When Alek emerges from the Leviathan's jury-rigged wireless room (a necessity, now that they are traveling with American Clanker airships), he is thoroughly irritated with reporters, wireless communication, Count Volger's insistence that he answer certain questions on his own behalf, and the fact that he has missed dinner in order to satisfy Eddie Malone's curiosity.

Some of that ire fades, however, upon finding Deryn standing in the hallway. Hands in her pockets. Leaning a shoulder against the thin, fabricated balsa wall. Nonchalant. Waiting for him.

"Done with that bum-rag?" she says.

Alek nods, briefly making a face. "How can someone be so tiresome from halfway across an ocean?"

Deryn snorts and pushes off the wall. "Aye, it's a talent. Come on – I saved you some food."

He regards her for a moment, limned as she is by the green wormlight of the hallway's lanterns. The warm certainty that has settled in his chest since New York glows brighter. Of course she kept back dinner for him.

"Thank you, Mr. Sharp," he says, to remind himself that he can't take her hand or – God's wounds – kiss her. Though he would rather like to.

"Any time, your princeliness," Deryn says cheerfully. "Mr. Hohenberg, that is."

Alek smiles, his annoyance at the world entirely washed away, and falls in next to her as she begins walking down the hallway towards his stateroom. "At least now that I've renounced my titles, I shall never have to talk to another reporter."

She snorts again. "Not sodding likely. I mean – you're a prince that quit to be a zookeeper, aye? Until they know why, they'll never let you alone."

This is true. In point of fact, Malone had asked him why several times. Alek had declined to answer directly.

He looks at the extraordinary girl beside him, and wonders if anyone could truly understand his choice without first knowing Deryn Sharp – all of her, not only the face she shows to the world. Her secrets, her fears, her joys. The worn-smooth edges on her father's medal.

He says (perhaps a touch arrogantly), "They hardly deserve the honor."

Deryn slides him a sideways look, blue eyes clever and dangerous. "What was that Latin blether you told Malone, then?"

Oh. So she'd overheard. Well, not surprising; the walls are thin.

He clears his throat. "The Hapsburg motto. 'Let others wage war.' You know that."

"Not that part. The other bit."

He stops walking, and she stops as well, turning to face him.

"Something about Austria being happy, isn't it?" Deryn asks, though the smirk on her face tells him she knows very well.

Blast. Alek feels his face and ears heating. He's not embarrassed, exactly; it's only that he hadn't thought to broach this topic for quite a while yet. Two days hardly seems a long enough courtship for talk of this sort.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose." Alek takes a fortifying breath. " 'You, lucky Austria, shall marry.' "

The final word hangs in the air, or maybe that's only his perception. Deryn makes no response for a moment: merely holds him fast with that smirking gaze.

Then she looks over her shoulder, checking the empty hallway, before leaning down and kissing him full on the mouth.

It's soft and electrik and over rather sooner than he would like. But it is also a promise – an unspoken answer to an unspoken question – and he finds himself grinning like a perfect fool as they part.

Lucky, indeed.

Deryn grins widely as well – though she also takes a half-step away and self-consciously coughs into one fist. It's difficult to tell in the dim light, but he's fairly certain that she's blushing. Good; he should hate to be the only one.

"You said that you had rescued my dinner," Alek says, returning them to a less perilous conversation.

"Aye, if Bovril hasn't eaten it all by now. There were strawberries." She tugs her jacket straight. "Ready, Mr. Hohenberg?"

"Of course, Mr. Sharp," he says, sketching a shallow bow.

She grins again; he takes his place beside her; and they continue on as they've begun.

.

.

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Note: A felix culpa ("fortunate fall") is a bad event, or a series of bad events, that leads to a happy outcome.