“And that comes as a surprise to you, of course.” Nausicaa’s deep, thrumming voice came from behind Luce’s shoulder. Luce twisted around to see the dark flash of Nausicaa’s eyes—while a few feet farther back another immense gray presence came surging up. Its head was long and tapered, patched with barnacles like pale scabs; its eyelids were thick, lemon-shaped, and as rough as rinds. One glossy black eye pivoted to inspect them with fathomless awareness. Luce gasped a little, suddenly understanding what Dorian had felt. She forced herself to look away so that she could meet Nausicaa’s ironic stare, and all the while she kept her hold on Dorian’s left hand where it gripped the boat. Just in case . . .

“Nausicaa . . .” Luce struggled to sound normal, to remember what she was supposed to say. “This is Dorian. Dorian, meet Nausicaa.”

Luce watched Nausicaa calmly twist her head sideways to inspect the indication that flickered around Dorian. Luce hoped Dorian hadn’t noticed.

“Hey, Nausicaa.” Dorian’s gaze was challenging and, to Luce, impressively steady. He actually leaned from the boat to extend his free hand in Nausicaa’s direction. “Luce has told me a lot about you.”

Nausicaa gave the outreached hand a single brooding glance, but didn’t approach. “She has said nothing of you, however,” Nausicaa growled. “Except that she does not consider you a story.”

It occurred to Luce with a jolt that, even if Nausicaa wasn’t exactly being friendly, she was still violating the timahk by speaking to Dorian at all.

The gray whale stayed where it was, gazing into each of them in turn, while another surfaced on the opposite side of the boat. The boat looked so vulnerable between the whales, no stronger than an eggshell. The three of them were drifting inside a huge building with living walls.

“I get that a lot.” Dorian smiled, lowering his hand as if he hadn’t noticed Nausicaa’s rudeness. The boat pitched, and he doubled over, grasping at the seat before he was able to right himself. “Look. You care about Luce, right?” All the flippancy had abruptly disappeared from Dorian’s voice.

“I do,” Nausicaa acknowledged, but she sounded cold. Luce could see the churning pallor of the water where Nausicaa’s tail was stirring. Still, there was a focused brightness in those glittering dark eyes that suggested Nausicaa was more intrigued than she wanted to admit.

“Then why don’t you want her to be happy?” Dorian asked seriously. “She’s going to live for maybe hundreds of years. You really think she should never get to be in love?”

Nausicaa’s stare was acerbic, but Luce noticed that she didn’t even try to answer the question. “I suppose you claim to care for her, Dorian?”