Page 112 of Carousel

“Drake told me it wasn’t found.”

“We thought it wasn’t. But then after the mission Dezeeves said we did. They gave everyone an extra slice of bread on Lower Pilot Deck.”

I focus on the sky again.

I don’t like the sound of this at all.

I’d felt relaxed – as relaxed as I could be up here – knowing that at least Rhavna could end the war that had been forced upon them at any moment.

If Hevalla has it now…

How will it use it?

What will happen to my country?

“What is the weapon?”

“I wouldn’t know. Probably only Ephraine and Dezeeves would. But it’s powerful. They think we can win the war even if they only use it once. So, yes. Drake might be right – about that, at least.”

I let his words roll over me a moment like slow but forceful waves. The kind that might drag you under, if you’re not careful.

And then I think of something else.

“Cosmer. Where am I actually flying to?”

“Good question. Let’s start getting ourselves lower. It’s not much further ahead.”

“What is?”

“Wait and see,” he says, seasoning kisses on my cheek.

As the ship loses height, a perfect view opens up of the sea below us and steals my breath. I’d never known how many colours make up a sea. White ripples of waves. Swirls of deep blue. Shards of midnight black. The sun is catching the water and it’s as if every inch of it is sparkling.

“There is where we’re going,” Cosmer says.

I see it. Something raised in the water. A stretch of sandy yellow dotted with leafy palm trees. A long wooden building has been erected on one side of it.

“An island?”

“It’s known as the Drens Island. We use it as a stopover for longer flights. That building is a makeshift military base, but there shouldn’t be anyone there now.” He adds, “I’m going to take over the controls now, so we can get landed safely.”

I nod and slide into the seat beside him so he can take the wheel. If anything, I feel relieved. The concentration needed to pilot a ship is exhausting.

Slowly, Cosmer brings us in line with a platform by the wooden building. Checking his gauges the whole time, he cuts the thrust, flips a dial and twists the osimidite valve, which lands us on the decking. He reaches over me to slide the door up, then takes my hand, and we jump out of the ship together.

Holding hands, we step off the decking and onto beach. He kicks off his boots, and I do the same. The sand is warm and soft under my feet – and it strikes me how smooth the ground is, how still. The rising and falling of The Emperor as it hovers, though faint, had become a part of me. The lack of it makes me, ironically, feel dizzy. My legs are shaking.

Looking around, Cosmer says, “Told you it would be empty.” He beams, flashing his mouth of white, neat teeth. “Want to go swimming? It will be like old times.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit,” I say.

He smirks. “That never stopped you before.”

And then he’s running.

“Wait!” I call behind him.

He hollers, hands around his mouth, “Last one in the sea has to give the other a massage!”