26 DAYS. 3 HOURS. 08 SECONDS.
When I returned home from walking Jemeena to the elevator building, I told an unhappy Phyllis I was leaving for a few weeks. Phyllis was so angry her face turned an entirely different shade of red and she snapped two fingernails from clenching her shaking fists too hard.
“What do you mean you’re leaving?”
“The princess and I are going on a little road trip to gather some parts”—the lie we came up with to tell anyone who asked—“but I’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”
“A couple of weeks?” she asked as she put the teapot back on the stove. “What in Seren’s name would take that long? We’re an island, for Seren’s sake.”
“It’s confiden?—”
“Confidential, yes, you’ve said.” Pouring a steaming cup of tea so large I worried she’d turn it into a lake, she said, “You cannot go, Cinderella.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled with some force. “I was not asking for your permission, Phyllis.” I placed a hand over hers, and she flinched. “This is my personal job. I’m not working for the garage right now. I’m twenty years old, so you only have control over Father’s garage and will, not me.”
“But, but, but?—”
“Good night, Phyllis.” I gently clicked the kitchen door shut and trotted to the bedroom I shared with Lapis and Lazuli.
“Cinderella!” they called out in unison.
I shivered in repulsion as I emptied my lungs of breath and opened the bedroom door. “Yes?”
They patted the space in between them on a bed, but the very thought of sitting between their overly perfumed bodies made my nose in protest. Instead, I sat on my bed opposite.
“What is it?”
They looked at each other, a perfect mirror image, and said, “We want you to take us with you.”
Thinking they must have been joking, I laughed, but upon seeing their frowning, upset faces, I realized they weren’t. “You can’t be serious? No. Absolutely not.” I spun around and crawled into bed.
“But,” Lazuli said, “we want to get some of that softening hair dye they only make in Prago.”
“Oh, please take us with you,” Lapis said. “We’ll stop bullying you?”
I chuckled. “Your bullying hasn’t bothered me in years. Now stop being so stupid and go to sleep.”
Lazuli threw a pillow at me—at least, I assumed it was her, since she had always been the pillow thrower. “At least pick us up some while you’re there,” she grumped. “Red and purple.”
I yawned and whispered, “I’m not even going to Prago City.” Stealing the pillow she threw, I added it to the lumpy flat thing that usually adorned my bed and snuggled down for the night, but a crinkle under my ear kept me awake. After I could hear the rhythmic sounds of their sleeping breaths, I pulled out the paper in the pillowcase. Dear Faryl. A love letter to her boyfriend.
How disgusting.
I unfolded the pages and scanned them under candlelight, but it wasn’t a love letter at all. She was trying to convince him to let her live with him in Prago City, to not force her to wait any longer. She was struggling, and clearly I had misunderstood what snippets of conversations I had overheard between the two of them. He didn’t think he was good enough for her.
I looked over at Lapis’s sleeping form on the bottom bunk and smiled. She just wanted to begin her life. Who was I to get in the way? If we ended up in Prago City, I’d deliver the letter myself.
The north gate was a dumping ground for level zero. It was the only open space we had, so we used it to store everyone’s old stuff for others to make use of. Waste not, want not, and all that jazz. Walking through it, however, never failed to remind me of the reality of living on floor zero. All the dirt, the crime, the crappy mixture of great compassion and great apathy—you could find it all in the dumping ground.
I hated coming here.
I grabbed IoN tight against my chest and yanked on the straps of my pack to keep it close as I hurried past piles of broken furniture, tattered clothes, and worn toys as fast as possible.
The north gate stood tall and imposing in the distance at ten floors high, the mold, moss, and grime sparser the higher up the concrete I looked. The gates themselves were a complicated contraption of cogs, steam lines, and pistons that worked seamlessly to keep any unwanted enemies out and the people in. A person needed the proper paperwork to get outside the gates, or be high enough in the food chain to forgo the security checks altogether, and I was hoping Princess Jemeena had thought about my lack of papers.
The security that manned the gates was extensive, and there was no sneaking past them. Trust me, I’d tried. When Dad died, I was distraught and wanted to get away from Phyllis, so I tried to leave. Safe to say I was arrested for kicking an armed officer in the junk, and Phyllis wasn’t too happy having to pay my fines. This time, the guards considered me with wary eyes, but they mostly went about their business of talking crap and checking their weapons.
I waited patiently, hoping Jemeena was on this side of the north gate, because there was no way I was getting out of here without her. I didn’t have to wait long before a girl with flowing black hair and knee-high boots, all wrapped up in a silk cloak that billowed in the breeze, stormed my way.
“Princess,” I said, bowing my head lightly.
“Pshh”—she whacked me on the arm—“we passed title politeness when I cried in your arms right upon meeting you.” She laughed, but the tinge of red smattered across her cheeks told me she still hated that memory. “Call me Meena.”
“Meena?”
She shrugged. “I was just using it as an alias, but I like it.”
“Meena it is. So, Meena, do you have a plan to get me past the guards, because I have no travel paperwork.”
She looked at me with utter bewilderment for a few moments before doubling over and cracking up. “Oh, El, you are a funny one.” She slipped her arm through mine and dragged us to the gates. “A princess does not need travel papers.” She shook her head and yanked her hood down.
“Princess,” the guards all said at once, stumbling over themselves. “What are you doing on this floor?”
“Leaving the city on an urgent errand. Please open the gates. Our escort waits on the other side.”
“Very well,” the one at the front said as he rose from his bow. He turned to the slew of guards behind him and yelled, “Open the gates!”
The guards sprinted to their stations and each cranked wheels and handles in a complicated series of movements like a rehearsed dance. The doors hissed, groaned, and heaved, but the cogs eventually started turning, the pistons moved with increasing fervor, and the steam lines chugged power from the bottom to the top.
Then, the first crack of real light hitting floor zero washed over me. For a moment, I forgot all about the princess’s oncoming death, IoN’s mysterious personality, and the orphan status that hung over my head like a stubborn raincloud, and I breathed in deep at the sun that stung my eyes. I turned back to look at the dumping ground dappled in light that breathed life into an otherwise lifeless air.
“It looks so...bright,” I whispered. “Less dirty, more like...home.” And it was true. It did. Without the endless darkness that pervaded the entirety of floor zero, it looked almost lively.
“Things usually do when you take an honest look at them.” She turned me around. “Come on. We do not want to be late.” She walked on ahead.
“Late?” I asked as I jogged to catch up. “Late for what?”
“Our escort.” We walked through the gates, and she gestured to the giant dirigible hovering a few hundred feet above ground, running and ready to fly.
“We’re flying in a dirigible?” A gentle buzz of excitement powered through me.
I tried hard to contain it, but I think she might have spotted it anyway because she laughed and said, “You didn’t think we were walking around the island, did you?”
“I assumed we’d get a steamer to take us,” I mumbled. “But this”—I gestured to the giant white dirigible in front of us—“is miles better.”
“There are perks to being hired by royalty, you know. Including having the princess escort you wherever you need in her personal, private dirigible.”
“Well, then sign me up for future jobs, because I could get used to a life like this.”
We both laughed as we walked to the entrance platform lying flat on the dusty ground. It connected to the dirigible by a pole that ascended the moment we secured our hands to it.
“This is just like the elevators!” I shouted above the high winds the engine gave off. “It’s amazing! Look at the cogs and how they move something this huge...”
“You are such a nerd, El,” the princess shouted back, but she coughed and hacked up a small smattering of blood into her hand.
I tore a piece of my coveralls’ sleeve off and wrapped it around her face, hoping it would keep the desert’s dust out of her fragile system. “There!”
She nodded, still struggling not to cough. She’d turned pale despite the morning sunlight glowing up her tan, and I worried she wouldn’t make it another week out here. Instead of wondering myself to death about it, I yanked her right wrist and lifted the golden silk wrap off.
Twenty-five days still left.
Relief washed through me despite the needlessness: Nothing can change a lifeclock’s numbers.
Once the platform had floated all the way up and locked into place, I looked around. The dirigible was huge on the inside, but it wasn’t particularly homey. This was what the princess had chosen? I thought royalty would choose something a bit...I don’t know...plushier?
“It’s an airship, El,” Jemeena said while holding back another cough. “It’s not a cruise liner.” She held a hand to her material-covered mouth and grimaced.
“What’s a cruise liner?”
“It’s a ship for the air that carries hundreds of people, and?—”
She coughed up a storm once again, and I had to catch her when she stumbled. “Stop talking for a moment.” I pointed in all the directions we could go and asked, “Which way to your accommodations?”
She pointed to a corridor lined with steel walls and leaned on my shoulder.
IoN woke up and headed that way, scoping everything out for us, no doubt.
I plodded along after him, half carrying Meena and half dragging her. “Come on,” I whispered. “Work with me here. Do not make me bridal carry you the entire way.”
She muffled a giggle and began putting one foot in front of the other, guiding her body’s movements a bit more.
“There you go.”
IoN whizzed back toward us. “It is not much farther.”
“Okay, thank you,” I said. “Could you open the door for us, please?”
I gripped her waist tighter and took more of her weight after IoN flew off again, but she kept trying to hold herself up. “Stop trying to resist help, you moron. Let me help you, or so help me Seren, I will not hesitate to bridal carry you all the way to your room.”
“You shouldn’t . . . talk that . . . way to a . . . princess.”
“Since when have you cared about your royal status? Now stop being so stubborn and accept help from a friend.” Friend? At what point did she move from client to friend? When did I start looking at her like she’s someone I want to remain close to? When she saved IoN, when she cried in my arms upon first meeting, or when I saw her on my dusty garage floor looking through Dad’s old junk and realized she looked good in my life?
She stopped struggling at that and let me hold more of her weight, but she was eerily silent—not even looking at me.
“Everything okay?” I asked. “You know, besides coughing up half a lung?”
“Err...yes,” she wheezed. “It’s just...you see me as a friend?” She paused a few feet from the doorway IoN hovered in and had another coughing fit, doubling over and bracing her back against the wall.
“Of course,” I whispered, rubbing her arm. “Why else would I agree to go on an almost pointless cross-country trip with a stuck-up royal?” My voice dripping with sarcasm, I winked at her.
She lifted her head up and met my gaze. “Oh, I don’t know. I thought maybe you were here for all the interesting technology you’d get to use.” She’d gotten some breath back and could now at least talk in full sentences, even if they were sounding weak and breathy.
“Well, there’s that too.”
I got the princess into her cabin—which was larger than my entire apartment back in the city—and forced her into bed to rest. After all that desert sand, she needed it. I left IoN with her in case she needed anything, then headed out to explore the dirigible.
I thought it odd we hadn’t been greeted upon arrival or something, given that one of their passengers was the princess, but I was sure if I could find the command deck, I would be able to see what was going on.
The dirigible was made of a lattice of corridors that crisscrossed all over the place, with the only kind of signage a complex series of numbers I could make neither heads nor tails of. After about five or six twists and turns and lefts and rights, I was well and truly lost. I’d even descended some kind of staircase at one point, but it just led me to more crisscrossing corridors.
I occasionally passed a servant or worker, but they all seemed much too busy to deal with me. Plus, I probably just looked like another engineer to them. What I wouldn’t give to see the engineering deck of this thing. I bet it was hug?—
“Excuse me?” a rough voice said from behind me. “Do you need some help?”
I spun to face him and found myself gazing into steel-colored eyes that matched the ship.
“Err . . . I’m a little lost.”
“I can see that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Need to get back to your station on the engineering deck?”
“Oh, no.” I cleared my throat. “My name is Cinderella, and I’m here with the princess. I was trying to find someone to greet or get some direction to the command deck.”
He blanched and stuttered, “I-I’m so sorry.” He bowed his head at me—which made me feel ridiculous—and said, “Come with me, Lady Ferning. We’ll get you to the captain in no time.” He held out his arm for me to take.
I took it and let him guide me back the way I had come and up four flights of stairs before knocking on a plain door.
“This is the command deck,” he whispered. “The captain and flight assistants are inside.”
The door swung open revealing a surprised woman with a captain’s cap atop long brown tresses that trailed down to her waist. “Yes?” She wore a brown leather jacket that had seen better days over a corset accentuating her waist, tight, brown trousers, and she had straps to hold various things to her person.
The mysterious man who had guided me here cleared his throat and announced, “This is Lady Ferning. She was lost and looking for you.”
“Oh!” The captain beamed and flushed red. “I’m sorry, Lady Ferning, I was not told you had both boarded.” She threw a stern glance at someone behind her but then returned to me. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” She held out her hand.
“Thank you.” I shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
She ushered me inside, and my guide turned to leave.
“You’ll have to excuse the princess; she was feeling unwell upon boarding.”
The captain’s eyes snapped to me. “Is she okay?” Her brow creased and her lips frowned. “I know of her illness. We’re...friends.”
“She’ll be okay.”
“Well, welcome to the command deck, I guess.” She pointed to a plush seating area over on the right behind the important control centers. “That’s where we allow our guests to join us up here.”
“Of course.”
I headed that way, but she grabbed my arm. “Please, let me introduce you to the flight crew first.”
“Oh, of course.” I bowed my head slightly. “Forgive me, I’m not from these upper circles.”
“So I’ve heard,” she said in an odd tone of voice. “C’mon!”
She guided me down the few steps to the central command deck and introduced everyone from left to right, starting with the crew commander. He was a portly fellow with a rotund middle and graying hair, but when he turned to say hello, he only grimaced and went back to taking notes and making various announcements over the radio. Next were the dirigible’s military commanders: a pair of twins with bright blonde hair. Lilly was in charge of offense while Layla was in charge of defense. Together, they protected the airship and its passengers in all kinds of situations. Truthfully, they reminded me of Lapis and Lazuli; I bet they would make excellent military commanders after the proper training. And, finally, the captain’s second in command, Yolot—a dark-skinned man who spoke with an accent I hadn’t heard before.
“And that’s where I sit”—she pointed to a seat in the center of the semicircular deck—“at the helm.” There were a complicated series of buttons and levers in front of her chair, but she seemed to know what she was doing.
It was all so overwhelming. I wanted to ask a million questions about how the dirigible worked and what protocols were in place for errors or things going wrong, but no matter how many times I tried to force the words out, my mouth remained devoid of them.
“I can see you need a moment.” She guided me to the lounge area behind the central command deck and sat me down. “Tea?”
“Toffee, if you have it?” I still stared at the deck in front of me in awe. “This is all so amazing.”
She sat next to me with a steaming cup of toffee, which I took from her. “Yes, the dirigible is a wondrous feat of technology, isn’t it?”
I swallowed my first sip and breathed in contentment. “It’s just...I could never imagine designing something like it—or fixing it, for that matter.”
The captain placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s fixed by a team, rather than one person. And this model was designed by Zimeon at Zime Industries.” Her brown hair bounced as she laughed at my face. “I know, he’s brilliant.”
He’d tried to steal IoN, so how brilliant was he really? Well, objectively speaking, his mind must be a wondrous place—shame about his lack of morals. “More than brilliant,” I responded, a hint of that wonder still evident in my voice.
It didn’t go unnoticed by the captain, who smirked at my obvious embarrassment. “Yeah, you’d lose that wistful look in your eyes if you met him. He’s a real trollop.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
She laughed some more and gripped her hands together on her lap. “The princess and you are pretty close, no?”
“We’ve known each other less than a week, but...yeah, I guess we are kinda close.”
Her eyes widened with shock. “Less than a week?”
“Yeah . . . Why?”
She spluttered a moment and her cheeks turned red. “No reason.”
“Oh, c’mon, spill it.” I put my cup down and folded my arms over my chest. “Don’t leave me out of the loop.”
She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “It’s nothing, honestly. I just thought you’d known each other longer with the way she talks about you.”
“She talks about me?”
“Yes. Says you’ve got a brilliant mind.”
“She . . . said that?” About me? “But I’ve not done anything.”
She gestured to me. “You must have done something, because the princess is not an easy person to impress.”
But she was impressed by me? I was no one—a small-time barely engineer on level zero with no money and no friends. I wasn’t worthy of her impression.
The door to the command deck opened, and the woman in question walked through with freshly painted makeup and newly curled hair, looking like the princess she was always supposed to be. “So,” she said, smirking at the two of us, “this is where I find you both.” She came and sat down after giving a brief hello to the crew—who all bowed. “How are you?”
She looked genuinely concerned, and I didn’t quite know why. “I’m fine, thank you?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I was just worried you might have gotten lost without me guiding you.”
“Oh,” I said, blushing. “No, er... I mean, I did. But some crew member found me and escorted me here, where I met our captain and crew.” I hid my face behind my teacup and internally scorned myself for stumbling over a simple sentence.
“Ah, well that was lucky.” She got up and poured herself a cup of mint tea before sitting back down on the captain’s other side. “I was worried you might not have found your way around my airship.”
“ Your airship?” I looked at the dirigible in a whole new light, but I could see it now. How this dark, mysterious piece of machinery belonged to her. It wasn’t fancy or full of pompous social rituals. It just was.
“Yes. I had that giant oaf design it for me.” She gulped her tea with gusto before adding, “Cost me a pretty penny too.” She gestured to the captain. “Captain Hera here is a good friend of mine.”
The captain looked crestfallen at the term of endearment. Who could be annoyed at being friends with Meena?
“She looks to be a very capable captain, Meena.” I angled to look at Captain Hera, but the look of hatred that flashed across Hera’s face before the practiced smile came back into play had me halting all pretenses of social decorum. “And at the very least a lovely...person.” My voice dropped at the end, and even I winced at the hesitation that filtered through. I shot up out of my seat. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m going to get some rest before we depart.”
“Oh,” Meena said, disappointment flashing in her eyes, “very well. Your quarters are right next to mine. IoN’s there now.”
I turned to them both and bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
What the hell was that?
I charged straight to my room, just about remembering all the twists and turns from earlier, and lay on the silk sheets in the nicest space I’d ever set foot in, much less called my own—even if only temporarily. The wooden armoire across from the bed had vines carved into it and an ornate mirror that reflected my visage perfectly; the rugs covering the metal floors seemed denser and had a more complicated pattern than I had seen before too.
Captain Hera had done nothing to offend me, yet I was hesitant and rude. I needed to apologize the first chance I got.
In the meantime, I’d rest here until the dirigible took off. I wanted to watch our ascent from the command deck with the big windows, Hera be damned. I bet the world looked amazing from up in the air. I hoped I didn’t get motion sick. That would spoil the entire trip.
I shook my head. I shouldn’t keep referring to this as a trip. It was important that we followed in my father’s footsteps, since the princess’s life could rely on it, but this was the adventure of a lifetime for me, and I wasn’t going to miss a single moment.
Previously unattainable knowledge was just on the horizon. I could feel it. And I planned to grasp it with both hands and never let go.
“Are you feeling all right, El?” IoN asked. “It has been an eventful week. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed.”
“I just... This is everything I’ve ever wanted.” I sat up and rested on the headboard. “The answer to every question I’ve ever had. The chance to make friends. The chance to hold more knowledge than any engineer in our city.”
“And that is causing you concern?” He hovered by my face for a moment before settling into my lap.
“What if I mess it up?” I fiddled with one of his antennae, which he used to see all of his surroundings and not just the things in front of him. “What if I’m not good enough?”
“El, you do not need to be in your father’s shadow your entire life. You’re allowed to be yourself. You are allowed to make mistakes and grow. In fact, it is the whole point of the human existence.” He pointed at the numbers represented by the hands of my lifeclock. “All this means is that one day you will die. It does not stop you from living.”
The door creaked open. “Is that really what you believe, IoN?” the princess asked.
I shot up and IoN hovered, neither of us knowing what to say. “I am sorry, Princess. Forgive me. I did not know you were there.”
She waved a hand at him as she walked in. “Don’t be so silly. Both of you.” She shot me a stern glare. “You are allowed to be yourselves in front of me, regardless of this.” She pointed to her own lifeclock. “It does not change who I am.”
“Very well, Princess,” IoN said. “Then, if I may...” He floated over to her. “Yes, I really do believe that the number means nothing. It does not change how you live your life; it only states a fact you already know: One day you will die.”
“In twenty-five days, to be exact.” She sat on the edge of my bed not three feet away, but by the look on her face and the distance in her eyes, she might as well have been a hundred miles away.
I couldn’t imagine the pain of knowing you were going to die in under four weeks. The fear she must be feeling.
I crawled across the bed and sat next to her. “Want to talk about it?”
She opened her mouth but closed it. Eventually, she tried again. “One would think you grow used to the idea of dying young. I have known my entire life that I would not make it to my twenty-first birthday, so I thought I would not be scared. That I would meet death with honor and grace. As a princess should.” Silent tears slid down her cheeks and her shoulders shook. “But instead, I can barely sleep, eat, or function because I am so scared of leaving my family, my city, and my friends”— her watery green eyes pierced through me, and I shuddered—“behind.”
“I can’t even imagine, Meena.” I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “But even if it’s just for twenty-five days, I’m right here.”
A sea of people surrounded this girl every day, and yet she always looked lonely. How many friends did she honestly have? And how many of them were genuine?
Sitting on the finest bed I had ever parked my butt on, in a room bigger than our entire apartment, I made a vow I knew I could never break. “I won’t let you die alone, Meena.” I took a deep breath and grabbed both sides of her tear-stained face. “No matter what happens, no matter how hard or difficult it might be, I will not let you die alone.”
“Y-y-you... Really?” She looked at me with such fearful reverence I worried she might die of some kind of emotional attack before she managed to make it through her last twenty-five days. “I...Thank you.”
I grabbed her hands and pulled her into me. Her arms wrapped around my chest as she breathed into the crook of my neck, taking a deep breath. “No need to thank me, Meena. Ever.” I rubbed circles on her back. “Not for this.”
We stayed like that until she eventually dried her tears using a handkerchief I was sure would pay for a week’s worth of food back home. “I am quite sorry, El.” She bowed slightly and said, “I did not mean to impose upon you.”
I tapped her on the shoulder and scowled. “Don’t do that.”
She flinched. “Do what?”
I gestured to her rigid posture and emotional mask and said, “That. Don’t hide it all and shut yourself away in the process.” I grabbed her hands. “Not with me.”
She sniffed one last time. “Okay.” She shot me a devilish grin. “So, spill it.” She looked at me with a stern eye. “What happened back on the command deck?”
I groaned and fell back onto the bed in a huff. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll apologize the moment I see her again. I promise.”
She laughed and shook her head before lying down next to me. “That was not what I asked.”
I groaned, unsure how to answer. “I don’t know. She just looked at me like I’d spat in her perfectly steamed teacup.” I shuddered at the memory of that expression. “And I got...defensive.”
“Over what?” She looked at me with a shy expression on her perfect face, and I got the feeling she already knew but wanted me to say it out loud.
I didn’t know if I could. Not yet. “Um...I don’t know.” I shrugged. “She just rubbed me the wrong way, I guess.”
Meena looked disappointed and stood. “Come on, El. Let’s go watch the dirigible’s ascent.”
I jumped to my feet and let out a squeal of excitement. “Yes, yes, yes!”
“You are like a child today.” She shook her head, but I could see the glee behind the scolding. “But you’ll see Hera there and can apologize.” She shot me a withering look that could cut glass.
I shivered. “Yes, Princess.” I even bowed my head a little. “Let’s go, then!” I grabbed her hand and IoN, then dragged them both back toward the command deck. “I really wanna see the ascent.”
We traveled at a reasonable pace, despite my legs clearly wanting to sprint there. I knew Meena couldn’t run, not so soon after the desert dust had affected her lungs.
“Meena?” When she looked my way, I asked, “What is wrong with you?” I waved at her lifeclock. “Besides dying in twenty-five days,” I whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear me.
“It is a lung condition that affects my breathing. They’ve been slowly collapsing my entire life. Only one is fully functioning now.”
Damn. Her lungs were collapsing? “That’s why you get so out of breath and cough up blood occasionally?”
She nodded.
“I’m so sorry.” I moved us on, determined to not let this change our friendship.
We’d only known each other a few days, but this woman was the closest I’d ever had to a friend as an adult—other than IoN. It was a shame she would die in twenty-five days. What would I do then? Shit. What would I do? Go back to normal? As though nothing happened? No. That would be...impossible.
Meena walked up to the command deck’s door and pushed it open without knocking—perks of royalty, I guess—and walked to the deck’s lounge. Captain Hera sat at her station, barking commands to the rest of the crew, and they followed without hesitation or question. She was...powerful.
“She’s incredible,” I whispered as I sat beside Meena.
“I know.” She chuckled. “She really knows how to take charge.” Meena blushed a deep crimson.
“What,” I started, “is that about?” I raised my eyebrows in that gossipy way she did whenever she wanted juicy information from me. Oh, how the tables had turned.
“N-nothing,” she stammered.
“Really?” I looped my arm through hers. “That why you look like a ripe tomato right now, huh?”
She blushed harder, and I laughed. She was too much fun to mess with.
“We used to...casually date when we were younger.” She cleared her throat. “But it was a long time ago.”
“Not still an . . . item?” I inquired.
She shook her head. “Not in years, no.”
“El,” IoN said from his place on the table, “we are about to rise, I believe.” Just as he finished his sentence, the entire machine and all of my surroundings vibrated as steam power ran the engines throughout the dirigible’s lower levels.
“Oh my Seren,” I gasped. I stood and ran to the edge of the lounge, getting as good a view as I could.
Commander Hera looked over at me. She tried to yell something, but I couldn’t hear. Instead, she waved me over. I didn’t think twice. I ran to her and leaned in to listen. “Wanna watch from the best seat in the house?” She gestured to the captain’s chair.
I shrunk. I couldn’t sit there. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly?—”
“Shush.” She grabbed my wrist and twirled me around before pushing my shoulders into her chair. “I can do my job standing up.” I guessed this was her way of apologizing.
The dirigible lifted off the ground with a grumble, and the feeling of floating enraptured me as we rose higher and higher into the sky. The desert below us was soon nothing more than a wash of golden sand amid a world of blue wonder. I stood and walked to the window wall that marked the front of the command deck and pointed to the city beside us. “It’s so small,” I said as the twenty-first floor disappeared beneath us.
Small hands wrapped around my waist from behind as Meena whispered, “This has always been one of my favorite views.”
“Really?”
“Everything seems so small and trivial from up here: the city’s level system, the social division, the people. Even the castle.”
I breathed it all in and let out a shudder as our home city flew out of view. “It’s all so...beautiful.”
“The world’s a big place.” Meena twirled me around to face her. “One day, I hope you get to see more of it.”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. “We’ll do it together.”
“I would like that very much.”