe. “Will you absolve me of my sin if I tell you that I never drink it? On an expedition, the weight of every item is carefully considered, and I was overruled by a two-to-one vote. So our sleds will carry coffee.”
    “Then your abominable taste is forgiven.”
    “You said that as well as a queen.” He glanced at her neck. “Goltzius’s cousin could wear that ruff without question. His is one of the great Dutch families that settled early in Johannesland.”
    “Which one?”
    “They are the Great Dukes of Erie, now. I don’t know what they were before.” He paused, watching her face. “What is it?”
    She shook her head. How could she tell him that his friend was a relation to the man that Hanna and the Englishwomen had killed to secure their freedom? A prince’s son—and the reason they’d fled to Iceland.
    That had happened more than a century ago. The women of Hannasvik no longer had reason to fear the repercussions of that murder…but they had other reasons to stay hidden now.
    So Annika had reasons to keep that secret. In response to his concern, she shook her head.
    “Nothing. Something that I ate disagrees with me.” Judging by his stifled laugh, that wasn’t the sort of admission one made. Ah, well. He already knew that she often flung propriety around by the nose. “Please, go on. Why is such a lofty person traveling with you now? What kind of expedition are you on?”
    “We plan to make a survey of Iceland. Goltzius is our botanist.”
    “ All of Iceland?”
    “Yes.” The glow of the lamp reflected in the dark, flat lens of his eyepiece, creating the illusion of depth—and making his gaze seem all the more penetrating. “That upsets you?”
    “No,” she lied. “It is just dangerous, yes? The wild dogs. And…and…” Oh, what else? What else would he believe ? “And the boiling mudpots!”
    “I intend to study the mudpots, and we’re prepared for the dogs. Have you been to the island?”
    “Only where Phatéon has