Then, illuminated in silver moonlight, comes a person, walking, water up to their knees. It sloshes as they make their way toward me, agonizingly slow.

“Hello?” I call to them. In this moment, I want so desperately not to be alone.

They say nothing, but move, steady through the water, through whatever strange space this is.

I try to move my feet but find I am rooted to where I stand. Cold water soaks me, up to the knees of my tea gown, making the white translucent.

The light shifts as the figure moves closer. A moonbeam lands on a hazel eye, on a grin, on a head of curls.

Finn.

The name alone sends me reeling.

My brother’s murderer.

The boy I once thought I might’ve loved. Did I love him? Does it matter?

I want to call out to him, but his name sticks in my throat until I’m choking on it.

Finn.

I gasp awake, sweaty and panting, still in Maxine’s bed, sandwiched between her and Lena.

The ship rocks, an ever-present reminder of where I am, somewhere in the middle of the freezing Atlantic.

Lena is awake too. She nudges my knee with her foot. “Are you all right?”

I roll my ankles under the heavy covers, feeling little snaps as they shake off the stiffness of sleep.

My heart pounds in my chest. Despite the feather duvet, I’m struck with cold terror.

“Yes,” I whisper, staring at the dark ceiling. I don’t have it in me to tell her I’ve just had my first dream in nearly two years.

CHAPTER THREE

The next morning, Lena, Maxine, and I make our way for the women’s lounge on the direction of our porter. After a breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and pastries that pale in comparison to Haxahaven’s, we walk together to the glass atrium on the starboard deck.

There’s an itchy feeling under my skin I can’t shake. Does it mean something that I’ve dreamed for the first time while on my way to Europe? It has to.

I paste a smile on my face, not wishing to worry my friends, and enter the women’s lounge.

It’s beautiful, paneled in glass with endless views of the Atlantic Ocean and warm wood furniture on which to lounge.

We meet Opal Bright, a woman who looks at us with such disgust I think for a moment I must have personally done something to someone she loves.

The countess is there too, bored, staring off to sea with fresh pansies in her hair.

There’s a pair of sisters named Sylvie and Simone who smile brightly and ask us in accented English if we’d like to play shuffleboard.

I’ve got terrible aim, but the sisters smile encouragingly at me. On the court next to us, Lena and Maxine won’t stop bickering about who’s winning.