I stood at the bow, watching the sea foam whiten as it was struck by the ship's hull. I had exchanged the stolen officer's uniform for a coarse cotton shirt belonging to Elena's crew, yet the weight on my shoulders felt heavier than any gold epaulette.
I heard light footsteps behind me. Without even turning, I knew it was her. The faint scent of jasmine—the only thing remaining from the luxuries of Batavia—always preceded her.
"Can't you sleep, Young Master?" Kartika's voice sounded calm, but I caught a tremor of exhaustion there.
"Don't call me that, Kartika," I replied, turning around. "Here, I am not your master. I am just a man trying to fix the ruin my family created."
I looked at her intently. Kartika no longer bowed her head as she did in the palace. Her eyes met mine directly, brave and sharp. "You risked your life to send that message to Buitenzorg. Why? You could have stayed silent and let Friedrich win."
Julian looked at me with a gaze I had never seen before—the look of a man who had lost his world but found his soul. I tightened my shawl to ward off the piercing sea wind.
"Because I have been silent for too long, Julian," I answered softly. "My father died trying to be an honest man under Friedrich's feet. I stayed in that palace only to wait for a moment like this. A moment where Van de Berg blood itself would tear down the walls of its arrogance."
I saw the hesitation in his eyes. Julian is a good man, but he is still too idealistic. He doesn't yet know how dirty our hands must get to win this war.
"You must be ready, Julian," I continued, stepping closer until I could see the reflection of the stars in his blue eyes. "When we reach Singapore, you are no longer a painter seeking inspiration. You are a weapon. And I will be the hand that ensures that weapon strikes his heart."
A Dangerous Silence
Julian fell silent for a moment, then slowly he placed his hand over mine on the ship's railing. His touch was warm, contrasting with the cold night air.
"Thank you, Kartika," he whispered. "Thank you for not letting me be a coward."
We stood there in a long silence, staring at the dark horizon. Inside the cabin, Anne Marie was writing a letter that would shake the Netherlands, and Adrian was sharpening his machete. But here, on this deck, Julian and I knew that the greatest secret we carried wasn't just about Friedrich's treason, but about the bond growing between two souls that were never meant to unite.
"Dawn will arrive soon," I said, slowly withdrawing my hand. "And at that moment, Batavia will begin to tremble."