“
See you, then, in a bit,” he said, smiling with his little mouth.
Rein relaxed at both his and Saria’s jovial manner, but as she glanced up at the hallway frames, she noticed that they were marked strangely, which, thus, reinstated her anxiety.
Above Saria’s hall and on the frame, M-Wing was engraved. She turned around the atrium and saw that above her designated corridor the frame read V-Wing. The other two halls were the B- and C-Wing.
After thinking a moment about what they all stood for, Rein walked over to the lounge area to greet a few of the other passengers before she went to her chamber. She noticed three people seated on a sofa talking, and she approached with the notion that she could perhaps take part in their conversation. Hoping that no one would have ill feelings toward her, she took a seat near a few people talking lowly.
“
Good evening,” she said pleasantly.
The two women looked up and stared at her. One cocked her head and replied, “Good evening.”
The other said nothing, and the man sat there motionless, eyeing her up and down, staring with contempt. “Pouring out, is it?”
Rein blinked a few times in humiliation and looked down at herself. She was soaking wet and her dress was dripping onto the wooden floor.
“
Oh,” she muttered. “I’m sorry.”
The man groaned back to her in reply.
“
I’m Rein Pierson,” she said again, hoping to crawl out of the ditch he had thrown her into.
The girl who had previously answered her said nothing, staring, and the man did not respond at all. With mounting frustration, Rein stood, picked up her parcel, and walked back toward the V-Wing. She was more than slightly confused as to why no one seemed to want to greet or introduce themselves to her, but left the thoughts behind on her way.
She glanced once more around the room and noticed that there was a small dining hall in the farthest corner of the atrium, and beyond that, two of the hallways, the M- and the C-Wing, were stretched out and fading off into darkness.
Piano music began to fill the air, and Rein turned to see a young woman playing a tune. Changing her mind again, she yawned and took a seat in a grand chair that was isolated from the others. She had a headache from the ride to the ship, and she thought if she sat and closed her eyes a moment and listened to the piano, she would relax. It was an unfamiliar, melancholy tune, but she was enthralled by it. She planned to retire to her chamber, down the West hallway marked V, as soon as the song ended.
Chapter 3
The young man opened the porthole in his chamber. He had seen something moving on the deck out of the corner of his eye; he stared through the mist, and saw, in shock, that there were two girls being spoken to by the captain. After they exchanged a few words, the captain led them into the ship, and they disappeared from sight.
He stood back in his room, closing the porthole tight. His mouth was open in shock. There was never any noise there. It was always quiet and calm, and new passengers were more than rare. Turning and pacing to his front door, he opened it and walked silently into a dark corridor.
When he reached the edge of the hall, he stared out into the atrium. The captain was already in the lobby with the two women. The man ducked back into the shadows of the hall and continued to watch. One of the women caught his eye instantly.
She was standing very quietly in the foyer, clothed in a dark, tight dress, holding a dripping wet cloak over her arm. She was the taller of the two, long and slender, yet voluptuous. He felt tightened at such a Junoesque appearance. Her black hair was wet and draped against her face from the rain, despite its pinned up style.
He stepped back into the hall as she walked a little closer. He was still examining her when she began walking nearer to the stewardess at the desk. She approached a candle, and under its glow he was able to see her face in a good light.
She was incredibly beautiful; the prettiest woman he had ever seen. She had bright blue eyes and flawless lips. Her face was perfectly symmetrical and thin. She was wearing a cravat tucked into her bodice with a netted brace across her bosom, and below she wore a long, dark underdress that draped to the floor and made her body impenetrable. Long sleeves hung down smoothly, and at the wrists the sleeves were tied together and frilled. She was dressed formally, but simply still. Her figure was so striking, and her manner of speech, from what he could hear as she conversed with the stewardess, had all the elegance that any man could want.
He glanced at the other girl. She was plain, but well dressed—too extravagantly for his taste—and was shorter in stature than the other girl. Her green eyes were less elegant, and she was talking without end, giggling and beaming with gaiety. As polished a girl as she was, his eyes continued to stray toward the other. For some reason, a strange feeling kneaded at him when he looked at her.
She flashed a glance in his direction, and he withdrew back into the hallway; so far back he couldn’t see the foyer anymore. She hadn’t seen him, and he didn’t want her to.
Perhaps she would make it somewhere, wherever she thought this ship was headed. Or she might be another victim snared by the captain. He tried to think nothing of her as he turned back down the hallway and re-entered his stateroom. She was probably a typical first class woman who wanted nothing of…
An immediate knock on the door startled him, and as soon as he pushed his thoughts aside, he apprehensively answered it.
“
Hello, Romanoff,” the young man said as he opened the door from inside, regaining all composure.
“
I felt her!” Romanoff, a thin, sharp-featured man said in exasperation.
“
What the devil are you talking about?”
“
The Mistress! I felt her in my head. I think something terribly good is going to happen! Can’t you feel it?”
The man inside the door sighed. “No.”
“
Well I know you saw those women as well,” the man stated blankly from the hall. “Why didn’t you greet either of them? Perhaps that is what Mistress—”
“
Are you bloody mad? What do you mean, ‘Why didn’t I greet any of them?’”
Romanoff laughed, his French nature prominent. “No I’m not mad; how dare you! I’m entirely serious!”
The young man huffed, cocked his head toward the Frenchman, and closed the door on him. Sighing and faltering deeper into his bedroom hollow, he collapsed onto the end of his bed; his elbows leant on his knees. He ran his fingers through his hair in contemplation. He could not meet the girl he had instantly been attracted to. He felt so strange about it. He had never once seen a woman like her, and she seemed to hold more meaning for him than he could understand.
Did
she have anything to do with…?
Shifting his mystified eyes forward, he noticed a few books on his dresser that were not his. They belonged to Carden Romanoff, the man who had just been there. He sighed and stood again, picking the books up and walking back into his foyer. He left his room for the hall to find Romanoff and give him back his books, and he did so without a second thought of the women, because he knew he would see neither of them. Those ladies would
not
have been assigned a chamber down the West hallway.
Chapter 4
Rein still sat in the lobby, her wet cloak now around her arm, and bag in hand. The piano piece had ended, so she stood to go down to her chamber.
As she entered the V-Wing, her eyes couldn’t help but wander up and down, carefully studying portraits lining the corridor walls. There were portraits of families, couples, children, and single persons.
Strange
…there were no portraits in any of the other halls she had seen. Also, the expressions and positions of the people were alarming, and she felt her heart beginning to beat wildly. She shifted her glance to straight ahead of her, right down the hall. The sconces’ candlelight began to appear dimmer and dimmer as she walked, as if the hall was supposed to be closed off. With a shake of her head and an uncertain smile, she cleared her throat and searched for her room number. Why was she feeling so peculiar?
Just as her heart had begun to calm, she noticed a shadow drawing near to her out of the dimness. She heard footsteps clicking on the wooden floorboards, and she stopped cold when she realized that the dark figure was walking in her direction, slowly becoming more visible as it neared. Her heart swelled and hammered ferociously, and her mind began to exaggerate things.
But then the deep pounding of her heart relaxed into a light, unnoticeable beat. It was an oblivious gentleman approaching from the darkness with a few books in his hands, and a regretful feeling overwhelmed her for her senseless panic. What harm—? Her thoughts suddenly stopped as fast as her footsteps did. She could see the man more clearly under the sconces as he neared, and she lost her breath when she got a better look.
His muscular physique clung to her eyes from the distance. His hair was longer: it was about three quarters down his neck, somewhat long in the front as well, and a bit shaggy. It was very dark in color, but the terrible lighting made it difficult to tell whether it was black or brown. He wore no hat, either, to her surprise. It was the custom for men to wear hats, usually without exception, but it was no bother to her. She could see already that he was tall and very broad-shouldered, and his waist was thin, which enhanced his build even further. He strode toward her with a walk most precise, like a trained soldier from the military. There wasn’t the slightest sign of a slouch in his posture, yet his neck was not held tight or high by the stiff collar men generally wore. In fact, he wore only a loose white shirt—the sleeves thin but full to the wrists where they buttoned—under a waistcoat with a small and simple white cravat. His boots were displayed above his dark trousers.
She waited for him to notice her as she stood motionless in the corridor. He was still looking down, organizing his reading in his strapping arms, and when he came within a few feet of her, she felt captivated by his entire presence.
She could see clearly that he was young and extraordinarily handsome, but very pale. A shadow of bristles covered his chin and jaw, and after reviewing the fact that he was unshaven, wore no hat, and had on only a simple, loose shirt, she surmised that he was probably a rugged type of character. Though he gazed downward, his eyes unseen, and despite being unshaven, his features were perfect: his face was chiseled immaculately, and his nose and chin were very well-balanced. He had a strong jaw, short sideburns growing down his face, and flawless eyebrows. But then she noticed there were lifted scars on his face—very thin, but long. They were almost unnoticeable; almost.
He glanced up while she was in the middle of studying him. There was a sudden change in his previously calm expression; he was startled.
Then one of the sconce candles caught his eyes, and her insides wrenched. She stared at him speechlessly, her captivated feeling beginning to twist. His eyes were as unfeasible as the first man’s were. Although this man had pupils, full and dark, his surrounding irises were a fiery red.
He closed his eyes in a long blink and opened them just as slowly, altering his stare hard past her, to the atrium, and then back into her eyes.
She bit her lip quickly in frustration at herself for wearing such a shocked mask. He probably thought her an arrogant woman for making such an astonished face toward him. But as she stared, she realized that despite their alarming color, his eyes were gentle.
“
I’m sorry,” she had to say, giving up any chance of an elegant greeting. She looked down and then changed her expression to a more formal one as her head rose. “I didn’t mean to stare, sir.”
He looked grave in his stillness, and she could’ve sworn he muttered something to himself grimly. But although he returned her stare, his manner seemed reluctant. He stumbled to reply.
“
Don’t…don’t apologize,” he said as if he was only talking to cover up thought. “It’s happened before.”
She began to notice the smell of fresh, pleasing cologne coming from him, and the scent made her heart flutter. Although his burning red eyes were tense, he was charming, and she already felt pity for him because of his subtle facial scars and unique eye color. He had a heavy British accent, one that was elegant yet masculine and appealing. It seemed antiquated. As she memorized his appearance, all of his attributes began to seem alluring. Especially his eyes.
“
I’m sorry,” she repeated, pulling her head out of that daze. “There was no reason…it’s just your eyes are such a bright…
red
.” She quickly tried to correct herself. “But they are rather stunning.”
He looked genuinely shocked, as if he hadn’t heard a description like that before about himself. He looked at his books. “Stunning is an…an uncommon way of describing them,” he stuttered. “There was a laboratory accident I was in…where I am employed.” He looked at her small bag and then at her. “I live on this ship. Travel with it, working.”
Rein hesitated as his eyes met hers, piercing any veil by which she was covered. She laughed with refinement. “It’s odd, because you aren’t the first person with…” she stopped. She was ruining the conversation, and all chances of having another one with him.