dinner.
Round tables, with chairs to sit ten, crowded into the space, lit by chandeliers of oil lamps. Eldest chose a table with easy access to the doors. She and Captain Tern sat on either side of Jerin, Summer and Corelle flanking them. Jerin was the only one able to sit and eat in peace.
Most women approaching the unoccupied chairs veered away after one hard look from Captain Tern and Eldest. When they were almost through with dinner, however, a family of four sisters sat down, ignoring the pointed stares.
“We have a hundred crowns,” the oldest-looking of the sisters stated.
“So?”‘ Eldest looked as mystified as Jerin felt.
“We’re the Turners,” the oldest Turner said. “We were going to Suttons Ferry. There’s supposedly a clean-run crib there. But we heard the talk since you’ve boarded. Four boys in your family, and you’re taking this one to market.”
Captain Tern put down her silverware and slowly slid back her chair, her hands dropping down to her gun belt.
Eldest growled softly. “Shut your mouth! My brother isn’t livestock.”
A younger Turner sister leaned in. “What my sister is saying is that your family throws lots of boys. We were going to spend ten crown a night for one of us, probably Jolie here, to try for a baby.” She indicated the youngest, a mere teenager. “We’re too poor to afford a husband, so we’re doing it by tens, as they say.”
“My brother isn’t for sale,” Eldest said.
Younger Turner said, “We’re offering twice the crib price, twenty crowns, because he’s of good lines and sure to be clean!”
“No!” Eldest shouted, drawing looks.
“Jolie is a virgin,” older Turner pressed. “She’s clean. It would be a hundred crowns in only five nights!”
“My brother’s price is four thousand and not a crown less,” Eldest said through clenched teeth.
Their jaws dropped.
“Four-four thousand?” older Turner finally stuttered, apparently torn between being angry and laughing. “‘You’re insane!”
“We’re landed gentry with royal bloodlines and throw boys,” Eldest snapped. “That’s worth four thousand to a peer!”
“But you can’t be sure,” younger Turner said. “This is money in hand. It’s not like you can tell when a man is a virgin or not.”
“No,” Eldest said quietly.
“No one would know,” younger Turner said.
“I would know,” Captain Tern stated.
“And who are you?” older Turner asked.
“Raven Tern, Captain of the Royal Guard, serving as escort to Master Whistler by order of Queens.
The Queens are sponsoring Mr. Whistler’s coming out and it would reflect poorly on them to present used goods.”
Jolie Turner laughed, which earned her a hard cuff from her older sister.
“They’re not joking, Jolie,” older Turner snapped, and stood. “My apologies. Captain. We won’t be bothering you again.”
They watched the Turners make their way back out of the dining room.
“We’re done eating,” Eldest announced, although Jerin was the only one finished. “Let’s go back to the cabins.”
It was Eldest’s turn to sleep while Captain Tern guarded the door. Eldest went into the cabin, but Jerin held back, pretending to look out over the railing at the moon shimmering on the water, the star-studded sky, and the black ribbon of shore between the two.
“Captain Tern,” Jerjn whispered so Eldest wouldn’t hear.
“Call me Raven.” Captain Tern’s low voice came out of the darkness that cloaked her.
“Raven, can I ask you a question?”
Beside him, Raven moved, and he took it to be a nod.
Wetting his mouth, he asked quietly, “Do nobles actually pay as much as four thousand crowns for a brother’s price?”
“Yes. The princesses paid nearly five thousand for their husband, Lord Keifer.”
He felt as if Raven had thrust a sword into his chest. His throat constricted around that formless blade.
“Ren-Princesses Rennsellaer and Odelia are married?”
Raven moved as if startled. “The prince consort was killed six years ago! Enemies of the crown had filled the basement of Durham Theater with gunpowder and set it off while the royal family were attending a play.”
He turned away, ashamed that Raven might see the relief in his face even in the dark. Horrible man, he thought. Her family dead, and you’re relieved. You know she’s too far above you. You’re only landed gentry. Your grandmothers were thieves, spies, common line soldiers, and kidnappers.
“Master Whistler?” Raven touched his shoulder, then quickly took her hand away. “I thought you knew.
Half the royal princesses were killed. It was all anyone would talk about for months. It was on the front page of all-” She cut her sentence short as she remembered the normal limits placed on his sex. “As a man, you couldn’t have read the papers. I’m sorry. I didn’t consider.”
“I was only ten.” Back then all he wanted to read from the newspapers were the serial stories-adventures of steamboat captains, river pirates, and card sharks. “My family might have told me, but it would have mattered little to me. Children are so self-centered.”
“Some adults too,” Raven added quietly. Jerin glanced at her, wondering if she meant him. As if sensing his expression, she said, “No, not you. You strike me as bravely selfless. Your family is putting you in a difficult position, and yet you’re not complaining.”
“If I knew they were wrong, I’d complain,” Jerin said.
“Their reasoning, though, seems sound. One of our neighbors might be able to afford a brother’s price of two thousand. Surely a noble could afford twice that. One hears how wealthy the nobility are. Their estates encompass over a hundred thousand acres. Their houses contain ballrooms, gaslights, and indoor necessities. They eat fresh fruit in the winter off of plates made of gold.”
Jerin reached out and caught Raven’s wrist. “Is it true? Are they that rich? Is there a hope that my family can get the price they want? The price they need?”
“Some noble families are richer than you can ever imagine, little one,” Raven said. “Some are poorer than your family. Some of them will look at you and see what a good, beautiful young man you are. Some will only see you as the grandson of common line soldiers. There will be families where the Eldest is free to choose any man she desires, and in other families the mothers will have to approve of you first.”
“So it’s all ‘maybe’ and ‘it depends.’ ”
“Yes.”
Jerin let go of her wrist, knowing she told him the truth, wishing she had lied. “A simple ‘yes’ would have been kinder.”
“No, it wouldn’t have,” Raven said. “Much rides on how you and your family present yourself. To get what you want, you can’t be careless in your actions.”
“I see.”
They stood in silence, absorbed in their own thoughts, as the dark river murmured far below.
“Tell me,” Raven said after a few minutes, “what does your family mean when they say ‘a shining coin’?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
“My great-great-grandmothers were first-generation line soldiers. We don’t know what drove them to enlist. Maybe it was that or starve.”
“For many it is.”
“They won their way into the Order of the Sword, giv-ing them access to the military cribs. Many families chose only one man to father all their children, to maintain the illusion of normalcy, I guess. My great-great-
