Even the window wasn't far enough away. Elliot made a beeline for the door.

The admiral followed, stopping her in the hall. "Miss Elliot."

She turned. "Excuse me, sir, I should really look in on my grandfather-"

"I wanted a chance to speak with you," he said, coming close and dropping his voice.

Elliot bobbed her head. Perhaps he had something to say about Kai . . .

"I know to whom I am really indebted to for this opportunity," he said instead. "Your father's was the signature on the bottom of the letter, but I'm not ignorant of the way things work on the North estate."

"Sir, I-" How did he know? If it was Kai who told him, then she was safe. But if rumors had spread beyond the boundary of the estate, if her father caught wind of them . . .

"Your father isn't even here to greet us. But you are."

"My father was called away . . ." But the lie faltered on her lips.

"I appreciate your advocacy," the admiral said quickly, as if he hadn't noticed. "Please let me know if there's anything I can do to make sure things run as smoothly as possible."

Now Elliot met his eyes-blue and watery, with the start of cataracts from staring too long into the glittering sea. The admiral smiled at her.

"When I meet a Luddite like you, I have hope for our world."

Elliot blinked as his words stung someplace deep inside. A Luddite like her? Her father would argue she wasn't one at all.

Six.

AT LAST SHE WAS alone, and of course she returned to the barn. The sky had turned the color of Post overcoats as the sun set, and now stars winked at the edge of the jagged black horizon. The barn was dark, and the familiar sound of lowing cattle had been replaced with the soft shuffling and snorts of the new horses. Elliot leaned her head against the door and sighed. The darkness was another relief. He hadn't come here.

Elliot lit a lantern. As always, her eyes went first to the knot of wood near the floor by the entrance. It was a habit she'd been unable to break in four years. And, just like every other time in the past four years, the knothole remained empty.

The dairy equipment had been stacked neatly in a corner to make room for the newcomers, and Dee and the dairymaids had been instructed on the new routines. With luck, there'd be no break in the milk production, despite the reduced working s.p.a.ce. They couldn't afford that, even with the influx of money from the admiral's rental. Everything else in the barn remained the same. The giant shadows of their few remaining pieces of machinery loomed from every corner. Perhaps she could use some of the money to buy replacement parts for the pieces that were broken beyond Elliot's ability to repair them. After all, they'd been without a mechanic on the estate for four years.

There was a sound from above-the creaking of boards, an unmistakable footfall. Elliot lifted her lantern, but could see nothing on the stairs. She heard a small meow, but that step was far too heavy to have been made by Nero. Steeling herself, she ascended the stairs.

The pa.s.sage above was similarly black, but as she shone the lantern down the hall, she saw him. He stood before the door to his old room, his back toward her, the old yellow barn cat Nero twining in figure eights round his feet.

"h.e.l.lo," she said again.

"The door is locked," was his only reply. He didn't turn around. Nero was rubbing his whiskers against Kai's trouser leg. That cat hated every maid in the dairy. It was a wonder he'd lived as long as he had, that he hadn't drowned years ago in a pail of milk. But he'd been Kai's, and so he'd stayed.

Everything of his had stayed-his old pallet and blankets-though they hadn't smelled like him for years-a sweater she supposed was too holey for him to take, and, of course, her letters to him. He'd left them all behind, though she didn't know if it was because he'd been angry or because he had intended to leave them.

Thinking he'd have the real thing with him instead.

Elliot drew closer, then hesitated. Wouldn't he even face her? "Yes. I have . . . equipment in there."

"Unlock it," said the back of Kai's head.

"No."

Now he turned, but just as before in the drawing room, he wouldn't meet her eyes. "This is my old room." As if she didn't know. "I want to see it."

He wanted to see the room even more than he wanted to see her?

"I don't have the key with me." Elliot was glad now that he wouldn't look her in the face, or she was sure he'd see her lie. "It's just . . . storage."

That, at least, was the truth. It was where she stored things she didn't want anyone else to know about.

He cast one more glance at the padlock, then shoved away from the door. "Fine."

"Kai," she said, and he stopped. Enough of this silly, stilted conversation. They were alone now. Again, she stretched out her hand. "I can't believe it's you."

The corners of his mouth turned up, but no emotion supported the smile. Elliot realized her hand still hung there in s.p.a.ce and s.n.a.t.c.hed it back. She gripped the handle of the lantern until her fingernails bit into her palm.

"I look so different?" he asked.

Yes. "That's not what I mean. I didn't know you were Captain Wentforth. That all the things I've read, all the things he's done-I thought he was older."

"I guess my leaving didn't turn out to be the disaster you'd thought." Still he stared past her, at the wall.

"No, Kai-"

"Don't call me that. That isn't my name any longer."

Elliot nodded and shifted a bit to the left, trying to see his face, which only made him avert his gaze even more. "I like your new name," she said softly. "Your father would have been so proud of you." When he failed to respond, she forged ahead. "What should I call you now? Wentforth, as the others do? Malakai?" She took a step toward him.

He faced her full on now, and she stopped dead. In the flickering lamplight, his black eyes seemed lit with stars, as cold and inhuman as the expression on his face. "I don't foresee that you'll have much reason to call me anything at all."

He brushed past her, his touch nothing more than a rasp of fabric against fabric, and disappeared down the stairs. Elliot heard the barn door open and close. He was gone. Just like that. She leaned hard against the wall, her heart pounding, her lungs screaming to cry out his forbidden name.

Kai. It bubbled to her lips, and she closed her mouth around it, felt it echo against her jaw and teeth and tongue. It wasn't his name any longer, and what was more, this man was no longer Kai. Not the Kai she'd known all her life. Not the Kai she'd held in her mind these past four years, the one she'd invented in the dark of the night, when she dared to imagine that things might be different. That Kai was clearly a fantasy. The man he'd become would probably deem it a nightmare.

Once her breath returned to normal, she straightened, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a key. She crossed to the lock and inserted it, but paused to shutter the lamp before she opened the door. She couldn't risk anyone seeing the light through the window. Not tonight. Not Kai.

Inside, the darkness rustled around her. She moved through the s.p.a.ce from memory. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and slips of paper whispered upon her face and her hands. Her fingers reached her desk and then the window with its heavy shade. Beyond, the moon would be rising.

She lifted the shade and bathed the room in silver. Moonlight glinted off the gla.s.s and metal instruments on her desk and vanished into the eaves. Moonlight skimmed over the floorboards and made Nero's eyes a shimmering green. It wasn't enough to work by. It wasn't enough to read by. But who needed to read? She knew them by heart.

All around her, strung from the ceiling and wafting softly in the draft, Kai's paper gliders glowed in the moonlight like pale spring shoots bursting from the soil.

FIVE YEARS AGO.

Dear Elliot, Thank you for the textbooks. I put them right back where you told me. I can't believe my da doesn't know anything about the wars. Especially if they did all that stuff like your textbooks say. Can you imagine always knowing exactly where you are in the world, just with a machine? I can't help but be really mad at the people who screwed that up for us.

By the way, I'm putting all this in the letter because I don't think it's a good idea to talk about it in front of my da. He got very upset when I told him about the Reduced infantry in the Second War of the Reduction. I suppose that's why they only teach that stuff to Luddites.

Your friend, Kai Dear Kai, I know! I find it amazing, some of the things they could do before the Reduction. (Just don't tell anyone I said that.) My grandfather has one of those old compa.s.ses on the wall in his house. The wheel just goes round and round now. One day I'll sneak you in to see it.

What I learned in school is that the Lost were so desperate, knowing that all their offspring would be Reduced and in a generation their entire society would be gone, that it didn't matter to them what happened. They wanted to make sure that no one stole what they thought was theirs, even if all their descendants wound up Reduced and couldn't use it. They thought that if they couldn't have their technology, their land, their things, no one could. My Luddite ancestors survived, but there were whole countries that at the time were too poor to have the ERV procedure. The Lost bombed them into oblivion rather than let them inherit the Earth. The same thing would have happened to us if we hadn't hid away in the caverns.

I'll tell you a secret. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like, to live before the Reduction. Can you imagine knowing what way you're going without using the stars? I read these stories in the books about England or Greece or Egypt or China and I wonder if they are still out there. Do you?

I'm sorry if I upset Mal, even inadvertently.

Your friend, Elliot Dear Elliot, I know they are still out there. The wars couldn't have destroyed everything. They just can't find us, same as we can't find them. (Don't tell anyone I said that.) And don't worry about my da. He's been cranky recently. He keeps saying stuff like he's run out of things to teach me. But about this I guess I understand. He can't help but picture his parents or his brothers and sisters being used as Reduced infantry to draw away the seeker bombs. That's really upsetting.

I'm glad we don't have wars anymore. The Reduced have it bad enough without being used as living targets.

Your friend, Kai Dear Kai, I still don't understand. Obviously, no one in your ancestry was ever in the Wars, or you wouldn't have been born. Your family was protected by their Luddite lords. They would have been under the care of the Norths, not someone who was Lost. So I don't see why it bothers Mal.

Your friend, Elliot Dear Kai, Where were you today? You didn't write me a letter and you weren't in the barn.

Your friend, Elliot Dear Kai, It's now been a week. I spoke to Mal today and he said he didn't know where you were. I know that's not true, and I know you got my last letter. If you're mad at me, I wish you'd tell me why.

Your friend (I hope!).

Elliot.

Seven.

ELLIOT SET OUT EARLY the next morning to see Ro. She should be told if Kai was back. After all, she'd probably been more outwardly upset than Elliot when he'd left the first time.

That morning, Ro's group was working in the easternmost field, and when Elliot arrived, the foreman, Gill, gave her a wry look. "Come to see what all the commotion is about?"

"What do you mean?" Elliot asked.

Gill nodded his head in the direction of the laborers. "It's not for me to say she shouldn't have it, Miss Elliot, but I can't guarantee there won't be a fight before the day's out. Favoritism and all that. My own common-law doesn't have anything half so pretty."

Elliot peered into the field, searching for Ro's bright hair, but saw no sign of it. Instead, she saw something else. "Ro!" she called, and waved the girl over.

Ro ran up to the boundary fence, her face split in two by a smile, her hair mostly hidden beneath a silky scarf the color of shaded summer leaves. It made her skin glow. It made her green eyes stand out from her face. Kai had not forgotten Ro. He even remembered the precise shade of her eyes.

Ro giggled and twirled, pointing to the scarf.

"It's beautiful, Ro," Elliot said, trying to keep the unexpected stiffness out of her voice. He'd brought Ro a present.

"I'd have already taken it off her," Gill added helpfully. "But I know you have a special fondness for this one."

She should take the scarf from Ro, Elliot thought, for all the reasons Gill had mentioned, and more besides. Ro was a very pretty girl, and not a child any longer, either. The vile sorts of things that happened on other estates were forbidden on the North estate-her father had his faults, but he was scrupulous when it came to the behavior of the people who lived on his lands. Her cousin Benedict had been sent away years ago for taking advantage of a Reduced girl. Still, there were dangers out there, as well as changes that she wasn't sure Ro herself was ready to make. Other Reduced her age were already mothers, but Ro had never shown much interest in children or the birthing house. All she cared about were her flowers.

Elliot beckoned Ro closer, then touched the edge of the scarf. It felt cool and silky beneath her fingertips and she wondered what it could be made of. Bamboo, perhaps? Not real silk, certainly. A silk scarf was worth a sizable percentage of the yearly income of the estate. Not even Malakai Wentforth could have that much to spend on a scarf. How many sun-carts could he have possibly found?

"Kai!" Ro said with glee, tugging it off and handing it to Elliot.

She hadn't spoken his name since a few months after he'd gone. Sometimes Elliot wondered if Ro even remembered her old friend. But clearly, she hadn't forgotten him any more than he had her. This was such a very Ro gift-green and pretty and utterly decorative. It wouldn't keep her warm. It was far too slippery to hold back her hair. But Kai understood Ro as well as Elliot did. She loved beauty. And so that's what he'd brought her.

Elliot handed the scarf back. She wouldn't be the one to deprive Ro of that. "Be careful with it. It's very fine."

Ro nodded seriously, then pushed it back onto her head with muddy fingers.

As she returned to Gill, he clucked his tongue. "You spoil her."

"Do you have a complaint about the quality of her work?"

"Point taken." He gazed out over the fields. "Miss Elliot, I don't mean to pry, but there's talk . . ."

"Yes, Gill?"

"The Posts living up at the Boatwright house. The Cloud Fleet, they call themselves. There's someone we know up there, isn't there?"

"Yes." She toed the dust at the fence line before lifting her gaze back to the older man's. "Mal's son is back."

ELLIOT HAD DOUBTED THAT Tatiana's offer to show the Fleet the star-cavern sanctuary was a serious one, so she was surprised when her sister organized a tour the following day. Tatiana intercepted her as soon as Elliot returned to the house from the dairy.

"Take off those clothes and run a comb through your hair," her sister ordered. "We're taking our guests to the sanctuary."

Elliot's eyes widened. "Do you think Father would approve of that?"

"Do you think Father would approve of you appearing in front of our tenants looking like a Reduced servant girl?" Tatiana replied. "You might see them any moment."

Elliot wondered if Tatiana would be so concerned with Elliot's attire had the Fleet Posts not looked so very fashionable. But there was no arguing with her sister, so she went to her room and spent a good five minutes standing before her wardrobe in search of a suitable outfit.

Very little would do. Her nice clothes were old and ill-fitting. She had several of Tatiana's hand-me-downs, but no amount of seam letting-out and hem-dropping would disguise the fact that they had been made for someone smaller all around. And even the nicest of them featured the pale, drab Luddite colors. She finally settled on her darkest dress-the faded black mourning gown she'd worn four years ago at her mother's funeral. It didn't fit quite right, since she'd filled out a lot since she was fourteen, but it would have to do. She brushed her long black hair and pinned it up so it fell loose down her back, realizing even as she did that it hadn't been cut in four years, either. Her mother used to trim it for her. Lately, she just braided it to get it out of the way.

It was an all-too-common occurrence around here. Hasty repairs, because Elliot hadn't the means to really fix problems, stopgap deals struck with debtors who deserved repayment, pleas to the North Posts to be patient a little longer while Elliot tried to hold the estate together and bring in another harvest. Who had time to mess with clothes and hair?

By the time she met her sister at the front door, their neighbors Horatio and Olivia Grove had joined her. The Groves were another old Luddite family, though their estate was a fraction of the size of the Norths'. Horatio had inherited the estate three years ago as a young teen, and together with the help of his Posts, had managed to make their orchards and vineyards quite profitable by the time he was twenty. Elliot often wondered if she would have been capable of the same, had she been more talented at battling her father.

"A dress, Elliot?" Horatio asked wryly as she greeted him. "Not to be outdone by these fashionable Posts?"