Page 13

Idonea’s cheeks burned.

They practised in the open stretch of deck, under the watchful eyes of passing crew. A wiry man laughed when Idonea stumbled, earning him a sharp bark from Safira. “She’ll cut you open by nightfall if you mock her.” That silenced him.

Safira demonstrated with effortless grace, her coat flaring with each motion. Idonea copied her, slowly, but there was strength behind her blows. Each clang of steel echoed through the air like a challenge.

Between drills, her attention snagged on a group of pirates lashing down a long crate near the stern. The lid had shifted in the wind, and through the gap she saw the gleam of polished brass; jointed rods, articulated fingers, the unmistakable geometry of a mechanical arm. Another crate beside it bore the faint sun-emblem of the Temple of Radiant Dawn stamped beneath a hasty coat of black paint. Someone hadn't been thorough enough.

Kerem caught her looking. He kicked the lid shut without breaking stride. "Salvage," he said. "Republic surgeons leave things behind when they run."

"Or when they're pushed," she replied.

His grin was answer enough.

“Lesson four, speak less, listen more. Men can’t resist filling silence with their own noise. Let them talk, and you’ll learn every secret.”

A crewman passed a dented flask down the rigging line, and it reached Safira before Idonea understood it was coming to her. The captain accepted it, turned it once in her fingers, and passed it on without drinking. Only then did she nod for Idonea to take her own pull from the water skin at her hip.

"Lesson five. Never drink first." Safira watched the flask travel on. "Wait. See what a thing does to the man beside you before you let it into your own blood."

"You think your own crew would poison you?"

"I think a captain who assumes otherwise doesn't stay a captain." She said it lightly.

They ran the drills again after that, until Idonea's shoulder ached and the wiry man who'd laughed earlier had found somewhere else to be. When Kerem drifted back within earshot, still trailing his story, Safira glanced at Idonea and tipped her chin toward him.

“Lesson six," Safira said. "Smile when you want someone nervous."

Idonea raised a brow. "Does that work?"

Safira's grin widened. Kerem immediately stopped talking. Useful.

By the time sweat dampened Idonea’s curls and her arms ached, a new stability took root inside her. The pirate’s gait settled into her bones.

Safira leaned closer. Heat brushed the shell of Idonea's ear. "Lesson seven," Safira murmured. Idonea kept her expression still through force alone. "Never forget the mask. Even if the world knows you’re afraid, you must never let them see it.”

Idonea exhaled slowly, eyes scanning the endless sprawl of clouds around them.

Kerem appeared then, all swagger and smirk. “Captain, the mask’s in your cabin.”

His eyes drifted towards Idonea, lingering too long.

Idonea wanted to bare her teeth. Instead, she smiled slightly. The effect unsettled him more.

Safira whispered, “Well done.”

“Looks like one of ours, doesn’t she?” Safira asked him.

Kerem tipped his cap. “Would fool any Octopi.”

Idonea didn’t fear the Republic’s military, because any whiff of witchcraft would summon down a Templar.

“Good,” Safira said briskly. “Now get back to work.”

Safira held Kerem's stare until he looked away, and slipped away.

Through the passageways, past groaning pipes and flaring lanterns Idonea followed the captain. Back in the cabin, Safira tossed her a black leather mask which would cover the mouth, with fine silver mesh stitched into its breathers.

“Wear it in the capital.”