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Safira’s hand lightly brushed hers on the railing. “Don’t flinch,” she murmured. “Skyfolk watch for weakness.”

Idonea swallowed and nodded, forcing her spine straight.

For the rest of the morning, she followed Safira’s commands.

"Shoulders back," Safira said. Idonea adjusted automatically. "Too rigid." Annoying woman.

Safira stepped beside her. "People smell fear before blood."

The deck rolled beneath them. Idonea loosened her stance slightly. Crewmen looked and Idonea let them. Smirks faded quickest when she held eye contact half a second too long. Approval curled briefly at the edge of Safira's smile.

And through it all, the ship surged forward, sails creaking and brass engines humming deep below deck.

Safira turned to her with a soft smile. “What’s your plan once we reach the Republic?”

“Find my mother. Find the daemon,” Idonea said.

“Bold plan. And when you find this daemon? Kill it?”

Idonea didn’t answer immediately. She wanted to say yes. That she could tear the thing’s heart out and cast it into fire. But the truth sat like lead behind her teeth.

Safira turned. “Just take care.”

Idonea studied her. “Why help me at all? You know what I am. What I can do.”

Safira’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Everyone deserves a shot at freedom. But the world fears anything it failed to control. I prefer to collect useful things before the world breaks them.”

Idonea let the answer sit between them. Useful things. The phrase settled badly beneath her ribs. Too close to how Nellith spoke sometimes.

Across the deck most passengers kept to themselves, huddled in cloaks or muttering. But one woman stood utterly still — too still.

Her chest didn’t rise, and her shoulders didn’t twitch in the wind. It was the stillness of death, or something imitating the living.

A cold tingle slid down Idonea’s spine. She narrowed her eyes, turned away to prick a finger on her knife, and tugged at a strand of the Current. They were wispy, half-invisible, like smoke trails from a dying flame. She tested the Current around the woman.

Current recoiled and pushed away from her presence.

“Who is that?” Idonea asked and pointed towards the woman.

Safira followed her gaze and shrugged. “Some upper-class passenger. Paid well to get to the capital in one piece.”

Idonea didn’t respond. She couldn’t afford to. If she accused the woman and was wrong, or worse, if the captain sold that information, she’d lose any advantage.

Safira didn’t let her rest long. Once Idonea had circled the deck twice with her chin tilted just so, the captain snapped her fingers and tossed her a hand crossbow.

“Lesson three,” Safira said. “No one who works rough walks unarmed. Show me how you hold it.”

Idonea caught the weapon with clumsy fingers, knuckles white, stance tight as a drawn string. Safira clicked her tongue, and stepped closer, correcting the angle of Idonea’s wrist with a fingertip that lingered longer than necessary.

“Relax your fingers,” Safira said. “Let the weight tell you where to be.”

Like heat at her back, the captain’s presence anchored Idonea even as it set her on edge.

Safira nodded towards Idonea’s stiletto at her hip. “Can you wield it like a weapon?”

“I have,” she replied, clipping the crossbow on her belt and unsheathing the dagger.

Safira adjusted her grip. “Don't clench the blade. Coax it. It moves with you.”