Chapter 14
A courier arrived at the ship three days later, carrying a sealed letter bearing Marcellus Finn's official stamp. I tore it open, my heart racing as I scanned the elegant script.
"Good news?" Kora asked, leaning against the ship's railing beside me.
"Better than good. Marcellus has been granted permission to meet with my father at the Dredge. Tomorrow morning." I read further, my pulse quickening. "And he says I can accompany him."
Kora's eyes widened. "The Dredge? They're actually letting civilians on board?"
"Apparently Marcellus has connections, and he is his client after all." I clutched the letter, hardly daring to believe it. After months of separation, I was finally going to see my father. "I need to tell my mom."
I was halfway to the gangplank when Cypher's voice stopped me.
"Tell her what?" He emerged from below deck.
I explained about the letter, watching his expression darken with each word. "You're not going alone," he said when I finished. His tone left no room for argument.
"Marcellus specifically said—"
"I don't care what your lawyer said." Cypher crossed his arms. "The Dredge is the most secure Assembly prison in existence. It's also crawling with guards who would love nothing more than to add another prisoner to their collection, especially a rift. I'm coming with you."
"This isn't your concern," I argued, frustration building. "It's family business."
"You are my concern as long as you stay on my ship. I'm not willing to risk you walking into danger alone." His expression softened slightly. "I'll stay in the background. Your father won't even know I'm there. But I am coming, and that's not negotiable."
Part of me wanted to fight him on principle. But another part—the part that remembered the crawlers and the krell and all the other dangers we'd faced—was relieved. "Fine. But you follow my lead with Marcellus."
"Agreed."
The Assembly skiff that carried us toward the Dredge the next morning was much nicer than the patched up one Kora and I used on our scavenging jobs. Marcellus sat across from me, reviewing documents from a leather portfolio, occasionally making notes.
Cypher stood at the bow, his posture rigid as he scanned the horizon. He'd been tense since dawn, barely speaking except to issue curt instructions to the crew before we departed. Something was bothering him beyond the obvious concerns, but whenever I tried to ask, he deflected.
"We're approaching the security perimeter," the skiff's pilot announced. "Please have your authorization documents ready for inspection."
Ahead, the Dredge loomed out of the perpetual dark of the Gallery's shallows—a massive structure that resembled a ship in name only.
Instead of wood and canvas, it was constructed entirely of dull gray steel, with fifteen distinct levels.
No sails adorned its exterior; instead, massive engines churned beneath it, powered by hundreds of anchor crystals, no doubt. Probably worth a fortune.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Marcellus said, following my gaze. "The most secure prison in all the realms. No one has ever escaped."
Cypher snorted, but looked away, still glaring and not speaking a word.
"How reassuring," I muttered.
We passed through three security checkpoints before finally docking at a small platform extended from the Dredge's fourth level. Guards in Assembly uniforms escorted us inside, their expressions impassive.
The interior was as cold and impersonal as the exterior, all steel and harsh lighting, with numbered doors lining endless corridors. Our footsteps echoed metallically as we followed our escort deeper into the structure.
Cypher walked slightly behind me, his eyes constantly moving, cataloging exits and guard positions. His hand never strayed far from the concealed dagger at his waist, the only weapon they'd allowed him to keep after a thorough search.
"Your father is being held on Level Eight," Marcellus informed me quietly. "Maximum security, but not isolation. That's a good sign. It means they don't consider him dangerous enough to warrant solitary confinement."
We were led through a series of security checks, each requiring guards to inspect us for weapons. The deeper we went, the more I felt like we were descending into the belly of some great metal beast.
"Level Eight," announced our lead guard as we stepped into a metal cage with ropes and a pulley system that would move you up and down between levels. The cage lurched downward with a stomach-dropping sensation.
Cypher shifted closer to me, his shoulder brushing mine. The contact was brief but reminded me I was not alone. His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle working beneath his skin, his eyes darting between the guards with barely disguised hostility.
The contraption stopped with a metallic groan, and the gates slid open to reveal another identical corridor.
This one had fewer doors, each one reinforced with thicker metal and more elaborate locking mechanisms. I'd never seen anything like it in my life.
This wasn't even a ship. This was a floating city.
"Cell block 8-C," the guard said, leading us toward a heavy door at the end of the hall. "Prisoner 4872 has been moved to the visitation area."
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. After months of separation, after everything I'd been through to reach this moment, I was finally going to see my father.
The visitation area was sparse. A single table chained to the floor, four chairs similarly anchored. A barrier divided the room made of air magic, likely controlled by one of the guards that stood at attention in each corner, their expressions utterly devoid of anything human.
"Wait here," our escort instructed. "Prisoner 4872 will be brought in momentarily."
Marcellus took a seat at the table, arranging his documents. I remained standing, too anxious to sit. Cypher positioned himself against the wall near the door, arms crossed, looking for all the world like a hired bodyguard rather than a fallen prince.
The door on the other side of the barrier slid open. And there he was.
My father looked smaller than I remembered.
His once-broad shoulders had narrowed, his frame diminished by weeks of prison rations.
His beard, always neatly trimmed before, now grew wild and streaked with more gray than I remembered.
But his eyes—those warm brown eyes that had watched over me my entire life—were unchanged, lighting up the moment they found mine.
"Junie," he breathed, his voice cracking on my name.
Something broke inside me. The wall I'd built to keep my emotions in check, the strength I'd maintained through Nytheris and void storms and everything else, it all crumbled at the sound of his voice.
I moved toward the barrier without thinking, my hand reaching out as if I could touch him through the air barrier. "Daddy…"
A guard stepped forward. "No contact with the barrier."
Marcellus cleared his throat. "I believe my documentation specified a physical meeting. No barriers."
The guards exchanged glances, then one nodded curtly.
The barrier shimmered and disappeared, leaving nothing between me and my father.
I flew into his arms. He was thinner, but his embrace was as strong as ever, his familiar scent of metal and polish still clinging to him beneath the institutional soap.
I buried my face against his shoulder as tears spilled freely down my cheeks, not caring who saw.
"My brave girl," he murmured into my hair, his own voice thick. "My beautiful, brave Junie."
For several minutes, we simply held each other. I couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but cling to him and let the tears fall. All the fear, all the desperation that had driven me across realms and through the void, released in a flood I couldn't control.
Finally, reluctantly, we separated enough to look at each other. Dad cupped my face in his weathered hands, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. "Let me look at you." His eyes searched mine, taking in every detail. "You've changed."
"So have you," I managed, my voice wobbling.
He smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The Dredge's accommodations leave something to be desired."
Marcellus cleared his throat politely. "Mr. Farren, I'm Marcellus Finn. I've been retained to secure your release."
Dad turned, keeping one arm around my shoulders as if afraid I might disappear. "Mr. Finn. Your reputation precedes you."
"We have much to discuss," Marcellus said, gesturing to the chairs. "But first, I'll give you a moment with your daughter."
As Marcellus stepped away to confer with the guards about something in his documentation, Dad's eyes shifted to Cypher, who still hadn't spoken a word. The tension radiating from him was almost palpable, his knuckles white where his hands gripped his crossed arms.
"And who is this?" Dad asked, sounding suddenly cautious.
"A friend," I said, not quite ready to explain everything. "He helped me... find what I needed to hire Mr. Finn."
Something passed across my father's face. "I see." He guided me to the table and we sat across from each other, his hands holding mine tightly. "Your mother? How is she?"
"Managing," I said. "The new tonics help, but she's not getting better."
"And you found enough money for both medicine and this?" He gestured toward Marcellus.
I nodded. "I took a job. A big one."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "What kind of job?"
I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Retrieval. For a collector."
"Juno…"
"I need you to trust me," I said firmly, leaning forward to meet his concerned gaze. "I know what I'm doing. This job was dangerous, yes, but it was worth it."
My father's weathered face creased with worry. "What kind of danger, Junie? What aren't you telling me?"
I glanced at Cypher, who remained stoic against the wall, then back to my father. "I traveled to Nytheris."
Dad's face went pale. "How did you even—"