Twenty minutes and a mad sprint along the docks later, and Leta had never been happier to be inside the Dionysian’s rusted walls. Somehow, amazingly, they had all made it aboard, and the familiar warm rumble of the engine below had never sounded more beautiful: at last, they were taking off.

“I’m never,” Leta breathed weakly, her lungs still burning, “going back to Paraven. Ever. This is the worst planet in the entire span.” She sank against a wall of the crew deck, catching her breath. Corra sat on the floor at her feet  and Finn was sprawled over an armchair nearby.

“Never doubted us for a second,” he said proudly, sliding his hands behind his neck. “We’ve all gotten outta worse scrapes than that. And hey, we oughta have a drink to celebrate.”

“It’s barely noon,” said Leta.

“I’m still hungover from last night,” added Corra, dropping her forehead in her hand. “I can’t even believe that worked,” she muttered. “Who would have thought flashing just a drawn-on librera would let us walk right out of there so easily?”

“Powerful mark, that thing,” Finn mumbled, sinking into the chair. “Maybe I should get one.”

Corra shot him a nasty glare and said sweetly, “Maybe you should. Might be fun watching Fiear try to kill you. I’ve always wondered who’d win in a fight.”

“Me,” said Finn simply, raising his eyes toward her. “It’d be me.”

“So what happened with that girl who got us out?” Leta intervened, recalling her with a start and straightening up off the wall. “What was her name? Richelle, yeah? Did she end up coming aboard? I didn’t see her when we were taking off — “

“Yeah, she ran upstairs. Probably to Fiearius’ quarters.” Corra rolled her eyes. “After all the trouble she went through, cap’n didn’t really have a choice but to let her come along I guess.”

“I guess we do owe Richelle some thanks,” Leta had to admit, trying not to imagine Richelle anywhere near Fiearius’ bed, “With that disguise of hers, she’s the only reason w — “

But she never got the chance to finish. Just then, footsteps pounded down the hall and Fiearius appeared in the doorway of the crew deck. The look on his face was one of such darkness that even Finn and Corra went wide-eyed and immediately still.

But he wasn’t looking at either of them. His gaze narrowed on Leta as he stormed into the room and growled out, “When the hell were you going to tell me?”

Leta was, quite simply, blank with surprise. “What?” she breathed, sidestepping his affront. “What the hell are you talking about?”

But then she felt her heart grow cold with realization. It wasn’t possible that he — how did he know — he couldn’t have possibly known about her illness. She’d slipped up once and Finn knew, but no one else; she’d kept it close and didn’t breathe a word to Corra, to Cyrus, nor to Fiearius.

Because if she didn’t say it aloud, it wasn’t real.

Her expression must have softened with emotion because Fiearius gritted his teeth as he regarded her. “So it’s true then.”

Somehow, Leta managed to ignore the alarmed stares from Corra and Finn and steel her nerves. And with that, came her defenses. He was cornering her like a caged animal, and her anger sparked and ignited.

“I — we’re not talking about this here,” she breathed furiously, averting her eyes as she went to edge around him, but she didn’t get far: abruptly, apparently in agreement, Fiearius seized her forearm and turned to drag her down the hallway.

It was useless to strain against his hold, but Leta still fought his hard grip as he manhandled her all the way downstairs. He was taking them to the infirmary, she realized with a start, which was particularly insulting: not only was this an attack from a bully, but it was going to take place in her own backyard? The infirmary was her own godsdamn sanctuary. Fiearius certainly knew how to make a point.

And for that, she shot him a deathly glare and jerked her arm away once they’d made it inside. She circled away just as Fiearius slammed the door with a bang that filled the whole room.

“I’ll ask again then,” he began impatiently, his eyes coldly on her. He stepped into the now-silent room as she pressed her back against the counter. “When the hell were you gonna tell me?”

“Tell you what, exactly?” she spat. Her hands dug into the cold counter behind her. “What is it you think you know?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he remarked innocently, and then narrowed his glare, “maybe that you’ll be dead in a week?”

His words hit like a bullet in the chest and for a moment, she didn’t move. Six weeks, actually, replied the eerily calm voice in her mind, but all she said was, unclenching her throat, “I’ve got a little longer than a week. Lucky you.”

Her words hung in the air with a nasty sting that made Fiearius scoff in disbelief. “And how long have you been just not mentioning this? What, I’m not worth trusting with shit like this all of a sudden?”

“It’s not a matter of trusting you!” she cried, digging her hands into her hair. “I was going to tell you — when it made sense to. And I have plenty of reasons for not telling you. If you’d actually listen — “

Fiearius laughed, harsh and bitter. “Oh really? ‘Cause I can think of about thirty reasons you should have,” he barked as he halted in the center of the floor. Somehow his presence seemed to take up the whole room.

Swallowing hard in her throat, Leta paced a few steps before him. “I was stabbed in the fighting ring. Remember that?” she mused bitterly. “With a shoddy knife.” She crouched and yanked up the edge of her pantleg, exposing the seven-inch, thick scar that marred her calf. She could feel Fiearius staring at it, oddly, coldly silent, so she hurried on and stood up quickly, “It got infected. That’s why I’m sick. And that’s why I didn’t tell you. Because I was afraid you’d think it was your fault when it clearly isn’t,” she finished shortly.

Fiearius threw a hand in the air, instantly appalled. “Because I’d—what? Who the hell do you think I am? I don’t need you to fucking protect me.”

Leta ceased her pacing. “Look. I know you already blame yourself for Aiden’s death. This is the last thing you — “

Fiearius’ jaw unhinged. “Wait, what?” he demanded, incredulous and insulted; he looked ready to throw the nearest med cart across the room at the mention of Aiden’s name.

“But that’s nothing compared to this final charge,” she went on, gazing at her seriously. “Nothing compared to kidnapping.”

Leta stared avidly at the piece of paper. “Kidnapping?” She adopted a look of surprise. “Who’s been kidnapping? That sounds serious.”

“We certainly take it seriously. Stealing a nineteen-year-old girl from her home in the dead of the night is something we take very, very seriously.”

“I’m truly glad to hear that,” said Leta earnestly. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank gods that’s not what happened last night.”

“What, exactly, do you think happened?”

“I know what happened. The girl acted of her own free will when she came aboard and she can leave whenever she likes. I’m sure she’d tell you the same thing.”

Tiya leaned back in her chair, surveying Leta through narrowed slits of her eyes. Quite abruptly, she said, “That captain of yours. Soliveré. You trust him, do you?”

For the first time, Leta was given reason to pause. Her mind flashed back to when, months ago now, Fiearius threw himself in that fighting ring with her. Or later, the look on his face when he’d spoken at Aiden’s funeral. Or much more recently, the lopsided grin he’d cast her when he passed over a whiskey bottle and spilled his life story.

“Yes,” she stated quietly, “I do.”

Tiya arched her eyebrows high on her forehead. “You do, do you? Now that is touching. Foolish of you, but touching. You know, you don’t strike me as sentimental.”

“I’m not. But people can surprise you.”

“Indeed.” Tiya cocked her head to the side and abruptly slid the papers closer again. This time, her smile was eerie and broad. “And we know a few surprising things about you, Miss Adler, don’t we?”

Before Leta could begin to guess where this was going, Tiya flipped over the paper and darted her eyes over it. “Tell me. Does that captain you like so much know about your employers?”

Leta’s heart was beginning to flutter in her chest. But all she said was, her voice flat, “The hospital? Unity Healthcare Clinic? Sure.”

“No, no, not those employers, my dear.” She looked up, her smile glinting. “Does he know you work for the Society?“

Leta went very still, pressing her palms into the table. “I don’t,” she said, her first honest confession in the whole interrogation. “I don’t work for them.”

Tiya pressed her lips together and murmured, “No, hm? Says right here in their records that you do — “

“That’s not true,” said Leta at once, resisting the urge to snatch the paper out of her hands. “I’d never work for them again. Ever. I worked in their labs, but I left years ago — “

“And you think Soliveré will believe that?”

Her words sliced through the room and halted her in place. That was yet another thing Fiearius would probably never forgive her for, she thought, feeling a brush of hysteria.

“Of course he will,” she said quietly. Tiya’s eyes — it was infuriating — actually softened with pity.

“Listen,” she said, leaning over and patting her hand, “Listen, Leta. You tell us where Richelle Donovan is, and Soliveré will never hear from us that you’re working for the people who want him and his brother dead. How’s that sound, Miss Adler? We won’t tell him you’re a Society spy.”

Silence followed her words, and then Officer Tiya leaned over and carefully, painstakingly, unrolled Leta’s sleeve for her — exposing her own Society mark, which somehow looked brighter, shining. It was the mark she kept hidden beneath her sleeve since her first day aboard the Dionysian.

Leta looked down her arm, then up at the officer.

“I’m not a spy. Richelle wasn’t kidnapped, and you can tell him whatever you like,” she breathed at last.  “Tell him, go ahead. It doesn’t matter — it doesn’t even anymore.”

“Oh no? It doesn’t matter?” Tiya said, almost tauntingly. “Why — are you perhaps ready to confess? Or! Are you planning to leave that scum of a crew after all?”

Leta could have laughed. Or cried. All at once, she felt a wave of emotion so powerful that it exhausted her, and all she could do was mumble, “Yes, something like that.”

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” said Fiearius breezily, as if he and Aster were out to brunch and not two hours into this interrogation. Aster was seated across from him, practically tearing his hair out in frustration as Fiearius ignored his every question, kicking the edge of his foot against the floor cheerfully, “This is boring. Let’s talk about something else. You seen any good films lately?”

His words were met with a raw growl of frustration as Aster slapped the middle of the table. The gun was still sitting pointedly between them, untouched for now, though Aster kept inching his hand toward it and then seeming to decide against it and dug his hands into his hair instead.

“There were witnesses,” he insisted for what had to be the twentieth time. “They saw you put a gun to her head and heard you threaten to kill her and watched you drag her away.”

“That sounds like a good one. I always like a good kidnapping drama. What’s it called? I don’t have much time for theaters anymore, but if I get a chance,” said Fiearius through a laugh.

Aster’s face was growing redder and redder. He tightened his fist. “Listen. I’ve got a team searching your ship right now, tearing it apart piece by piece. Any second now they’ll return with enough evidence to put you to death. So — how about you make your confession now?”

“What confession?” Fiearius asked innocently.

“What confession?! How can you even–it’s irrefutable!”

“No it’s not.”

“It is! We have at least eight confirmed testimonies that all line up. We have security feed of you entering the building. We have feed of you leaving the building. With her,” he snapped.

“Not me,” Fiearius remarked shortly.

“Of course, we made a mistake,” Aster groaned sarcastically, leaning back in his chair so hard it nearly tipped over. “There are plenty of people who look just like you. You’re incredibly commonplace.” He gestured vaguely to Fiearius who just blinked back at him absently. “We just mistook you for someone else.”

“Great. So can I go now?”

Aster’s eyes scrunched, his fists clenched, his teeth bared and he shouted, “Just tell me where she is!”

Fiearius tilted his head curiously. “Where who is?”

“Richelle Donovan!”

“Who’s that?”

With a snarl, Aster suddenly pushed himself to his feet and pulled his gun with him. Fiearius followed the trajectory of the weapon curiously, his head tilted in interest. The Paraven police force wasn’t known for brutality, exactly, and there was simply no way this man had the authority to pull that trigger.

Still, it was quite a sight, watching this man struggle to release the safety mechanism of his gun (his hands were shaking with anger). He’d very nearly completed the gesture when the door behind him suddenly banged open, admitting another officer.

“Sir,” greeted the younger man. “We’ve got something you need to see.”

“Now, Shaw? Now?” cried Aster. “Can’t you see I’m — “

“Discussing arts and culture?” suggested Fiearius.

“ — busy?” finished Aster angrily. “Surely this can wait — “

“No. It can’t.” The young man lifted a slip of paper he held in his hand. “You’ll like this.”

Dropping the gun on the table, grumbling to himself, Aster joined the young man near the door. A few minutes passed in which they whispered back and forth, a murmured conversation. At last, Aster turned around, holding the paper in his hands.

Cyrus seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “How old is she?”

“Nineteen,” said Finn without missing a beat, pushing himself up to his feet and brushing sand off his chest. “Completely of age. I asked last night, don’t worry.”

“Nineteen? So Fiear was … babysitting her,” Leta put in innocently as Corra roared with laughter. “Wow, that’s so generous of you, captain.”

Fiearius glanced shortly at her, not particularly interested in their commentary on his little misstep. There was a much bigger issue he had yet to wrap his head around. Ignoring Leta, he caught Finn’s eye. “People were after me ‘cause of her? Why?”

“Ah … well,” began Finn, smirking uncertainly, “Think you might’ve accidentally kidnapped her, mate.”

As Fiearius stared at him, dumbfounded, Cyrus snorted and muttered, “Well that’s new.”

“Very new,” Leta agreed, “not everyday Fiear agrees to do something as nice as adopt a child — “

“In Fiear’s defense,” interrupted Finn loudly, raising his voice as if he were a lawyer on trial, “she is, in fact, as I said, nineteen. And more importantly, he was doing her a favor. Pretty sure she wanted to get away herself. He was helping.”

He gave Fiearius’ shoulder a brotherly shake. But then he glanced warily in Richelle’s direction and mumbled, “Really, though … probably should drop her back off somewhere … “

“Yeah, like at a daycare,” Leta snapped. Cyrus snorted.

Well, this was starting to get away from him now, wasn’t it? Fiearius ran his hand through his hair and sighed slowly. Before he even asked, he was nearly certain he knew the answer. But he had to ask it nonetheless. “And where did I find her exactly?”

“Out on the peninsula,” said Finn and, just to confirm Fiearius’ worst fears, “At Jodar Donovan’s estate. She’s his daughter.”

Of course, the one night he decided to take up kidnapping had to be the night he also decided to pay a drunken visit to the most powerful man in Paraven. And ‘steal’ his daughter. His nineteen year old daughter. Fiearius felt his stomach turn over with anger and disgust and absolute frustration. Just his fucking luck.

But there was still time to fix this. He could just give her back and run for it. Everything would be fine. If only–

Abruptly, he spun around and pointed up at the girl still standing firmly rooted at the top of the ramp. “You! Get off my ship!”

Richelle just planted herself more firmly and shouted back, “No! I’m not going back there!”

“Yes you are, get off my ship! Now!”

“You promised!” she cried. “You promised you’d take me away from here!”

“That was before I found out taking you away from here is likely to get me killed.” He took a firm step towards the ramp. “Get down here.”

Even from where he stood, he could see the tears starting to well in her eyes and her voice start to crack as she stepped further back into the ship and despaired, “You don’t know what it’s like. Being his daughter, it’s–I have to leave. I can’t go back there. I can’t.”

Fiearius closed his eyes, grimacing with anger, and, admittedly, pity. He certainly knew what it was like to feel hopeless and desperate. But then again, he also knew what it was like to be hunted by angry, powerful men who wanted you dead. And that second one was quite a bit worse.

“I don’t need another trouble-making runaway,” he snapped, any hint of sympathy falling from his voice. “Get. Off. My. Ship. Now.”

Even from this distance, her eyes were visibly shining with tears. She certainly looked every bit her (too young) age when she gave one last shriek of “No!” suddenly turned and fled into the depths ship.

A blank, awed silence followed her disappearance, at least until Fiearius let out a raw growl of frustration and pressed the heel of his palms into his eye sockets. This was just not his fucking day, was it?

And just to make things worse, Leta piped in, “Nice. Wonderful. We’ve now kidnapped a young innocent girl. Well, maybe that’ll make you think better about trying to pick up girls eleven years younger than — “

At last, Fiearius felt his anger boil over, and he spun around. “What’s the matter, doctor?” he taunted. “You jealous?”

Leta’s mouth fell open. “What, jealous?” she sputtered. “Of what, exactly?”

Fiearius cocked his eyebrow and couldn’t resisting muttering, “Oh I think you know of what.”

Everyone else was suddenly exchanging glances and looking away. Oblivious to their discomfort, Leta gasped at him, completely affronted, “You’re a pig, you know that? You really are.”

“Aw don’t be so hard on yourself,” he chided, tilting his head and frowning at her in false pity. “Can’t help what ya like.”

He knew he’d done it now: Corra looked shocked, Leta was agape, looking ready to slap him in the face. Her voice shook. “You — are a such a piece of sh — “

But he never found out what he was, exactly, as another powerful voice roared from the other end of the docks.

“There they are!”

Everyone went rigid. Fiearius spun around just in time to see them —  a dozen Paravian officers sweeping in, yelling orders, guns raised, shouting, “Under the statutes of Paravian ground laws, you, the crew of the visiting ship Dionysian, are placed under arrest. Hands where we can see them please.”