Some forty minutes later, and after giving a massive tip to Ms. Smithe, they stood in front of the floor length mirror, smiling widely. Their hair had grown long enough to part fashionably to the side, slicked back into a gentle wave. The red silk, brocade bodice accented their curves, while the white wing-tux shirt closed perfectly around their slender neck. A jeweled brooch of their family crest sat perfectly beneath their Adam’s apple. A soft, deep purple velvet cutaway coat perfectly matched their cartridge-pleated, bustled, floor-length skirt. The skirts were so thick that no one could see the highly polished heeled boot, but that was alright. They knew they were there.

Confidence surged through them, bringing tears to their eyes. “Now…” they said to their reflection, “I’m ready.”

As Meeka was escorted to the Captain’s table for dinner, they stood tall walking through the dining hall. Most of the guests were already seated and they could feel eyes turned on them as they went past each table. Meeka didn’t dare glance around at their spectators, for they knew what they would see: disapproval, disgust, hatred…

Focused solely on the back of their escort’s head, they didn’t see the carelessly dropped napkin which suddenly lay in their path. Without so much as a warning, the small piece of cloth became trapped between their boots, nearly bringing Meeka to the ground. The only thing that stopped their fall were two strong hands on their shoulder and forearm. “I’m so sorry, Gentlesoul. Are you hurt?”

Meeka looked up to see a man, still half seated, helping them to their feet. “No, I’m… I’m well, thank you.”

“My apologies, Gentlesoul,” he went into a half bow, now fully standing. “It was my napkin. I’m happy you are not harmed. And my I say… you look stunning.”

Meeka blushed deeply as the man took the back of their hand and kissed it gently. They looked away, finally meeting the eyes of those around them. But they found no disgust, nor hatred. Instead, every eye they met looked… admiring, pleased, even potentially jealous!

With a nod of gratitude, Meeka continued behind their escort, finding it difficult not to grin. Quietly, they asked, “What did he mean by ‘Gentlesoul’?”

“It is the gender neutral, my liege,” she replied dryly. “It is very common in the South.” Meeka silently praised their own decision to move to the Isle as they approached the table.

The Captain and the other crew members stood and bowed to Meeka as they took their seat. They had barely glanced at the officers before waving for them to take their seats again.

“Lovely to see you again. So glad you accepted my dinner invitation,” a warm voice to their right said.

Meeka’s eyes fell on the Officer they had run away from earlier, who just so happened to be seated next to them.

“I believe you are sitting in the Captain’s chair,” Meeka blurted out before they had realized what they were saying.

“Gasp, you speak!” The Officer chuckled. “You would be correct, I am sitting in the Captain’s chair.”

“Do tell, why would you be sitting here? You are much too young to be a Captain,” Meeka waved him off.

He laughed again, “I can assure you, I am the Captain. I suppose I am younger than most, but I would never lie to you.”

“Why were you just wandering out on deck earlier then?” they asked still suspicious of him.

“I was about to tender a personal invitation for you to dinner,” he supplied. He had not taken his eyes off of Meeka and it was making them uncomfortable. Why was he watching them so intensely?

“You asked me my name, not to dinner,” Meeka scoffed.

“I hate to disagree with you, but I knew your name. I was asking you how you prefer to be addressed.” His face was momentarily more serious than they had seen it yet, creases appearing between his brows as his smile dropped away. The effect did last long. As they studied him, the grin started to creep back onto his face. He reminded Meeka of a dog that is always happy to see you, after being apart for a moment.

Distracted by his smile, it took them a long time to process their words. Thinking back, that had been what he had said. They had been so shocked by the entire situation that they had simply assumed he was poking fun at them. Or, maybe it wasn’t the shock, but rather the fact that they weren’t used to such kindness. “Master Meeka Moreau,” they said, extending a hand to the handsome Captain. Lowering their voice, they looked about out of habit. “They, them, their.”

The boyish smile widened as he took the proffered hand. “Captain Reginald Archibald Hercule Southerford the Third,” he whispered. “He, him, his.” He took their hand, kissing the knuckles gently. The blush of their cheeks felt as though it covered their entire face. “But you may call me Herc. And, we probably don’t need to whisper. If there is a single person in this dinning hall who hasn’t seen you in this completely captivating gown, then they are blind, to be sure.”

Blush ran from their knuckles to their ears. Was this really happening? They had never gotten so much as an affectionate glance, before today, and now a man was not only being flirtatious, but was doing so in front of the entire dining hall! With a gulp, they suppressed the urge to run, attempting to speak instead. “Th-thank you. It’s new.”

Herc chuckled. “Shy and quiet. But, from our earlier encounter, I take it that’s not all that you’re made of. Bit of fire and brimstone, I’d imagine?”

Meeka took back their hand, replacing it to their lap, fire burning throughout their core. “You don’t stop, do you?”

“And why should I when in the presence of such beauty?”

Before Meeka could respond, another guest at the table began asking the Captain questions and, soon after, Meeka was engaged in a conversation of their own. In fact, they did not speak more than a few words to the handsome Captain throughout the dinner. However, every light brush of a hand or sideways glance sent sparks of joy throughout Meeka’s frame.

At the end of dinner, the men were invited to adjourn to the smoking lounge, while the women retired to the parlor of cards. Meeka, feeling lost and having no real connection to either party began to make their fair wells and depart. But it was a silky voice that stopped them. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

They turned to see that disarming smile they were already falling for. “I am. I have no head for cards and have no desire to smoke. So, I am to bed.”

“Oh, do please join us. You won’t be the only one not smoking, I assure you.”

“But…” They looked around, their nerves getting the better of them and whispering. “It’s for men. And I am—“ they gestured to their garb, “not a man.”

“Yes, but you are also not a woman. And the rules are as dated as the old men who made them. Besides, I have a proposition I wish to discuss with you.”

He offered Meeka his arm and they took it, a small thrill running through them. He escorted them to the two armchairs in the smoking lounge without continuing the conversation. Meeka was trying hard to ignore the stares of some of the men in the room. They decided they should make themself talk to keep them from concentrating on them. “I believe you mentioned a proposition. Do you care to elaborate?” Meeka questioned in with a raised brow.

“Yes. I do wish to state, before I begin, that you are the most captivating individual I have had the fortune of gazing upon.” He paused, smiling softly at them. A blush dusted Meeka’s cheek in an instant.

I wish I brought my fan, they thought. Herc inched his chair closer to them and cleared his throat.

“I hope… I hope you will forgive me for what I am about to relay. I could not bear it if you were angry with me.” His downcast eyes and sorrowful look made Meeka think he may actually mean those words, however, they felt their chest tighten all the same. He continued, “All airships have been ordered back to port. Word on the wire is that all ships are being searched for someone.”

Meeka felt the color drain from their face. They hadn’t made it to freedom after all. The ship was going to return to the city. Perhaps they had already turned around. He was going to find them. It didn’t matter how far they ran. Their father would always find them.

They made to stand, wanting nothing more than to flee the sense of oppressing futility. As they stood, they felt light headed and wobbled on their feet, only to have Herc put a gentle hand on their arm to steady them. “Stay, please. I have more to relate,” he begged them.

Every fiber of their being fought it, but something about the soothing nature of the captain’s voice encouraged them to sit back down. Unconsciously, they gripped the armchair a bit more tightly. They whispered, “I knew I should have used a fake name.”

They felt warm, comforting hands on theirs. The hands were large and slightly calloused, but had a softness to them. The hands of someone who knew hard work but still did their best to care for themselves. They looked up into the deep brown, caring eyes of the Captain. “Please be calm. Just breathe. I have a way out of this— if you’re willing to trust me?”

Meeka took several deep breaths before they were able to respond. “Do I have much of a choice?”

Herc chuckled. “You always have a choice with me. I would never force you into anything.” His hand closed a little more tightly around theirs. “The word is that they are looking for a thief that stole from a High Western Lord. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Meeka’s face flushed with anger. “It’s my inheritance! He has no right to—“

The handsome officer shushed them, looking around at the inquiring eyes that were now peering from about the room. “Hush, gorgeous. We don’t want to draw the wrong kind of attention.” Meeka gulped down their rage as Herc continued. “Am I right in thinking that you have reached the Age of Discerning?”

They nodded, holding onto the warm hand of the Captain like a lifeline. “Yes—“

“Then the inheritance is yours! All we need to do is prove—“

“—There’s an Alliance Clause.”

Herc was suddenly very quiet and stone faced. He sat back in the chair and stared at Meeka as if they had said that they were dying of an incurable disease. “Obligatory or Amorous?”

Meeka felt hot and slightly weak as they said the words. “Obligatory. My Fourth Cousin, Amiliea. Our marriage has been arranged since birth. The wedding is in three days.”

“That is an unforeseen complication. Is there a possibility of a loophole?” Herc slumped in his chair.

“My family has a reputation for iron clad contracts. Unfortunately, I have been unable to view the actual document. They have kept it under lock and key all these years.”

“That’s quite unfair to you; a document dictating your life, which you cannot even view. They will be desperate to get you back.”

“I understand your retitsence in helping a fugitive. I shall be awaiting my fate in my room.” Meeka made to stand and escape to their room. The icy feeling of dread had spread through their chest and they wanted to be alone with their fear before it overwhelmed them, completely.

Herc gently took their hand in his once more, instantly easing some of Meeka’s building tension. “Let me tell you of my plan, first. I have scrubbed the passenger lists of your name. You currently do not exist aboard this ship. I sent my trusted valet to help Ms. Smithe to pack your belongings. Do you need to retrieve anything particular before you leave the ship,” he inquired, while still holding their hand. The contact made it somewhat difficult to focus on what the dashing Captain was saying.

“No, my trunk has all the necessities in it. I’m sure Ms. Smithe is more than capable of packing the rest.” Meeka managed to speak steadily through the haze of feelings currently swirling about their mind. The pleasant nature of the light touch from the Captain was juxtaposed quite rudely with the desperate worry that they would never be free to enjoy such a sensation ever again.

“I am incredibly sorry to have to leave you so soon. I have made arrangements for you, if that is acceptable,” he genuinely pleaded with them.

“What are the plans?” Meeka had to struggle to remind themselves the task at hand.

“That would be helpful to know,” he chuckled lightly. “I have my pleasure craft docked in one of the bays on board. It’s quite small, so your journey will not be as comfortable, but it also should be able to depart without being noticed— if you leave soon, that is. I have enlisted my valet, James, to pilot for you. I believe that two of you have already met?” Meeka’s lips merely tightened at the memory of the rude, but oddly personable messenger from before. “He is quite a good navigator, so your safety is assured. If you would like I could join you at your destination in a few days time?”

Meeka didn’t respond. Their mind was bouncing about uncontrollably from bad to worse scenarios. The only thing grounding them was the warm hand of the man across from them. This man they didn’t know. This man they had met only hours before, and spoken to for no more than thirty minutes.

“Please,” the Captain finally said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

They took a deep breath before looking around and lowering their voice. “Why are you helping me? I’m a stranger to you. How can I trust you? I don’t even know if our flirtation is real or simply because, to you, I am an oddity. So, please, tell me: what does helping me do for you?”

Herc closed his eyes as if deep in thought, dropping their hand enough to tidy his long mane of perfectly crafted braids. After a moment, he stood, extending a hand to them. “The moon must have risen by now. Will you join me on the observation deck?”

With some hesitation, Meeka took the man’s hand and followed him to the staircase. The view in the glass dome was, indeed, breathtaking. The sky spilled around on all sides, an inky black canvas dotted with thousands upon thousands of stars. The view would have been incredibly romantic, were it not for the crushing weight of worry resting on Meeka’s chest. “Herc,” they pleaded quietly, “help me trust you.”

(Chapter to be Continued...)