The wind’s cool kiss woke Sepha the next morning. It had gotten warm last night, with the two of them nestled together on Sepha’s narrow bed like a two-piece jigsaw puzzle, so they’d cracked open one of the windows to let in the cold wind and the sound of the sea.

Sepha felt warm and comfortable and—awake. There was a strange, crystalline quality to the light, as if last night’s storm had polished it. Now, it was new and gleaming bright.

Last night’s storm.

The library. The undead magician. Ruhen. Destry. Ruhen!

Sepha rolled over with nearly violent speed and saw Ruhen, a wall of Ruhen. He was already awake.

There was a beat of silence as they stared at each other. Ruhen’s eyes were steely gray in the brightness, his body warm against hers. Nothing had happened last night—nothing beyond sleeping beside each other, that is—but something felt new. Something felt different. Something felt right.

“Morning,” Sepha said, covering her mouth with her hand.

Ruhen smiled a closed-lip smile. “Morning,” he said, hiding his mouth too. “How do you feel?”

He could mean any number of things by that question, so Sepha answered the way she felt like answering. “Awake,” she said, smiling. “And you talk in your sleep.”

She rolled over and sat up, putting her bare feet on the cool floor.

“I do?” Ruhen sounded surprised and not at all pleased. “What did I say?”

“Just nonsense words,” Sepha said, tugging on some socks and shoving her feet into her boots.

Ruhen sat up. “Oh? Well, you are weirdly silent while you sleep, so.”

Still feeling strange and new and somehow more real than before, Sepha took her comb from the top of her dresser. She tugged it through her long, rain-tangled hair, picking out the snarls.

“Sepha.”

Sepha stopped combing. Ruhen, bare-footed and broad-shouldered, was sitting on the edge of her bed. He seemed to take up the whole room. There was a strange and almost fearful determination in his eyes. “There’s something I want to tell you,” he said.

He’s been keeping secrets! barked the snide voice.

Sepha frowned. “What is it?”

Ruhen opened his mouth to respond but stopped when Destry burst into the room.

For a moment, Destry stared at the two of them. Then her mouth quirked into a smirk. “Well! Whatever this is,” she said, waving her hand at them, “needs to wait. Thuban wants you to help clean up out there. I couldn’t dissuade him, and with the state things are in, it might be best to let him have his way today.”

“Oh,” Sepha said. She licked her lips and asked, “What do they know?”

“They know it was the homunculus magician,” Destry said, frowning a little. “There wasn’t a way around that part. But as far as his connection to you goes, they’re in the dark.”

Sepha heaved a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

Destry shrugged and looked at Ruhen. “You should go help, too. If you don’t mind.”

Ruhen twisted his mouth to the side, but nodded. He looked at Sepha. “Come find me after you’re done,” he said. “Don’t forget.”

Sepha nodded and watched as Ruhen strode shoeless out of the room.

“Well!” Destry said, looking expectantly at Sepha. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” Sepha said, pretending that she wasn’t going crimson, that half of her attention wasn’t on her lengthening tether.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” Destry said, leaning against the wall.

“We only talked.” She knew it sounded like a lie, but that didn’t make it one.

“Please tell me you didn’t—”

“I’m not stupid, Destry!” Sepha said. “And neither is he.”

“Well, you’d better not be,” Destry said, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. “Twilit After, you’re toeing a dangerous line. You ready to go?”

Sepha grabbed her holsters from her desk and buckled them around her hips. “Ready.”

Frowning a little, Destry said, “I hope so.”

Sepha followed Destry out of the Ten and into a maze of hastily erected pavilions in the courtyard. The air smelled like char. Teams of alchemists were sorting through what few books had been saved from the wreckage. Against the outer wall, white sheets covered four human-sized lumps and several homunculus-sized ones—everyone who hadn’t made it out in time.

Bricks smashed against stone as alchemists heaved rubble out the library’s gaping windows. The air was taut and twanging, as if everyone were connected to everyone else by a bit of string. If Sepha yanked on a single strand, all of the alchemists would come tumbling toward her.

Her own string told her that Ruhen was inside the library’s husk, helping to clear the rubble.

“Start here,” Destry said, pointing at a sad pile of half-burnt books awaiting sorting. “I have to go take care of a few things.”

After a blank moment spent staring at the pile, Sepha knelt and started flipping through the books, trying to decide how burnt was too burnt.

“And there she is,” said a slinking, snide voice. Thuban appeared from beneath a nearby pavilion, twisting his Guild ring around his finger, Henric at his side. The circles beneath Henric’s eyes were darker than ever. “I was wondering when you would decide to pitch in.”

Sepha took a sharp breath. “Do you need something?”

“We need our windows back,” Thuban said, and pointed at an enormous pile of assorted detritus retrieved from the husk of the library. “This is all of the glass we could find. There was no way to separate the glass from the general rubble, so much of what you see might be unusable.” He smirked as he spoke, and added, “But for someone who could transmute straw into gold, this should be quite a simple task. You are, after all, only turning glass and metal into differently shaped glass and metal.”

Thuban thought he was taunting her, thought he was asking for the impossible. He knew, just as everyone here did, that the materials inside that pile of rubbish were too many and varied for any sort of transformation to work properly. A bitter wind tugged at the corner of a half-burnt AUTHORIZED and COMPELLED to EXECUTE poster that was partially buried in the rubble.

Sepha glanced at the library, burned to a crisp and roofless, and suddenly didn’t care that Destry had warned her not to rise to the alchemists’ challenges. She had an actual, real enemy, one whom she very much wanted to execute. She simply did not have the time to waste on such an insignificant man as Thuban.

Ruhen would say this was reckless, and Destry would tell her to ignore Thuban. But Ruhen and Destry weren’t here, and Sepha would finish before either of them noticed what was happening.

“You’re absolutely right. This will be simple,” she said, surprised by how confident her voice sounded. “I’ll need a transformation alchem, please.”

Thuban’s look of surprise was quickly replaced with one of derision. “Still can’t make your own?”

“No,” she said curtly, and turned to Henric. “Would you mind?”

“Not at all,” said Henric, looking altogether too pleased. He started chalking a transformation alchem around the pile of rubble.

Sepha’s palms started to sweat, and her heart pumped quickly—too quickly. “I can do this, I can do this,” she whispered to herself, wiping her hands on the legs of her pants.

Within moments, Henric straightened. “Finished,” he said. His voice boomed throughout the silent courtyard, and Sepha could practically feel the alchemists turn their gazes curiously toward her. “I’d start soon, if I were you. You’re drawing a crowd.”

Sepha’s heart lurched as she looked around. Sure enough, there was a ring of alchemists around the freshly drawn alchem. Henric’s Military Alchemist friends were there, glaring at her as if they somehow knew she was the cause of all of this destruction.

She scowled at them, then looked away.

Ruhen appeared directly across the alchem from Sepha, his eyes wide, and shook his head frantically. Sepha pretended not to notice.

Sepha walked to the edge of the alchem, knelt, and placed her hands just so. She studied the towering pile of glass, metal, and sundries one last time, and closed her eyes.

It was silent. It was dark. That strange sense of newness, of awakeness, stirred; she felt as if anything was possible, if she would only think to do it.

Sepha allowed herself a small smile. Let Thuban choke on this, she thought.

She focused.

She thought of the glass shards and twisted pane dividers and pictured them whole and straight. She pictured the panes installed into their frames, so all that remained was for someone to install the fresh new windows into the husk of the library. The rest of the rubble, she pictured as dust.

Dozens of pocket realities sprang up, all possibility and potential, containing variations of the material inside her alchem.

She selected the variation she needed. And made the exchange.

There was a prolonged pulse that set her bones ringing, and Sepha opened her eyes and smiled. A neat row of new windows had replaced the pile of rubble, just as she’d intended. Any moment now, the ring of alchemists would start clamoring. Impossible! How did you do it? She readied to stand.

But then something inside her, something like her contract but wholly unlike it, reared up, roiling and wild, a raging wind, a ravening beast. It paralyzed and broke her, and she slumped to the ground and into a million pieces.

There was an empty, black-as-a-new-moon-night moment. Then a swooping breath of briny wind.

Sepha smashed back into oneness, back to the sharpness of reality. Her senses, even with her eyes closed, were enhanced to the point of pain, and that roiling something bubbled up inside her with more and more energy, until she was afraid that she would explode from it.

So, she did the only thing she could think of, and released it.

There was a pulse, or something like it, and Sepha was nearly ripped apart as the something left her body in a vicious, swirling whirlwind. She thought of the windows in a small, detached part of her mind, and hoped that the something wouldn’t break them, because she did want to help repair the damage the undead magician had done.

Then the something was gone.

Sepha kept her eyes closed for a few moments more, awash with relief in the wake of the roaring something. Then she opened her eyes, expecting to see her regiment of freshly transformed windows waiting for her.

They weren’t there. She frowned. Stood and looked confusedly around. Then her eyes fell upon the husk of the library.

Or, what had been the husk of the library.

What now stood where the library had been was barely recognizable. Sepha noticed, only because she’d made them, the windows she’d just produced, gleaming bright and fully installed. But the building itself—

The bottom two stories were square and stone, just like the old library. But above those were fantastic metal-and-glass domes, gravity-defying towers, and impossible shining arches. The new library looped and stretched and loomed taller than the walls, taller even than the Ten, and seemed to spread over them like an enormous architectural tree. It was a building from a dream or a nightmare, a structure whose towers might at any moment prove to be tentacles, and its every dome a toothy, devouring maw.

In that impossible moment, Sepha knew the building better than she knew herself. Knew the bookshelves that were doorways and the doorways that weren’t, the hidden room whose walls whispered secrets that hadn’t mattered for a thousand years, and the windows whose spectacular views didn’t exist in any reality. Knew the stairways that ended with sheer drops, the rooms that would seal airtight once anyone crossed the threshold, and the doors that let the monsters in at night. Knew that the building was full of books whose letters would incessantly shift for everyone now, instead of just for her.

There was a jerk on Sepha’s tether, then it disappeared completely. She lurched forward, tugged off balance by the loss. Then her tether reappeared, stretched so far that it felt like Ruhen was in the Ten.

Then came a snarling shout from Thuban’s direction. “Magician!”

“Where?” Sepha shouted, feeling disoriented and confused, and spun to look. Her tether jerked and disappeared again, and her stomach swooped.

“She’s with him!” someone else shouted.

The tether reappeared, stretched even farther. Ruhen was on a higher floor now.

“She let that homunculus magician in!” came another voice.

The words filtered through Sepha’s ears as if they were coming from a great distance.

They thought she’d—

A hundred pulses all around her.

By instinct alone, Sepha dropped to her knees and yanked an alchem and ingot from her holster. Her own pulse. Her own revolver.

The whistle of sharp metal on the wind.

They were throwing knives at her!

Before Sepha could duck, before she could defend herself, knives and spears clanged off an invisible barrier in the air and thudded uselessly to the ground.

Sepha’s stomach was churning and her fingers were shaking so badly that she couldn’t load her revolver and the Military Alchemists were forming a rank around her and—

Her tether flickered out again, and Sepha fell forward, catching herself with one hand.

A hundred more pulses, and shouts and shouts and shouts.

One shout distinguished itself from the rest.

“Sepha!” Destry bellowed. “To me!”

Sepha didn’t have time to consider. She pushed to her feet and ran toward Destry’s voice. By luck, there were only Court Alchemists in that direction—useless in a fight—and they scattered as she barreled toward them.

“Fio!” Sepha shouted, catching a glimpse of his blond hair and brown eyes amongst the crowd of homunculi lining the wall. He came running.

Then Sepha’s tether snapped back to, and Ruhen was somehow only a few steps away. He caught up with her and grabbed her elbow, pulling her along.

A hush and a whistle as the Military Alchemists hurled their weapons again.

And then a hundred clangs as they hit that invisible barrier.

Destry and Henric appeared in front of Sepha and banged through the mess hall’s doors, sprinting to the double doors on the far side, which led to the underground tunnels. Destry stopped just long enough to transform a bar to brace the doors shut, and then turned to Henric with a fierce look in her eyes.

“Are you with me or against me, Henric?” she asked, one hand straying to her holsters.

“She’s a magician!” Henric said, pointing at Sepha.

“No, I’m not!” Sepha cried as Ruhen grabbed her arm and yanked her behind him, standing between her and Henric.

“Not now, Sepha!” Destry said through gritted teeth. The doors lurched and squealed as the Military Alchemists tried to force them open, but Destry’s bar held. She looked at Henric and repeated, “Are you with me or against me?”

For a moment, the first in line for the office of Magistrate stared at the second; then Henric dipped his head in a bow. He sent an almost defiant glance toward Sepha, and said, “With you, of course, Destry. Always.”

“Good,” Destry said, and charged down the corridor. Henric cast one last glare toward Sepha before sprinting after his sister.

Henric, who thought she was a magician.

What had she done?

Ruhen’s hand closed around her wrist and, with Fio in tow, they ran after Destry and Henric.

Destry led them deep underground, far past the usual laboratories, through a tunnel that described a zigzag pattern deep within the cliff.

The tunnel terminated at a large, glass-fronted door marked “Gestation Chambers.” Through the glass, Sepha saw a central room from which several open chambers spread like spokes from a hub. The chambers were lined with strange, brown, bladder-like bags, a different size for each room. Some of the larger bags were intermittently bulging, as if something was poking at them from inside.

One of the largest bags had a head sticking out the top.

The head of a homunculus.

It glowered over the lip of the bag, which was bulging furiously, as if the homunculus was trying to escape. Fio pushed past Sepha and stood with his nose against the glass, staring blankly in. Ruhen pressed his hand to his mouth.

“What is this place?” Sepha croaked.

“Gestation chambers,” Destry said, hardly out of breath. “It’s where homunculi are grown,” she added with maddening nonchalance, as if homunculus farms were nothing unusual. She paused, then knelt down, facing the tunnel wall. “Oh! There it is.”

Destry pressed her thumb against a nondescript bump on the tunnel wall, and with a loud crack, a hidden door appeared. It retreated into the wall and slid away to reveal yet another tunnel, this one completely unlit. In the dimness just beyond the door, Sepha could see a set of metal stairs, which presumably continued the whole way down to … wherever.

“Come on!” Destry said, and she and Henric bounded down the steep stairs beyond the doorway.

Sepha moved to follow but stopped when Fio grabbed her sleeve. He jerked his head at the struggling homunculus, and her heart sank. “I can’t help him,” she said. “We have to go.” As if to prove her right, there was a faint, reverberating bang from far above, and a triumphant shout.

“Sepha.” Ruhen’s voice was anxious. “We don’t have time for this.”

Fio pursed his lips.

“We’ll come back for the other homunculi, if you want us to,” Sepha said, even though it’d be easier to pick Fio up and carry him away. “But we can’t stay.”

Fio sent one last glance toward the struggling homunculus. Then he nodded.

Sepha allowed Ruhen to pull her down into the darkness. Fio grunted as he pushed the door shut behind them.

The stairs led them down and down through the narrow, pitch-black tunnel. They took the stairs at a blind run.

What had she done?

She’d done alchemy to fix the windows, she was sure of it. But then some strange force had exploded from inside her. From beneath her skin.

Had that strange force been the thing that made that … monstrosity, that new library?

It must’ve been, because they’d called her a magician. After, if she’d seen anyone else do what she’d apparently done, she’d’ve thought the same thing! But she wasn’t a magician, couldn’t be, because magic and alchemy … didn’t … mix …

Something shifted inside Sepha’s mind, a curtain wafting in the breeze, letting her see, all at once, what was behind it.

Alchemy and magic had mixed, a long time ago. The alchemancers had done both. And some of them had survived the slaughter.

Sepha wasn’t an alchemist.

She was an alchemancer.

That was the only thing that could explain what had just happened. The only thing that could explain why she’d always been able to break the rules.

She was an alchemancer.

Sepha stopped so abruptly that Fio rammed into the back of her legs. She had just enough presence of mind to shift him aside before she slumped heavily down.

There in the dark, Sepha tumbled. In place of that howling panic, there was now silence.

There was the scuff of shoes and the quietest grunt, and Fio sat beside her.

“I think I’m an alchemancer, Fio,” Sepha said.

The homunculus sighed and patted her knee. Which, any other day, would’ve shocked her. But today, she was beyond the point of being surprised.

Somewhere ahead of her, Ruhen slowed to a stop.

“Sepha?” There was a hush to his voice. A tension.

“I’m here,” she said, although she wasn’t sure that she was. She wasn’t Sepha anymore, wasn’t an alchemist anymore. She was an alchemancer, which meant she was magic and was therefore wicked. She wasn’t what she’d thought she was. She was something else entirely.

Sepha’s tether reeled in as Ruhen scaled the steps toward her. “We need to hurry, Seph.”

We.

Ruhen didn’t know what she was. And there was no time for lies. She had to tell him now so he could turn back before it was too late.

“I’m not an alchemist. I’m an alchemancer.” The words came out in a rush. “I didn’t realize it until just now. If you turn back now, maybe you can say I had you under a spell—”

“Sepha, I know you’re not an alchemist,” Ruhen interrupted. His voice was very close. His hands found her knees, her arms, her wrists. There was that tingling-electric feeling in her left hand of a circle lightly traced, and she clenched her hand into a fist. “Destry knows, too. We’ve been waiting for you to figure it out. That’s why she gave you that book to read in the first place. It was her way of nudging you in the right direction.”

Nothing but those words could’ve snapped Sepha out of her stupor.

“You knew?” she shrieked. Her voice echoed knew-knew-knew down the tunnel. “Since when?”

Ruhen had the gall to sound exasperated. “Since a while, all right? I’d love to talk this through with you, but right now a hundred Military Alchemists want nothing more than to kill you. And me.”

Destry’s voice came ringing down the tunnel. “If you don’t get out of each other’s faces right this instant, I swear I’ll personally murder you both!”

With a growl, Sepha pulled herself to her feet. “We will talk about this later.” She pounded down the stairway without waiting for Ruhen or Fio. The walls ahead soon glowed with reflected light, and she emerged into an enormous, rectangular cavern, the far end of which was open to the sea. A wide inlet was carved into the base of the cavern, and seawater flowed in and out with the constant waves, slopping murky water over the lip. A long-nosed boat with two rows of leather seats bobbed on the water’s surface.

What was this place?

“Into the boat!” Destry said. Her voice was strung tight. “Now!”

Destry leapt into the boat and worked the controls until the engine roared to life. Henric clambered up after her, and she snapped, “Henric, stay here.”

“I’m coming.”

“Henric!”

“I’m not leaving you alone with her!”

Destry clenched her fists and let out a smothered roar of frustration, but then said, “Fine. Fine! Mother’s going to kill me either way.”

Ruhen tossed Fio into the back row of seats and then rushed Sepha ahead of him onto the boat. Before Sepha had a chance to process, the boat sped out of the cavern. The tiny boat cut across the waves at the mouth of the cavern and soon left the cliffside behind.

There was a splash nearby, and another, and Sepha looked back at the Institute. There, atop the wall, was a rank of Military Alchemists and the cannons they’d just finished assembling, white smoke wafting gently from the barrels—

Then the rounds exploded underwater. Each explosion sent up shockwaves so powerful that they nearly capsized their little boat.

Ruhen pulled Sepha down below the rim of the boat, shielding her with his body. Fio clung to Sepha as huge explosions sent the boat careening over the water’s unquiet surface. With a few pulses, Henric produced a shoulder-cannon and began returning fire, and Destry steered to avoid the exploding rounds. Every moment took them farther from the Institute, and Sepha was an alchemancer, and Sepha was an alchemancer, and Sepha was an alchemancer.

 

 

 

 

Soon enough, although it felt like forever, they were safely out of range with no one yet in pursuit. Destry fiddled with the controls, and the boat slowed enough that the engine’s roar lowered to a grumble.

In the back row, Fio crowded Sepha from one side and Ruhen from the other, so close that his shoulder protruded in front of her. Still shielding her, just in case.

Destry rested her forehead against the steering wheel and swore. And swore again.

“Are you going to explain why we’re in a boat with a magician?” Henric asked. He shot a glare over his shoulder at Sepha.

“I’m not a magician,” Sepha said. “I’m an alchemancer.” The distinction felt important.

Henric’s jaw dropped, and Destry whipped around in surprise.

“Oh! So, you know now,” Destry said, and sighed. “Well, at least that book did some good. Albeit half an hour too late.”

“What book?” Henric asked, sounding irritated to find that he was outside the loop. “What does a book have to do with any of this?”

“I gave her a commentary on recent events,” Destry said, her voice dull. “It told the history of magic in Tirenia.”

Henric stared blankly at his sister for a moment before understanding gleamed in his light green eyes. “So, you not only knew she was an alchemancer, but also made sure she found out our ancestor betrayed and murdered her ancestors. Excellent plan, Destry.”

Destry glared at the cloudless sky. “I am not discussing this with you, Henric. We just got shot at, in case you’ve forgotten. I need to think.”

“They shot at us because they think we’re plotting against Mother, who’s managed to make it quite clear what she thinks of magicians. In case you’ve forgotten.”

A wild look came into Destry’s ice-blue eyes as she ran her gloved hands through her hair. “Plotting against Mother?” she said, her voice pitching higher with every word. “Who do you think told me to keep an eye on her? Why else would Mother have gone to godsdamned Three Mills if not to coax out an alchemancer?”

Sepha’s face went very hot and then very cold.

Henric stared at Destry. “Why would Mother want—”

The little boat lurched as Sepha stood, snatched the shoulder-cannon from the seat beside Henric, and aimed it downward.

Everyone froze.

Destry swore. “Sepha, what do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you want with me?” Sepha asked. There was a howling fury in her mind, equal parts panic and confusion and hurt. She would blast a hole in the boat, send them straight to the bottom, rather than be given up to the Magistrate.

“Gods, Sepha, you aren’t in danger!” Destry shouted. “You’re the most dangerous person on this boat!”

Sepha blinked.

Ruhen cleared his throat. Cautiously, as if approaching a cornered beast, he said, “I think if Destry meant you harm, she’d’ve killed you in your sleep instead of teaching you self-defense.”

Sepha frowned. He had a point.

“And she probably also wouldn’t’ve gotten you those holsters and let you practice making your own weapons.”

“Destry,” Henric said, his eyes darting from Destry to the shoulder-cannon and back again. “Jump. Swim to shore. I’ll hold her off.”

“Shut up, Henric,” Sepha and Destry snapped.

Destry’s eyes locked on Sepha’s. Sepha forced herself to see Destry, not the future Magistrate. Destry, not the Military Alchemist. Just Destry. Forced herself to remember and not to fear.

Ruhen was right. If Destry meant her harm, then she was very bad at doing her harm.

Sepha sat. Everyone else slumped in relief.

“Mother’s always on the hunt for alchemancers,” Destry said. Her voice was tight. “An army of alchemancers is too dangerous, but one alchemancer here and there—you’d be a powerful ally. Mother went to Three Mills to see proof of your abilities firsthand, bringing only me and Thuban because she didn’t trust anyone else.” Henric’s face went scarlet. “Only, since Thuban’s spent all of his time trying to get you to reveal yourself, it seems she shouldn’t’ve trusted him after all.”

Ruhen scrutinized Sepha—checking to see if she was stable, no doubt, because she was the most dangerous person on the boat—before asking Destry, “What’ll your mother do now that Sepha’s secret is out?”

Destry and Henric exchanged glances.

There was something new in Henric’s eyes, calculation or grudging regret, when he said, “If she’s not a secret anymore, she’s of no use to Mother.”

“You don’t know that, Henric,” Destry said, but it sounded half-hearted.

“Don’t I?” Henric said. Destry swallowed and looked away, and Sepha had the feeling that the siblings carried more secrets than she ever had.

The shoulder-cannon was warm beneath her hands, the salty breeze languid and cool. The Magistrate had recruited Sepha for her own purposes, and Sepha had ruined that prospect. Now the Magistrate wouldn’t protect her, and the Military Alchemists would be after her. She needed a place to hide. Somewhere safe, out of the Magistrate’s long reach.

A memory. The spark of a plan.

“Take me to the Spirit Alchemists,” Sepha said.

Destry looked back, surprised. “What?”

“You don’t know what your mother will do with me, and I sure as After am not leaving it up to chance,” Sepha said, becoming surer of herself as she went on. “If you really mean me no harm, take me to the Spirit Alchemists.”

Destry and Henric exchanged glances again.

“See,” Henric said carefully, “the thing is …”

“Aunt Isolde is as bad as Mother,” Destry said.

“If not worse,” Henric finished.

“But if I’m there,” Sepha said, undaunted, “your mother can’t get to me. And if your aunt doesn’t like your mother, maybe she’ll help me out of spite.”

Destry hesitated.

“It’s a good plan,” Ruhen said. “Let Sepha and me go, at least, and we’ll get there on our own.”

There was that we again. Angry as she was, something inside Sepha went molten, and her contract thrummed with a wild rhythm.

“They wouldn’t let you in without us,” Destry said. She and Henric exchanged another wordless glance. After a long moment, Destry said, “Fine. It’s better than nothing.”

“Good. Thanks.” Sepha glanced at Ruhen, with whom she supposed she couldn’t rightly be angry just now. “Are you sure you want to—”

“I’m coming with you.” There was a blazing fierceness in his eyes, and Sepha forced herself to look away.

“Let’s get going,” she said to Destry.

With a displeased nod, Destry cranked the engine, and they headed to Port Balarat.