Klara found Zin in the mainframe of Vera’s Revenge. Zin sat on top of the central structure, staring up at the shadowy bulk of the gas-filled sacks that kept the airship in the sky. The only source of light spilt from the hatch Klara had just climbed through.

  She eased herself down beside her friend and hunched her shoulders, shivering. The heavy canvas which was stretched over the mainframe shielded them from the snowy mountain wind but did little to keep the cold out. Or to mute the thunderous roar of the airship’s engines.

  “What happened between us?” Klara asked, her voice raised above the roar.

  Zin gave her a curious look. “You know exactly what happened.”

  “I don’t think I do.”

  “Ever since Sergei told you that you were going to Ledavsk you’ve been obsessed with proving you’re the best. It’s become like everyone else is a burden to you, just another obstacle in the way of your precious quest to reach Katavsk.”

  Klara opened her mouth.

  “Don’t you dare try and talk your way out of it,” Zin said. “You know I’m right.”

  “Yes, I do,” Klara said, scowling. “Now I’m trying to fix things.”

  “Ah huh. Trying to fix it. You mean by telling me my efforts to get Mikhail to Katavsk weren’t good enough?”

  “Oh come on. You said they’d only take him. What was the harm in asking Uncle Yuri?”

  “Technically no harm. We’re getting to Katavsk, so that’s the main thing I suppose. But that’s not the point, the point is you don’t trust me.”

  Klara studied her friend. The light from the hatch only lit half her face, leaving the left side in deep shadow. Despite the darkness, Klara could see the pain deep in Zin’s eyes.

  “I do trust you, Zin.”

  “You have a weird way of showing it.”

  Klara sighed and raked a hand through her hair. “I wanted to show Mikhail I was willing to help him. When I saw Uncle Yuri’s airship, I realised that was my chance. I’m sorry that meant ruining your plans.”

  Zin grunted and stared up at the giant sacks above them.

  The throb of the engines filled the air between them for a minute as Klara tried to make sense of the last few days. She’d barely had time to blink before her life had been split asunder. “One thing I don’t understand though: why are you going to such lengths to help Mikhail? When the council discovers it, they’ll come for you.”

  “You know,” Zin said, her voice barely audible above the engine, “when I joined the Warrior Guild, they told me that the only way I’d make it through training was if I was ruthless. ‘A Warrior’s only friend is themselves,’ they said.” Zin lapsed into silence.

  Klara waited, wondering where Zin was taking this.

  After a beat, Zin continued, “I had every intention of doing exactly that—being a cold, heartless killer. It suited me, it’s why Vor… my dad sent me to the Warrior Guild. But then you broke every tradition and helped me in my first fight. Why? Why me?”

  “The only reason I joined the Warrior Guild was as a stepping stone to the Sentinels,” Klara said. “I never agreed with the whole ‘you are the only one you can trust’ mantra they had going. You were going to lose, so I helped.”

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  Zin glanced at her. “I was tryin’ to give them a boost of self-confidence by losing.”

  “Right. That’s why we both had our butts handed to us.”

  “You threw my rhythm.”

  “What rhythm? You were flailing around like a newborn slavock.”

  Before Zin could retort, a snub-nosed woman poked her head through the hatch.

  “Captain says we land in half an hour. Gear up,” the woman said, then disappeared.

  “Well, you heard her,” Zin said, standing. “Time to go.” She lowered herself through the hatch and vanished, leaving Klara alone.

  Klara scrunched her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. She couldn’t help but feel that the entire conversation had just gone in circles. Nothing had been resolved. Perhaps if they survived the next few hours she could wrangle some real answers out of Zin.

  ***

  In Vera’s Revenge’s hold, Klara sorted through the—definitely smuggled—array of weapons. She picked up a knife and hefted it, assessing the blade’s balance. The short weapon felt right in her hand. A few swings confirmed the weapon’s quality. Klara returned it to its scabbard and strapped it to her waist.

  “Knife, hey? Just like your father,” Yuri said, stopping beside her.

  Klara nodded as she also strapped a sword to her side and faced him. Zin and Mikhail stood a short way off, also choosing weapons. Yuri had insisted they didn’t enter Katavsk empty handed—even if only for appearance sake.

  “They told me knives were useless,” Klara said, “but I’m still most comfortable with them.”

  Yuri gave her a wry smile. “You know, Sergei used to hate knives. Until Vera told him only real men knew how to use such elegant, yet personal, weapons.”

  Klara snorted, then asked, “Why did you really help us?”

  “I recall someone threatening to blackmail me.”

  “Well, yes,” Klara said, flushing. “But you knew I was bluffing about telling Father.”

  Yuri’s eyes sparkled. “Sure I did. But I weren’t about to stop you after you finally pulled your head out and decided to actually help someone else.”

  Klara shot him a withering glare, which only seemed to encourage him, and a grin split his face.

  “Besides,” he said, “your father ‘asked’ me to fly all this way, so I might as well make a stop at Katavsk and offload a few coats. Vera ain’t a cheap ship to fly. Gotta buy gas somehow. And these lazy slobs who call themselves Air Traders demand wages, too.” He glowered at a crewman who had just stepped into the hold. The man caught the glare and mild panic spread over his face as he turned and hurried back up the stairs.

  Yuri gripped Klara’s arm, concern in his eyes. “Look, I don’t care about you bein’ dishonourably discharged. There’ll always be a place for you here.”

  Surprised, Klara found her eyes burning, and she looked down, checking her weapons were seated comfortably. For some reason, his comment hurt far more than when Kozlowek had pronounced her sentence. That had been surreal, a dream. This? This was real. There could be no denying it, no turning back now. If the Sentinels caught them, death would be the easy out.

  “You did a good thing in there,” Yuri continued. “It takes a real soldier to put others before themselves. Mikhail is lucky to have you as a sister.”

  Lucky… Klara locked eyes with Yuri. “Luck never played a part. We’re here because of choices, and we’ll die because of choices—good or bad.”

  Yuri shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “We’re ready to land, Captain,” the snub-nosed woman from earlier said, appearing from the stairwell.

  “Good. I’ll be right up, Alyona. Tell Pavel to hold her steady.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alyona said and disappeared.

  Yuri turned back to Klara. “I don’t like Sergei, he’s an insufferable stickler for rules. But Vera loved him, and that’s good enough. Point is, love it or hate it, he’s family. My brother—in a sense. And I’ll be cursed to the depths before I let anyone wrong him.” With that, Yuri strode from the hold.

  Klara watched him go, then regarded Mikhail. Her brother—in a sense. He appeared ill at ease with the sword around his waist, but when he caught her staring at him, he offered a half-smile and a thumbs up.

  She returned the thumbs up, bemused by the irony that in the end, it was Mikhail who at last had got her to Katavsk.