Page 52 of A Yulean Sister’s Guide to Getting Kidnapped

“What am I looking for?” I asked.

“Information about this,” he said, wrapping a finger around my necklace.

I gasped, and grabbed his finger. I meant to push it away, but instead held it closer.

“Why are you looking for that?” I asked. “Isn’t this woman supposed to get it off.”

“Indeed,” he said. “But don’t you want to know what it does exactly?”

“Not particularly.” What if I found out it was… killing me, slowly at least. Or slowly turning me into a fish. Or something else more awful I’ve yet to think of.

“Well, I do,” he said. “There must be a text somewhere for something crafted like that.”

I wanted to ask him again what he thought he could discover that that royal court couldn’t, but he was so stubborn, I knew that was the only reason for it.

“Fine, so you just want me to read?”

“Read, and write it down if you find anything helpful.”

That was easy enough. I knew how to read, and this didn’t require much effort.

A cleared throat at the door made me jump, and I released Shadowhart’s finger I didn’t remember I was still holding.

My eyes widened when I saw the man who was with Shadowhart at the ball. Though Shadowhart looked very different when he wasn’t in the estate, he looked almost the exact same. He wore the same waistcoat and glasses, looking misplaced here on the ship.

“This is Bramwell,” Shadowhart explained. “He’s been doing this research, and will be working with you.”

“Hello, Princess Sage,” he said, bowing in the respect I was used to.

“Hi,” I said. Though it was the treatment that was normal for me, here, it felt odd, like I should bow back.

“I need to meet with Connie about mooring,” Shadowhart straightened, “but you two can get on, and let me know if you find anything.”

Shadowhart slid by Bramwell, even though he was much bigger and the door was very small.

“We’re docking?” I asked.

He turned. “We are. We need to stop for supplies since we were in such a hurry to leave our last port.”

“We can’t just go directly there?” I asked, feeling suddenly anxious to get this thing off as soon as possible.

“Not unless you want everyone to starve,” he said.

I held in the childish groan of frustration. “Fine.”

“Should we get started?” Bramwell asked, stepping to the other side and opening a book of his own.

Shadowhart was gone now, so I grabbed one off the top and got to reading. As I skimmed, I realized these were all children’s stories. What possible use could these have?

None, probably. It was clear I was just here to be babysat, but at least I was being left alone. Bramwell was in his own world, engrossed in his own book.

So I kept flipping through mine, doing what I was asked. I became very engrossed in a story about a frog trying to make his way down a long brook. The lesson was clearly about moving forward, and the importance of trying new things, but I wasn’t sure I agreed.

“Find anything?” Bramwell asked, just as the frog was about to take a leap across the rushing stream, with the potential to fall in and end up right back to where it started.

“No,” I said, not like I expected to. The act that I was helping was getting very patronizing. Like when Sybil used to ask me to “help” her with some tasks Mother gave her, but they turned out to just be false errands she used to keep me out of the way.

He nodded seriously.