Note: You may have noticed these are not in linear order. I'm writing these as inspiration comes.
The Mark burns on her hand like that time she accidentally touched one of Anton Sokolov's whirring, red-hot machines as a too-curious girl. It fades as she releases the energy she'd somehow built up in a way she can't really describe.
But she can't practice on the Wale, not after that first time. Emily had awoken from her encounter with the Outsider, the Mark a dark brand on her hand, when the sun was still below the horizon. Thinking Megan would be in her berth, asleep, she hadn't waited for the relative privacy of a city rooftop to try out her new skills.
The ability to will herself high on an edge with a thought was exhilarating beyond her expectations. A climb like that would have taken several long minutes, fraught with the tension of slipping on sea-spray, but now she sat on the top of the Wale, every nerve singing the strange song of the Outsider's Mark. The feeling dwindles, like the fading of a song, and she wonders idly what this will mean for her when this is all over, when she has ousted Delilah and rescued her father.
She'll have to hide it. Emily looks at the mark on her hand, remembering her father's old excuse for keeping his hand covered-"burn scars," he'd always said. I guess I'll have to come up with something too, she thinks.
She wills—reaches herself down to the deck, rising from a crouch only to stare into the startled dark eyes of Megan Foster. Emily holds her breath, a million excuses flying through her mind, all useless. She wonders what Megan's reaction will be: disgust? Terror? Megan didn't seem like the devout type, but would she make Emily leave the Wale or turn Emily over to the nearest Overseer?
Unexpectedly, Megan's expression softens, a flicker of some other emotion passing over her face so quickly Emily cannot identify it.
"I see," is all she says, then turns and walks in the other direction.
Emily exhales a stream of curse words that her court would be shocked that she even knew. She should follow Megan, clear the air, explain... what? How does one "explain" the Outsider? I may as well try to explain why rain is wet, she thinks, frustrated.
Instead, she retreats to the bowels of the ship, practices shooting rats with her crossbow and then takes tea and breakfast in her cabin when her hunger growls too loudly to ingore.
When Megan shows up later to confer about the day's plans, she doesn't mention the Mark, or even look at Emily sideways, as if earlier had never happened. Emily knows then, that's how it will be from now on. Known but never acknowledged.
Emily prefers it that way; it makes one less complication for her. The task ahead of her is onerous enough with worrying about Megan too.
But it also makes her feel oddly lonely. For a brief moment, she'd shared the biggest secret of her life with someone.
Grow up Emily, she tells herself. You were already Empress, and Megan has made it clear that she has little use for nobility. You want a friend? Too bad: an empress doesn't have friends. She remembers Alexi, then, her friend since they were both children, bleeding out in her arms, and wants to weep.
Megan's eyes flick to hers, then away. Emily straightens. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be distracted. Continue with what you were saying. I'm listening."