My joy dimmed slightly, but I refused to let it fade entirely. My father was free. That was what mattered.
"This calls for a damn celebration," Tor declared, clapping a massive hand on my shoulder.
Within an hour, the entire crew had assembled in the galley. Tor disappeared briefly into his quarters, returning with several unmarked bottles filled with clear liquid that looked innocent but smelled potent enough to strip paint.
"Black Kessel. My special reserve," he announced proudly, pouring generous measures into mismatched cups. "Made it myself."
I accepted a cup cautiously, eyeing the liquid with suspicion. "Never heard of it. What's in this exactly?"
Tor's smile was enigmatic. "Trade secret. Just drink it before you smell it too much."
I took a small sip and immediately regretted it as liquid fire seared down my throat. Coughing and sputtering, I glared at Tor through watering eyes. "Are you trying to kill me?"
"The second sip goes down easier," he promised, tipping back his own cup without so much as a flinch. Omri laughed from the corner table, also swallowing his in one gulp.
He was right, somewhat. The second sip burned less, and by the third, a pleasant warmth had begun spreading through my limbs.
Zoya appeared with a slender wooden instrument that resembled a flute but with more holes and an intricate pattern carved into its surface. She settled onto a crate and began to play, her fingers dancing over the holes.
"Sandaurian folk music," Knives explained, noticing my surprise. "Songs of hope."
Jask pulled Kora to her feet, guiding her into a dance that involved a lot of spinning and footwork I couldn't follow. She laughed as she stumbled, her cheeks flushed and her red hair wild.
Knives refilled my cup despite my weak protests. "It's disgustingly sweet isn't it?"
I watched them twirl around the limited space, narrowly avoiding collisions with the table and walls. Kora's joy was infectious, and I found myself smiling so hard my cheeks hurt.
Even Cypher seemed affected. He leaned against the doorframe, the ever-present tension in his shoulders noticeably diminished. When our eyes met across the room, he raised his cup in a silent toast. I returned the gesture, warmth that had nothing to do with Tor'skesseldrink flooding through me.
"I challenge you, Juno Farren," Tor announced, settling onto the bench beside me. He produced a small leather pouch from his pocket and emptied its contents onto the table—a dozen glass marbles in various colors and sizes.
"What's this?" I asked as he arranged them in a pattern that made no sense to me.
"Knuckler," he replied. "Old terra game. The object is to move your marbles to trap mine." He demonstrated, rolling one marble with surprising precision to knock another out of the pattern.
It looked simple enough. It wasn't.
My first attempt sent marbles scattering in all directions, several rolling off the table entirely. Tor retrieved them patiently, setting the game up again. My second try was no better.
"You're cheating," I said after my fifth consecutive loss. "You're using terra magic to control the glass."
Tor's laughter rumbled deep in his chest. "Don't need magic to beat a beginner."
"Prove it. Play with your hands behind your back."
To my surprise, he did exactly that, andstillwon.
"Told you," he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Been playing since I was a boy."
The celebration continued well into the night. Zoya's music grew livelier as more Black Kessel was consumed. Jask taught simple dance steps to anyone willing to learn, which eventually included everyone except Cypher, who steadfastly refused despite Kora's persistent cajoling.
I found myself sitting beside Vic, watching the impromptu dance lesson with amusement.
"Thank you," I said, leaning against his shoulder. "For everything. For helping with my father's case."
He smiled, running a hand over his floppy hair. "You're crew now, Juno. We take care of our own."
Crew. The thought made something in my chest feel oddly warm. Or maybe it was just the drink.
