Once the sunken ship set sail, Olive Abroholos Elephanta's jobs piled up. She had to boil the salt out of the water so the children could drink. Then she had to cook their first dinner of greasy fish and seaweed in a bubbling pot. The children needed dry clothes (check), dry bedding (check), and the engine room needed to be periodically surveyed for any dying embers (check). As she ran from room to room, drying threadbare blankets with her flames and chasing down the twins with hot tea, she didn't have time to talk to Enoch.

Nor did she have time to do more than notice the sly grins and whispers the children made whenever she was around. They seemed to be hiding something. A new game, perhaps? Olive shook her head and grabbed another mug.

"Did he find any more skeletons?" Olive asked as she passed Emma on deck.

Emma sighed, her gaze far away.

"Emma?"

"Sorry," Emma said, shaking her head. "What was it?"

Jake had been gone for only a few hours, but his absence made the ship feel heavier. He wasn't coming back. Olive had never seen Emma so weighed down. The lead boots were no competition for her heart. "I asked if Enoch found more skeletons."

"Oh, I'm not sure," Emma said, turning back to the water. "I hope he does, though. We're going to need help keeping this ship going."

Olive nodded and retreated into the belly of the ship. After sunset, she made her rounds again, checking that each child was warm and sleepily tucked in their dilapidated beds. Claire insisted on a hug before bed, the mouth under her golden curls clacking its teeth together. The twins tossed and turned in synchronicity. Olive caught Hugh sitting on top of Fiona's bed, the two of them giggling as Hugh's bees crawled upon a sprout Fiona had somehow coaxed to life.

"Get to bed now," Olive said, as stern as she could sound without smiling.

Hugh grumbled but obeyed, dashing back into his own room.

"This flower needs pollenating," Fiona said, blushing, as she rose from her bed to tuck the flower in a pot by the porthole window. "Hugh was just helping me."

"I'm sure he was," Olive said, crossing her arms. They'd looked cozier than that. Well, now that they were out of the loop, they would all grow older. Perhaps Fiona and Hugh… well, anything was possible.

Fiona climbed back into bed and drew the sheets up to her chin. After Olive pressed a kiss to her forehead, the girl giggled. "Are you going kiss Enoch goodnight too?"

Olive's cheeks flamed. "H-He's a little old for that."

"But you really should return the favor," Fiona said.

"What favor?"

Fiona clapped her hands over mouth, her eyes shining. "You don't remember what happened at the theater? Not a thing?"

Olive wiggled her fingers, an alternative she had invented long ago to replace her old, dangerous habit of cracking her knuckles without gloves. "I caught the end of it, yes. I know how he feels."

"What about what he did?" Fiona asked.

"He saved my life," Olive said. "Stopped that wight from finishing me off."

Fiona sighed. "You better ask Enoch, then. Goodnight, Olive."

Olive was surprised to have been dismissed without an answer. But maybe she did need to see Enoch. I haven't seen him all evening and really, it's the least he can do to tell me.

Her shoes echoed on the wooden floorboards. All the rooms were quiet. She paused outside Enoch's door, smoothing down her dress and damp, red hair. "Enoch," she hissed, knocking softly. "Are you awake?"

The muffled response on the other side told her to come in.

Olive opened the door to find Enoch staring up at the broken ceiling, his hands behind his head and brow furrowed – in concentration or just brooding, she couldn't tell. He was still fully clothed in his sweater and pants, shoes kicked haphazardly off the bed.

A few skeletons were piled up in the corner of the room next to his suitcase full of hearts. "You found more," Olive said, grinning.

"They're not complete skeletons," Enoch said, frowning. "Missing legs, ribs, arms. I'll have to fix them up before I can reanimate them."

Olive drifted over to his bed and gingerly sat on the corner, folding her hands in her lap.

"Can't sleep?" Enoch asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Something like that," Olive said, growing nervous by the moment. The battle with the hollows had only happened hours ago, but it felt like years. She remembered how tightly he'd held her hand when they boarded the ship. As if he didn't want to let go. The memory gave her some strength. "I didn't hear everything you said in the theater. And it seems… as if I missed something terribly important."

Enoch stilled beside her. He seemed to be holding his breath.

Olive took that as a good sign. She stood up and smoothed her dress again. "How about we do it all over, from the top? That way I don't miss anything this time."

Enoch sat up and ran his hands through his hair. He looked frightened for a moment, but he quickly stuffed whatever emotions he had behind a mask of indifference. "All right," he murmured.

Olive's heart thumped. She lay down on the wood floor, careful to avoid the jagged edges of the wet, broken boards. Her eyes drifted closed and she remembered how it felt to have her body freeze over with that wight's touch.

It had begun as a chill, drying the sweat on her skin and making her teeth chatter. But the ice had spread faster than her fire ever could, crystalizing the blood in her veins. "I was like this," she said.

She heard the bed creak and saw the shadow of Enoch's form under her eyelids. He was hovering above her, one hand on her shoulder. "You were almost dead," he said gravely.

"It was more like being asleep," she said. Her mind had stopped working. Went dark. She couldn't move. The tiny flame deep within her, the very soul of her peculiarity, suffocated in her chest. Nothing but ashes and smoke. But the minute the wight had lost contact with her, the flame could breathe again. It gathered power within her and crawled through her veins, replacing cold death with a fiery rebirth.

"I told you how sorry I was that I took you for granted," Enoch said, a little shaky.

Olive opened her eyes, softly gasping when she realized just how close he was. Even in the candlelight, she could tell he was blushing. "And then?"

"Then…"

She shut her eyes, waiting for his next words, only to feel his breath on her face as he leaned closer. He smelled of blood, dirt, and seawater. His lips pressed against hers, too light to be real. He was there and then he was gone. Olive's eyes snapped open.

"You were there for the last part," he said, biting his lip.

"You kissed me," Olive whispered.

Enoch swallowed and nodded. "I-I thought you were…"

A bright, warm feeling curled through her bones. Her fingers, safe in their gloves, drifted up to brush against his cheek. "I'm right here."

Enoch scooped her up and crushed his lips to hers. He threaded his fingers in her hair, gently tugging.

The sensation created sparks under her scalp. Sizzles and tingles that made her sigh into his mouth. A different kind of warmth flowed through her, sweet and dangerous. She clung to his sweater, drawing him in closer, wishing she could feel the softness of his hair with her fingertips. She couldn't feel anything but the gloves on her skin, but her lips were a lot more sensitive than she thought. With each press and brush of his lips, a new wave of heat washed over her.

The sound of giggling slipped into her consciousness. They reluctantly let go of each other.

"Do you hear that?" Enoch said huskily. His chest rose and fell with each breath.

"I think we have an audience," Olive said, cracking a smile.

Neither of them had locked the door. Familiar faces peeked through opening, stifling giggles and whispers.

Enoch summoned his most surly frown and aimed it at the children.

They shrieked and dashed back to their rooms.

Enoch turned back to Olive and grabbed her hands. He looked down at them and then back at her. "Together, from now on?"

"Together," Olive agreed. She could get used to sharing her fire with the warmth of his affection.