Yells and the clatter of boots on the metal steps echoed down the stairwell behind Klara. She couldn’t believe this was nothing more than a setup. And for what? To tell her to run? Klara wanted to scream, to lash out, to smash something. But instead she continued to sprint through the airship.

  They burst into the hold with impossible speed and Mikhail pushed past her, charging straight for the vast hole in the door.

  Suddenly, he froze, mid-stride, and Klara jerked to a stop behind him.

  “What?” she asked through gritted teeth. Sovereign Sculptor, her arm hurt.

  “How are you going to climb back to Vera’s Revenge?”

  The blood drained from Klara’s face.

  “There’s no way you can climb with that arm,” Mikhail said.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I? We’re out of time and options.”

  She reached the open hatchway. Mikhail was right. How the depths was she going to handle this? She lifted her left arm, testing her grip. Nothing. Even with strength extract, she could barely close her fingers. The polar wind lashed at her exposed face. She was a cursed fool for taking off her half-mask, too… “I’ll stay here and hold them off, Mikhail. You escape.”

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  Mikhail snorted. “Don’t be an idiot.” He stepped up to the door and put his back to her, watching her over his shoulder, his black eyes certain above his predatory half-mask. “You’ve got one good arm, so hang onto my back.”

  “I’m twice your size, I’ll drag you down.”

  “Trinity. Now stop whining or I’ll throw you out.”

  Klara stared from his back to the stairwell. The Alchemist soldiers still hadn’t arrived. If they were on Trinity, for some reason they weren’t using speed.

  “Get on!”

  “Fine,” Klara snapped, tugging her goggles up from around her neck—at least she’d kept those—then looping her good arm over his shoulder and clutching his chest. Mikhail grunted as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. However, Trinity enabled him to maintain perfect balance despite her size and weight.

  He turned, donned his goggles, and stepped back, letting her hang over open air.

  “Mikhail?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t fall.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  The guards burst into the hold, gas rifles raised.

  Mikhail stepped back.

  They fired.

  Klara’s stomach shot to her mouth—

  —then slammed back into her gut as they jolted to a halt as Mikhail grabbed the doorframe. With strength boosted movements, he hauled them along the ridge they’d walked in on. He covered ground swiftly, and soon they were around the corner of the gondola, out of the range of any Alchemist soldier who might take shots at them from the hatchway.

  Klara twisted, scouring the… empty sky behind them. She frowned. “Where is Vera’s Revenge?”