Page 8

At the bottom of the metal stairs, she paused, trying to push down the dizziness. She took a deep breath. The climb stretched above her like a punishment, and every step clanged beneath her boots, reverberating through her skull.

She was not the only traveller. Others jostled past, impatience etched onto their features: a merchant with a crate full of canisters, a sharp-eyed woman carrying a cage filled with fluttering shadowmoths, and a boy with scorch marks on his hands, hauling a sealed trunk.

At the top, the airship loomed like a chimera. Scarred metal bands wrapped the hull tight enough to make the airship resemble a stitched wound. Pipes wound around its body like the veins of some strange beast, and the white balloon overhead strained against its ropes. The single propeller at the stern creaked, and a great canvas sail hung beneath like a fin to guide its flight.

A lone pirate leaned against a support beam near the boarding plank, arms crossed, one boot perched lazily atop the other. His ivory skin gleamed in the misty light, and a smirk played on his lips as his gaze slid over her.

“My,” he drawled, tipping his cap up. “What’s a pretty little shadow like you doing up here?”

Idonea’s throat closed. She knew what had to be done, and she’d hoped to keep her mark hidden forever. But Nellith had told her: if you ever need passage from those who fly beneath the banner of no nation, show them who you are. They will know.

“Ain’t got all day,” he prompted. An acrid mixture of grease and smoke surrounded him.

Her dagger was already in her hand. A single prick of her middle finger, and red blood welled. She touched it to the skin of her wrist, and the ink responded.

The vine tattoo that curled around her wrist bloomed, lotuses unfurling one by one until the dragon revealed itself, a sleeping wyrm, delicate and deadly, its form intertwined with her veins. She had the flowers added on her nineteenth birthday. Nellith disapproved, but Idonea loved it.

The pirate stood upright, every ounce of swagger fading. His throat bobbed.

“On board,” he said.

She passed him with a tilt of her lips, dragging her sleeve back down as the dragon faded. Lance hovered nearby, keeping out of sight. He wouldn’t be safe for long in the open air.

The hum of heat struck her immediately. She must be close to the boiler room. The scent of scorched oil and old rust clung to the air like mildew, and she made her way towards the centre of the deck, away from the railing, away from the open sky.

It didn’t take long for the same pirate to sidle up to her. “So,” he said, “a Riven, eh?" He glanced down at her scars. "Captain’ll want a word.”

Rivens couldn't hide. Their scars showed.

Idonea cast a glance upward, where storm clouds clawed at the sky. If they weren’t careful, they’d fly straight to their deaths. But there was no other route, and she needed to get to the Republic, even if it meant walking into the wyrm’s nest.

“I require quarters with a viewport.” She needed to smuggle Lance on board.

“But of course,” he replied.

She scanned the crowd of passengers, but saw nothing of concern.

“Are you the first mate?” she asked.

The pirate smirked. “Name’s Kerem.”

She offered a thin smile, wondering whether he'd any idea just how lethal she truly was.

Kerem led her inside the hull down two narrow staircases, past pipes that hissed with pressure. He stopped at a modest cabin door.

“You lodge here. I’ll be beside you.”

“Thank you,” she said, making a note to bar her door while she slept. “And the captain?”

He flashed a grin. His teeth were yellowing. “You’ll join Safira for supper. Keep our skies clear. No one wants a storm.”

“Of course.” Idonea knew they’d demand her abilities in payment for her voyage.

She entered her quarters and shut the door fast behind her. The bed was little more than a cot, a chipped washbasin in one corner, and a tiny viewport that let in the light.

She unlatched it, and Lance darted inside before the wind could slam it shut again. He curled under the cot to hide.

Before kneeling, she gathered a bowl, bird feather, water, piece of cloth, and black thread from her satchel. Sky Currents were thinner, easier to shape, but harder to hold. Idonea poured the water into the bowl and laid the feather and cloth across its surface to form a cross.