Page 213 of Carousel

I panic. Glance outside. The ships are hovering, still stationary but for their slight rise and fall. It’s a strange sight. I crane my neck, half expecting to see strings pulling them up from above.

“How long will the pilots stay like that?”

“Not long at all, if you keep bickering.”

“Will they start falling?”

“No,” Meg says. “You’re letting them keep their ships afloat. Just nothing else.”

I quell the rage I feel.

Because Meg is right. I need to keep calm. Or all of this – and Riss’ death – will have been for nothing.

I look back up at Drake. “Why?” I croak, knowing he will understand my meaning.

He bends to me. Whispers, “You will get what you want. But we need to get to Rhavna right now.”

I get it. Only Dezeeves can get us there.

But if he lets me down, and keeps Dezeeves alive for any longer than he needs to be –

“I won’t let you down.”

His words ripple over me. Had he…?

“Excellent,” Dezeeves rings out from across the room. “I think we’re just about ready to set sail. How are the controls?”

“Ship shape,” Meg replies.

“Let’s get her moving, then.”

Dezeeves turns the helm, and Meg pulls up one of the levers, her nails long and sharp around it. A familiar whirring starts up from all around us.

I decide it’s a miserable sound. Must be what spirits sound like moving across distances, or what unhappy memories sound like, resurfacing through time.

And then we’re sailing. Pushing away from the frozen ships. The hive is so smooth compared to the smaller ships. Just floats along like hot air.

Once we reach a certain speed, we don’t go any faster. I suppose it’s much harder to pick up speed when we’re so large.

Our pilots, and Hevalla’s pilots, are left behind.

Cosmer is left behind.

I crane my head for a final glimpse of his ship.

The ship I should be on right now.

“Will our pilots be okay?” I ask. “When the magic ends?”

“I am quite sure they will,” Dezeeves says, disgustingly cheerily. “Now that Hevalla has seen our weapon in action, our little ceasefire will likely become quite permanent.” His steering softens as he adds, “Why not take a seat? This won’t be the shortest of flights.”

I drop into the chair right at the end of the table, by an older woman and a younger girl. They look like a mother and daughter. They smile at me, weakly. I don’t think I manage to smile back.

I sit for a while.

My thoughts turn to Cosmer. Who I may never see again.

Old Mother. Her last words to me. She wants to bring about peace. I can do that. I’m sure I can do that.