Eighth Moon

Chapter 15

Elaine was dreaming.

    At least she thought it had to be a dream, because suddenly she was back in the small cottage in Eindfoort in which she'd grown up, and it was early evening, where she could've sworn it had been daylight before. She sat in the kitchen. The sky was that strange, grayish-purple hue it turned when it hadn't decided if it wanted to be night yet, a dim, fading shadow cast over the rickety dining table and her mother's beloved arrangement of hanging potted plants. Elaine was alone, but she could hear the faint voices of her parents through the thin walls, hear the gentle thumping of their footsteps against the wood floors. Elaine dipped her head, examining the floors beneath her own feet. White tile, brown grout, the squares beneath the table painted with Gladiola flowers.

    Something about it, about everything, struck her as out of place, though in the fog of the dream she couldn't figure out why: like walking into a familiar room and finding one object just inches from its usual spot.

    A noise startled Elaine then: footsteps, though these were closer, lighter. She turned her head in time to catch her sister Luna coming in from the hall, on her way to the front door. She was in her uniform, a rich green suit with a dark sash across the front, boots strapped all the way up her calves. And she was beautiful. Deep-toned skin that shone like a pearl, coils swept back cleanly, full lips slightly quirked, like she was always smiling, or somewhere close.

    "Luna," Elaine said. It was imperative that she get her attention. For this, too, she didn't quite know the reason.

    Luna was grabbing her satchel from the hook by the door. She wasn't looking. She wasn't speaking.

    "Luna," Elaine said again. Then, when her sister's hand had tightened around the doorknob: "Lulu, please?"

    The thought occurred to her then, like a name she'd forgotten, finally returned to her again. If she leaves tonight, she will die.

    "Luna!"

    Luna didn't hear her. She stepped out into the settling night. When Elaine tried to go after her, she found she couldn't move.

    Chains, heavy, rusting iron, linked her ankles and wrists to the chair beneath her.

Elaine woke to the brush of someone's skin against hers, soft enough that it, too, could have been a dream.

    Then she blinked, making out Claude's worried face as he drew back his hand. "Sorry," he murmured. "I was checking to see if you had a temperature. I didn't want to wake you, but—I don't know. You looked unwell."

    Elaine sat up as Claude moved away from her, the cushioned seat beneath her reminding her that they were in the airship. Her consciousness still returning to her in waves, she made out the crowds of people moving towards the ship's exit, the clicking of luggage falling shut and the general hubbub of human existence grounding her, reminding her who she was.

    Luna—

    "We've landed," Elaine said, getting to her feet. A tinge of pain surged at her temples—curse Kellan and his bountiful free drinks the night before—but she shook it away. "We should go."

    The pensive look on Claude's face made Elaine uncomfortable, like he was about to ask.

    But he didn't. He just nodded his head, following Elaine out into the aisle. "You know where we're headed?"

    "We can stop at the inn to set our things down and see where your thingamajig is leading us," Elaine answered him, their shoes making muffled noises as they shuffled along towards the exit. "After that, we shouldn't waste any more time if we want to get anywhere before night falls."