Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

he knew that too well.
    David had once broken an engagement over a flight of stairs. Emily had been so sweet, so pretty, one of the most sought-after girls in their town—and she’d told him that she didn’t mind his injuries. David, barely past eighteen, and who’d lived for years on the outside of society, always outside, had fallen quickly in love. Though he’d been embarrassed by some of the unnecessary help she’d given him, her concern, he’d ached for it, too—the attention she bestowed so willingly. He’d longed for every gentle kiss she gave to his scars, the tears she’d wept while she wished for each drop to heal him.
    Everyone said that she was an angel, loving him despite his mangled face. They didn’t talk so loudly about the sacrifice she was making, but everyone knew what had been left unspoken.
    David’s father had warned him. She’d confused loving him with loving her role as a savior. He’d confused loving her with beinggrateful that someone would touch him without disgust, like a starving man who falls upon the first ear of corn he finds, though it is withered, without looking farther into the field to see if there are any better to have.
    His father had spoken the truth. But hunger was also a fine seasoning, making even the driest food seem succulent. David had been determinedly happy, willing to make the best of every shortcoming…until they’d begun talking about moving into her family home, and she’d refused to change the stairs to a ramp for his cart to climb. Her family was wealthy, she’d reminded him; it would be nothing to hire someone to carry him up the stairs. Why change it to accommodate his cart? It was only one flight, and he used his rolling chair inside the house. What difference did it make whether he got into the chair himself or someone placed him there? She wanted to make his life as easy as possible; after all, he’d already suffered so much.
    David discovered that he wasn’t so hungry, then.
    Emily had accused him of letting his pride stand in the way. She wasn’t wrong. He’d seen the decades stretching ahead of him—every day that she would tell him not to tire himself. That she would say there was no reason to get out of bed. She would do everything for him, take care of him. He’d understood then that she’d loved him for what he couldn’t do, not what he could.
    David would have rather given her up than his pride. So he had.
    There would always be the Emilys who kissed him out of pity, the women who flinched away in disgust. There would always be those with good intentions. It made David more grateful for rare men like Dooley, who took him as he was—and for women like Annika, who seemed to.
    No wonder the thought of losing all contact with her cut him so deeply. No wonder the thought of discovering that she might pity him or flinch away frightened him so much.
    Di Fiore’s opinion, however, didn’t matter a bit.
    Though not shed of his foul mood, David had calmed by the time he reached the dining room. Landscapes adorned the painted blue walls, but they couldn’t compete with the view. Large windows overlooked the frozen lake, the snow pinkened by the setting sun. Mountains rose in the distance, basalt peaks created by an endless tumult beneath the surface, and endlessly worn down by the elements above. Incredible. David lingered at the window before taking his chair.
    The table could seat a party twice their size, but was simply made. David had expected fancier decorations, given Komlan’s fashionable clothing and expensive jewelry. If this was all di Fiore’s doing, however, the man apparently had modest tastes.
    Sitting, di Fiore loosened his neckcloth, removed his jacket, and withdrew a pipe from his pocket. He regarded David across the table. “Komlan tells me you’re a vulcanologist?”
    “Yes.”
    “And does that pay you well?”
    The humor in his tone said that he knew it didn’t. Dooley’s laugh confirmed it. “We’re paid well enough to go on expeditions, but not quite enough to live on at home. Which is why we keep going. Wouldn’t you say so, Kentewess?”
    That wasn’t David’s only reason, but he saw no reason to share it here. “Yes.”
    Di Fiore nodded and gave him a shrewd look. “The company could use a vulcanologist. I’m not the mind my father is, but I’m determined to help him see his hopes for this island come to fruition. The potential here is…”
    He trailed off, shaking his