“We could give it back.”
“Could we?” I stopped walking, turning to face her. “Could we really walk away from this? From the chance to save my dad?”
She met my eyes, and I saw the truth there. No. We couldn’t walk away. We’d come too far, needed this too much.
“Then we better spend this week getting ready,” she said. “Because if we’re sailing into the Deep Gallery with a captain who hates us, we’re going to need every advantage we can get.”
She was right. One week to prepare for a journey that would take us farther from home than we’d ever been, into dangers we could barely imagine.
Koraand I picked up our equipment from Gideon’s people—void mantles that were definitely not Assembly approved, climbing gear that felt sturdier than anything we’d owned, daggers with fire cores that warmed against my palm when Iheld them. We packed and repacked our bags, trying to balance necessity with Cypher’s demand that we pack light.
I usually took the risk and entered the Gallery without my mantle. They were heavy things, coats made from ground up anchor crystal and leather, protecting the traveler from the cold of the Gallery, and serving as a soft anchor should they lose their assigned crystal. Expensive, and only given to those with official portal travel approval from the Assembly.
It took us six months to save enough sovereigns for two black market mantles. The Shallows were safer than the Deep Gallery. There were more portals clustered together, creating more heat in the fabric between them, keeping out unsavory creatures or pirates who preyed on the vulnerable. We were going deeper than I ever imagined, so I wasn’t going to take any chances.
I spent every spare moment with my mom, helping her around the workshop, reading to her in the evenings, memorizing the sound of her voice. She didn’t cry again, but I saw the fear in her eyes every time she looked at me.
“I’ll come back,” I told her the night before we left. “I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love.”
“I can keep this one.”
She pulled me into a hug that smelled like her lavender soap and the medicinal tonic that kept her alive. “You come back to me, Junie.”
I held her tighter, wishing I could promise her more. Wishing I could promise her everything would be okay, that Father would come home, that we’d be a family again. But I’d learned not to make promises I couldn’t keep. I would be back. At the very least, I would be back.
The morning we left, Kora and I walked to the docks in silence. Our packs weighed heavy on our backs, filled with everything we’d need for weeks, maybe months, away fromhome. I’d left enough money with Mrs. Rigby, our neighbor, for mom’s tonics in case we were gone longer than expected. She was the only person I trusted with our money and mom’s wellbeing.
Click rode in my pack, his head poking out to watch the world passing by. The docks were busy despite the early hour, ships loading and unloading cargo, sailors calling to each other in the pre-dawn gloom. But even in the chaos, The Night-Piercer stood out.
She was beautiful. A wing ship three times the size of any vessel I’d been on, with brass fittings that gleamed even in the dim light. Her black wings were furled against her sides, the anchor-dusted sails that would catch the Gallery’s currents. The hull was painted midnight blue, the dark timber reinforced with metal plating, and I could see weapon ports along her sides. This wasn’t just a transport ship. This was a vessel built for survival in hostile territory.
Cypher stood on the deck, talking to a woman with short dark hair. He saw us approaching and said something to her. She glanced our way, then nodded and disappeared below deck.
“You’re late,” Cypher called down.
I checked the brass pocket watch my father had given me. “We’re five minutes early.”
“On my ship, if you’re not ten minutes early, you’re late.” He gestured to the gangplank. “Get aboard. Stow your gear in the cabin Zoya shows you, then report to the deck. We’ve got a lot to cover before we launch.”
We climbed aboard, our boots echoing on the wooden deck. Up close, The Night-Piercer was even more impressive, every surface maintained to perfection, every rope and line exactly where it should be. This was a ship run by someone who demanded excellence.
The dark-haired woman appeared from a hatch. “You must be Juno and Kora. I’m Zoya, ship’s navigator.” She had an easy smile and deep eyes that assessed us quickly. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be bunking.”
We followed her below deck, through passages lit by crystal lamps. The ship’s interior was organized and clean, a far cry from the cramped chaos of the skiffs I was used to.
“You’ll share a cabin here,” Zoya said, opening a door to reveal a small room with two bunks, a viewport, and storage lockers. “It’s not fancy, but it’s dry and warm. Stow your personal gear in the lockers, keep the aisles clear. We run a tight ship. No clutter, no mess.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Good. The crew’s a bit rough around the edges, but we look after our own. You need anything, you ask. We’re about to spend weeks together in very close quarters, so it’s best we all get along.” Her smile widened. “Plus, Cypher’s already in a mood about taking on passengers. No need to make it worse.”
“What’s his problem with us?” Kora asked.
“You’re liabilities until you prove otherwise. We’ve lost rookies before to their own stupidity. He doesn’t like taking unnecessary risks.” Zoya shrugged. “But he agreed to this job, which means he sees something valuable enough to override his concerns. So just do your jobs, stay out of the way when things get dangerous, and we’ll all get along fine.”
We stowed our gear quickly and headed back to the deck. The rest of the crew had assembled—six people in total, not counting Cypher. Zoya made introductions.
