Page 30 of The Space Between Stars

Fankalo aimed her fist at the railing. Her arm was already fatigued by the weight of the leather and metal. As the tanka started to wobble, she used her left hand to clutch her right wrist, earning herself a momentary measure of stability. Both arms started to shake.

“Oh, and don’t hurt yourself on my watch. I can’t even imagine the kretch they’ll put me through for that.”

Determined, she tucked her fingers forward to the sound of stretched leather. A bit released. The weapon’s snapping kickback was not particularly forceful, but it was so unexpected that she fell backwards. Mitek held his sides in a fit of laughter.

Fankalo blinked, frantically searching for where the bit had landed to find that it embedded itself into the deck a man’s distance from her. Her face grew hot.

She pushed herself off the planks amidst Mitek’s cackles, slugging the tanka back into place. “At least it wasn’t a ballsack.”

Lifting her arm again, she looked through the circular guide and fired at the bottle in the middle.

Again.

Four more times.

Each bit must have cleared her target by an arm’s length at least. She could have sworn one veered toward the sun, a half-swing in the opposite direction. She frowned.

“Not easy. You’ll have to practice for ages to get any good, like me,” Mitek said. His laughter had subsided, but one corner of his mouth still twisted into a smirk.

Fankalo ignored him and reset seven bits into the groove. “Did I do that correctly?”

“Yeah, at least you didn’t mess that part up.”

She aimed for the bottles again, but waited this time, reaching out to her Luck. The magic was there any time she went looking for it—which was when she stopped thinking about anything else. Before coming aboard the Rogue’s Respite, she had ignored it. Now things were different.

When she’d hidden her Luck like Mother told her to, she had stayed invisible in a shanty. But when she used it, people thought she was important. Using her powers got her whatever she wanted, like books: books on war, on sailing, on science—not just the same stupid stories. Maybe the better she got with Luck, the more important she would be.

Her father’s falcon, Killari, chose that moment to swing in from the sky and perch on the crate beside them. Fankalo had taken quickly to her, a creature possessed by a spirit of dash and daring seemingly too grand for one small bird. And Killari had taken quickly to Fankalo’s Luck, it appeared.

“Oh—ho, Killari,” Mitek said, voice touched with excitement. “She usually doesn’t like anyone besides the captain. Nearly bit my fingers off once.”

The falcon hopped onto the boy’s shoulder, and he flinched but beamed. “Look here! She’s—”

Killari turned, defecated down his tunic, and took flight again.

Mitek’s face soured. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a more worthy target for tanka practice.” He held out a hand. “Give it back here.”

“Not yet!”

Fankalo moved her arm around in small, sweeping circles, thinking about hitting the bottle. At some angles, the Luck caught like wind in the ship’s sails. At others, it fell flat. Experimentally, she turned and aimed her arm at the hatch—

Definitely not lucky.

Mitek opened his mouth in alarm. Before he could say anything, she spun back to face the bow, listening. When she felt like her Luck pulled strongest, her skin prickled with warmth. She flexed her fingers.

A heartbeat later, she was rewarded with the sound of tinkling glass. Green shards of bottle cascaded against the deck and into the sea.

“Bite me,” Mitek said, with a hand clapped over his hat.

Fankalo grinned. Her Luck thrilled through her as she lined up her arm with the next bottle. Flex. Crash.

And again.

Flex. Crash.

And again.

“How in Chaos are you doing that?!” Mitek’s despair was music to her ears.