Klara sat slumped against the side wall of the cell, barely noticing her trousers had frozen through. Mikhail lay curled on the bed, his back to her and breathing shallow and laboured. The Sentinel had clearly done some damage when he’d hit Mikhail.

  The finality of Kozlowek’s judgement left Klara numb, even though she knew she only had herself to blame. Mikhail had been content to lie for her, and Sergei had told her to remain silent. Had he known she’d be dishonourably discharged if she spoke?

  The image of Sergei sitting at the council table, unmoving, filled her mind with betrayal. Her own father hadn’t lifted a finger. He just watched, scared as always. Afraid of losing again. She’d almost felt pride when he started to speak up, but that had vanished when Kozlowek merely looked at him.

  Try as she might, Klara couldn’t keep her anger burning against him. Her stomach knotted, and a tear trickled down her cheek. She had no right to be angry at anyone other than herself. Her pride and clutching to a bitter grudge years old had led her here.

  Klara fought a yawn and lost. How long had they been in the cell? It must be at least dusk by now.

  A soft grunt and a thud—like a body collapsing—sounded out of sight down the corridor. Moments later, a hooded and masked Sentinel warden appeared outside the cell door. A single lock of red hair had escaped the hood and hung over the warden’s face.

  “What are you doing, Zin?” Klara asked, still seated.

  Zin ignored her as she unlocked the door and walked over to Mikhail and shook his shoulder.

  Mikhail grunted and rolled over. “Wha?” he slurred.

  “I have an airship to Katavsk,” Zin said. “You coming?”

  Mikhail bolted upright and sucked in a sharp breath, wincing. “Of course I am,” he said, standing, one arm wrapped around his middle.

  “What happened to you?” Zin asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “An overeager watcher didn’t like me insulting Madam Eagle-Eye Keeper. I think he broke a rib.”

  “Well, try to keep up, all right?”

  Mikhail nodded and followed her out the door, then hesitated. “Why aren’t you coming, Klara?”

  “The trip is for you, Mikhail,” Zin said. “My friend will only take one person.”

  “I’m not leaving without her.” Mikhail stepped back into the cell.

  “Get out of here,” Klara said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Zin checked the corridor. “Hurry, kid, this opportunity ends very soon. The extract will wear off the guard any minute.”

  “No,” Mikhail said. “Klara, get up. You’re coming.”

  “I told you, there’s no room for her!”

  “Then leave us.” Mikhail glared at Zin. “I’m not going without her.”

  “Stop being a stupid yutzi mucker and get out here!” Zin said, grabbing Mikhail’s arm.

  Klara watched them in silence. Only a few days ago she counted Zin as her closest friend, yet in her pride, she’d thrown that away. “I’m not leaving, Mikhail. I’ll face the consequences of my actions.”

  Mikhail shook off Zin’s hand and took a swift step towards Klara, wincing as he moved. His free hand darted out.

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  Crack!

  Klara lifted a hand in shock to her smarting cheek.

  “You’re a fool, Klara,” he said, anger smouldering in his eyes. “Now get your frigid backside off the floor and come with us. You’ve got nothing to prove by playing the martyr. You can still make a difference, the Sentinels aren’t the only people protecting Serovnya.” Mikhail held out his hand to her.

  Klara stared at Mikhail, at his hand, then at the open door and Zin. Why was she refusing to go? Some small hope the council would admit to a moment of madness? That they hadn’t really meant to dishonourably discharge her? Any moment they’d arrive to tell her she was reinstated.

  She laughed softly, and within seconds it devolved to choking sobs. She was fooling only herself, and barely at that. Her chance of being a Sentinel had passed. Klara took Mikhail’s hand and let him help her to her feet.

  Zin rolled her eyes and marched from the cell, muttering.

  Mikhail offered Klara a wry smile. “At least you get to see Katavsk.”

  “Hah! I suppose.”

  They followed Zin into the corridor. The guard lay slumped against the wall, lightly snoring.

  “Looks like a sleeping extract,” Mikhail commented as they hurried past. A pained hiss punctuated each of his steps as they jogged into the barren streets of the Central Circle.

  How late was it?

  Zin led them through side streets towards the airfield. Despite the quiet, they still took great care to stay hidden.

  Minutes later, they entered the airfield tunnel.

  “Wait,” Klara whispered to Zin, “what about the guards?”

  Zin glowered at her. “Already taken care of. Now shut up and keep moving.”

  Klara swallowed a retort as they stepped out into the frigid wind of midnight. Klara gasped. “Holy depths!”

  “Agreed,” Mikhail said, his teeth rattling loud enough to be heard over the gale.

  “Gotta keep moving,” Zin said. “The airship is at the back, and we need to get you inside before you freeze to death.”

  With every step, Klara grew more numb. By the time they reached the first airship in the row, she couldn’t feel her face.

  By the second, she couldn’t close her hands. She shoved them into her armpits in a feeble attempt to coax some life back.

  Mikhail stumbled and fell to his knees.

  “Keep going. We can make it,” Klara said as she struggled to help him upright.

  Mikhail managed a nod. His eyelids had nearly frosted shut.

  “Don’t stop!” Zin yelled back at them.

  They passed another looming bulk of an airship and a grin split Klara’s face. Ahead lay a significantly smaller, grey airship. Its name was barely visible in the moonlight, but visible it was. Vera’s Revenge.

  “That’s Uncle Yuri’s airship,” Klara said.

  Zin glanced over her shoulder. “What was that?” she yelled.

  “I know I can get Uncle Yuri to take us to Katavsk,” Klara yelled back.

  Zin looked at Yuri’s airship to Klara. “That’s not our ride,” she said. “Ours is further down.”

  “But you said they’d only take Mikhail. Yuri will take all three of us.”

  “There’s no time for this,” Zin said. “Keep moving.”

  “You sure Uncle Yuri will take us?” Mikhail asked.

  “Yes. And he transports Sentinel coats. There’s no better way into Katavsk.”

  “We’re going to try Yuri,” Mikhail yelled at Zin. “If he refuses, then we can go with your man.”

  Zin spun. “Are you serious? After everything I did to get you out, you want to change the plan now?”

  “And I appreciate it,” Mikhail said, “but this option sounds better—and closer. We try Yuri.”

  Klara led Mikhail towards the narrow ramp protruding from Vera’s Revenge’s gondola. “You coming?” she asked Zin as they staggered by.

  Zin glanced down the line of airships, swore, then followed.

  Klara stepped onto the ramp which creaked, bouncing and groaning with every step. They reached the wide hold doors and Klara hammered on them.

  They remained shut.

  “We’re wasting time,” Zin called over the wind.

  Come on Uncle Yuri. Klara lifted her hand to hammer on the doors again, when they were yanked open and Yuri barred the way, glaring at them.

  “Klara?” he said. “What the depths are you doing out here?”

  “Uncle Yuri,” Klara said, “we need your help.”

  Yuri looked at Zin and Mikhail, suspicion in his eyes. “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “Mikhail and a friend.”

  “Mikhail?”

  Klara nodded.

  Yuri jutted his jaw as he sucked his teeth.

  “Are you going to help or not?” Klara asked, impatience creeping into her voice.

  “No.”