Klara ran out of breath, and her ragged scream was snuffed out. With her gut feeling stuck in her mouth, she couldn’t suck air into her lungs. She still clung to Mikhail as they tumbled through the night, twisting as they dropped. The long, curved canvas hulk of Vera’s Revenge’s mainframe rose to greet them, its movements ungainly and slow from Klara’s reflex boosted perspective.

  Mikhail looked back at her. He was yelling something, but she couldn’t make out the words.

  Then he squirmed, struggling to push her arm away.

  No. No. NO!

  “We’re going to miss,” Mikhail screamed, his words unnaturally slow.

  Klara looked down, reeling. Sure enough, they were falling to the side of the airship. A new avalanche of panic slammed into her.

  “You need to let go!” Mikhail said, his words dragged through syrup. “We have to steer towards them, but we can’t with you clinging to me.”

  Klara shut her eyes. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

  Less than a week had gone by since her fall from Katavsk’s battlements. That fall hadn’t killed her. How had she survived?

  By breathing.

  Finally, Klara inhaled, forcing the bitter air into her lungs. The sensation of falling vanished, replaced by weightlessness. Her head cleared and stomach moved back to her gut where it belonged.

  Klara opened her eyes and tried to pierce the darkness. Mikhail was right, they were going to miss Vera’s Revenge. She let go and tumbled away from him, knocked by the gusting wind.

  Mikhail straightened his body, angling towards the airship, and slid further away from her. Panic clawed at her rib cage, but she shoved it down and imitated him.

  It worked! Now they both fell towards Vera’s Revenge, aimed for the nose of the airship.

  Then Klara spotted two figures running across the top of the mainframe waving, their movements leisurely to her warped senses. She twisted, adjusting course, aiming for one figure. He must have seen, because he stopped running and braced himself, arms wide, as if waiting to... catch her? He wanted her to fly into him? Insane. But... if he was on Trinity and tethered to the airship, he should be able to catch her without killing them both.

  Right?

  Klara glanced to the side. Mikhail was twenty feet away and drifting further, still heading to the nose. With a chill, Klara realised he hadn’t seen the crew on the mainframe.

  And he no longer had his grappling pistol.

  Their fall felt sluggish, but in reality, they were moving far too fast for him to catch himself on the slick canvas mainframe.

  Surely he’d see the crewman waving at him?

  But his trajectory never changed.

  Vera’s Revenge was now only forty feet away, making it impossible for her to reach Mikhail and let him know he needed to adjust his course. Not if she were to still have time to reach the crewman waiting for her.

  However, she still had her grappling pistol.

  Klara spun in the air, curving her body towards Mikhail and floating towards him, her coat flapping lazily in the wind. Vera’s Revenge drew ever nearer, approaching her faster than she was approaching Mikhail.

  Klara narrowed her eyes. She’d make it. She had to.

  Only feet away from Vera’s Revenge, Mikhail finally noticed her. She could almost feel his confusion—

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  —then they both hit the mainframe at an angle and bounced, flung into the air by the thick canvas. Mikhail flailed as he fought to right himself.

  Reflex kept the world crawling by, but with every second Klara spent in this state, the more it screwed with her head. Her body knew how fast it moved, but her brain denied the truth. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind as she snatched at Mikhail. Her good hand closed around his coat collar, and she yanked him to her.

  He smacked into her, one windmilling arm colliding with her broken forearm.

  Klara howled in agony and Mikhail stopped thrashing as they fell, following the curve of the mainframe as it slopped down. Close, yet out of reach.

  “Hold on to me,” Klara said, pulling her grappling pistol from its holster.

  Mikhail did as he was told and shuffled until he clung to her back, his arms wrapped tight around her—one over her shoulder, one around her side, hands linked at her chest.

  Once certain he was secure, Klara shot the mainframe.

  The grappling bolt punctured the canvas, and she yanked the pistol back. It whirred as it spooled out a length of cord. Taking a deep breath, Klara locked the cord and, moving with all the speed she could muster, wrapped it thrice around her injured arm. Might as well only destroy one arm…

  Vera’s Revenge continued to drift by as she tucked the pistol through one loop, ensuring it wouldn’t come free. Bile rose in her throat as she tried to ignore how much her plan would hurt.

  Then she pulled the broken blade from her belt and lifted it. She sensed more than felt the cord tightening around her arm, around the bruised muscle. Around the broken bone. Sovereign Sculptor, please keep my arm attached…

  Klara swung the knife. It sank into the canvas as the cord snapped tight on her arm.

  Klara screamed.

  Canvas tore.

  They slid down the mainframe, blade and grappling hook shredding the canvas, but slowing their descent.

  It’s not enough!

  But then, suddenly, they jerked to a halt.

  The world snapped back to speed as they hung there, bouncing lightly against the grey canvas.

  Klara gagged, fighting back bile.

  Mikhail trembled, his arms quaking against her front. She imagined she could hear his teeth rattling, though knew that wasn’t true, the rushing wind and engines drowned every other sound.

  Klara looked up, squinting. Her goggles had fogged slightly, making it difficult to see anything.

  “What happened? How’d we stop?” Mikhail asked.

  “Cursed if I know,” Klara said, her voice weak even to her ears. Her head swam and she couldn’t focus.

  “Klara?” Mikhail said, his voice distant.

  She grunted. What did the kid want this time? So needy…

  “Klara, wake up!”

  Wake up? It was still dark, just a few more minutes of sleep. She shut her eyes.

  “Klara!”

  Something in his voice snagged Klara’s attention, drawing her from the tranquillity that called her. “What?” she mumbled.

  “We made it.”

  Made what? Blini? It was too early for breakfast…

  Oh.

  The memory of falling shattered the peace in her mind and reminded her of just how cursed much her left arm hurt. The cord had caught on her wrist and held, wrapped tight and cutting off the circulation to her fingers. Her forearm, however, was another story…

  Klara tried to concentrate past the pain and realised they were sliding up the mainframe one jolted foot at a time. Klara let her head slump against Michael’s arm as the mainframe slowly levelled out beneath them. A moment later two figures came into view.

  The two crewmen who’d waited to catch them now stood braced against the mainframe, hauling Klara and Mikhail up hand-over-hand.

  “Trubnikov will snap when he hears about the damage you did to Vera!” one yelled cheerfully as he reached down and dragged Mikhail off Klara’s back.

  The other, a short, broad-shouldered man, snorted and helped Klara to her feet and unwrapped the grappling pistol cord from her wrist. When she winced, he softened his touch, deftly removing the cord.

  “You’re fortunate Oleg is a crazy mucker,” the short man said, guiding them up the mainframe. “When you two bounced, he leapt off the side after you. Didn’t even stop to check he was secured!”

  “Shut up, Timur, you know I tripped,” Oleg said.

  Then Klara noticed the thick cords around the two men's waists, cords that trailed up the mainframe to a bar running the length of the long airship. So that’s how they catch people safely… and trip safely.

  “Wait!” She froze, nearly pulling the stout Timur, who held her arm, off balance. “My knife.”

  “It’s all right,” Mikhail said. “I grabbed it when they pulled us up.”

  Klara’s shoulders dropped. “Did the others make it back?” she asked, staring up at the faint dots glowing above them. Windows on the Alchemist airship.

  “Yeah, they landed just before you did. They’re inside.” Oleg pulled a hatch open and, unclipping from the bar, climbed down and waved to Klara, who, with his help, descended into Vera’s quiet embrace.