the New World, and they were displayed on pedestals around the room. Noblemen and women wandered about, pointing at and cooing over various things. The Inuit delegates politely toured the display, nodding when each item was presented to them.
But when Akna arrived with her head held high and her hand threaded through the crook of Sir John Frederick’s arm, all eyes were on them. She was dressed in the blue-and-silver silk dress that John had had made for her, and she radiated the confidence and regal air of a Northern princess. As they walked across the room arm in arm to join the delegation, they left a chorus of whispers in their wake, some admiring and others jealous. The pair ignored them all. They paused to curtsy and bow before the king, who greeted them warmly.
“Welcome,” King George boomed proudly. “Please enjoy this last gift.”
Akna inclined her head politely and turned to survey the exhibit. Her smile was stiff, but she relaxed as John gave her hand a squeeze and led her away. The pieces that had been put on display were not particularly interesting to her, as each were simple tools or items for everyday use: a tobacco pipe, a sealskin coat, a hunting spear. But when she saw how the aristocrats looked at each item with giggles and puzzlement, she understood. This was a museum, and she was part of the display.
Over the past week, John and Akna had felt a chasm grow between them. Neither felt inclined to address Akna’s impending departure, each unsure of how to broach the topic. For her part, Akna wondered if there was any way to prolong her time with John, to see if there was any possibility of lasting love between them. They had spent much time together, and yet she still wasn’t sure if he truly reciprocated her feelings. It was obvious that he was attracted to her; it was even obvious that he cared for her deeply—but did he care enough?
Meanwhile, John did not want to scare the young woman away. More than just lust and affection was budding in his heart, but he’d told her too much of his past life, and he feared that she would never believe him when he made his feelings clear to her. He wanted her to stay—or he wanted to go back with her to see the New World through her eyes. But she, too, had guarded her true intentions well; perhaps he was just a passing fling to her.
A commotion at one end of the hall drew Akna’s attention. A group of nobles were crowded around a corner of the room, their awestruck gasps loud in the echoing hall. Raising her brows at John, they made their way over, both curious at what could have garnered so much attention. As they drew near, the sounds of growling and snapping jaws became clear. Alarmed, Akna pushed forward quickly, skipping ahead of John. When she reached the front of the crowd, she stopped dead still, her jaw dropping and her eyes filling with angry tears.
Three arctic wolves paced the length of a small cage, their teeth bared in anger and fear.
But these were not the majestic wolves she had grown accustomed to seeing against the horizon. No, these wolves were half-starved, their white fur mottled and patchy, and spittle was frothing at their dark gums. They snarled and snapped at their audience, their regal beauty reduced to a shadow of what it had once been.
They were nothing more than caged beasts, a cheap thrill for bored aristocrats.
Akna’s stomach felt like lead. Just like these poor animals, she was on display—a novelty to be admired. They might not have caged her with steel, but they had caged her nonetheless with their condescension. Would these people ever stop, she wondered to herself in a daze. Would they ever be able to see others as equals and not as beasts to be tamed and civilised?
It was an icy, self-satisfied voice that finally broke her out of her angry haze.
“Appropriate, don’t you think?” Lady Georgina Leake said snidely, coming alongside her. “All savages should be caged in such a way.”
The fog clouding
But when Akna arrived with her head held high and her hand threaded through the crook of Sir John Frederick’s arm, all eyes were on them. She was dressed in the blue-and-silver silk dress that John had had made for her, and she radiated the confidence and regal air of a Northern princess. As they walked across the room arm in arm to join the delegation, they left a chorus of whispers in their wake, some admiring and others jealous. The pair ignored them all. They paused to curtsy and bow before the king, who greeted them warmly.
“Welcome,” King George boomed proudly. “Please enjoy this last gift.”
Akna inclined her head politely and turned to survey the exhibit. Her smile was stiff, but she relaxed as John gave her hand a squeeze and led her away. The pieces that had been put on display were not particularly interesting to her, as each were simple tools or items for everyday use: a tobacco pipe, a sealskin coat, a hunting spear. But when she saw how the aristocrats looked at each item with giggles and puzzlement, she understood. This was a museum, and she was part of the display.
Over the past week, John and Akna had felt a chasm grow between them. Neither felt inclined to address Akna’s impending departure, each unsure of how to broach the topic. For her part, Akna wondered if there was any way to prolong her time with John, to see if there was any possibility of lasting love between them. They had spent much time together, and yet she still wasn’t sure if he truly reciprocated her feelings. It was obvious that he was attracted to her; it was even obvious that he cared for her deeply—but did he care enough?
Meanwhile, John did not want to scare the young woman away. More than just lust and affection was budding in his heart, but he’d told her too much of his past life, and he feared that she would never believe him when he made his feelings clear to her. He wanted her to stay—or he wanted to go back with her to see the New World through her eyes. But she, too, had guarded her true intentions well; perhaps he was just a passing fling to her.
A commotion at one end of the hall drew Akna’s attention. A group of nobles were crowded around a corner of the room, their awestruck gasps loud in the echoing hall. Raising her brows at John, they made their way over, both curious at what could have garnered so much attention. As they drew near, the sounds of growling and snapping jaws became clear. Alarmed, Akna pushed forward quickly, skipping ahead of John. When she reached the front of the crowd, she stopped dead still, her jaw dropping and her eyes filling with angry tears.
Three arctic wolves paced the length of a small cage, their teeth bared in anger and fear.
But these were not the majestic wolves she had grown accustomed to seeing against the horizon. No, these wolves were half-starved, their white fur mottled and patchy, and spittle was frothing at their dark gums. They snarled and snapped at their audience, their regal beauty reduced to a shadow of what it had once been.
They were nothing more than caged beasts, a cheap thrill for bored aristocrats.
Akna’s stomach felt like lead. Just like these poor animals, she was on display—a novelty to be admired. They might not have caged her with steel, but they had caged her nonetheless with their condescension. Would these people ever stop, she wondered to herself in a daze. Would they ever be able to see others as equals and not as beasts to be tamed and civilised?
It was an icy, self-satisfied voice that finally broke her out of her angry haze.
“Appropriate, don’t you think?” Lady Georgina Leake said snidely, coming alongside her. “All savages should be caged in such a way.”
The fog clouding
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