There was one floor between Roman’s room and the Fairmont’s roof, but Dorothy’s arms still burned when she finally pulled herself up and over, legs scrambling for purchase beneath her, desperate to take some of the weight from her arms. She stayed on all fours for a moment, gasping for breath. Only when her head stopped spinning did she bother to sit up.

The whole of New Seattle spun, dizzily, below her. The corpses of long-dead trees grew up from the black waters, their white bark reflecting the light of the moon so that they seemed to glow in the darkness. From where she sat, Dorothy could make out the flat concrete saucer that was all that remained of the Space Needle, the outlines of tall buildings, and the dull black of the water that was everywhere else.

She sighed and leaned back on her elbows. In her year of living in New Seattle, Dorothy had never quite gotten used to the skyline. It looked strange and futuristic and alien, as always. The only thing that felt familiar was the moon hanging above her, close enough that she almost thought she could reach up and pluck it out of the sky.

She lifted her face, staring up at that moon. Back when she’d been new to the Black Cirkus, she often came up to the roof to think. No one else in the gang would risk climbing so high. Other than Roman, of course.

A tear touched her cheek. She brushed it away with an angry flick of her hand, but another came after it, and another. Eventually she gave up and let them come. In all her life, she’d never felt as alone as she did right now. Even during those first terrible days back in 2076, when she’d crash-landed in the wrong time, she’d still had Roman. But, now, he was gone. He was gone, and Ash was gone, and the Chronology Protection Agency wanted nothing to do with her, and her gang had betrayed her.

A lump moved up Dorothy’s throat, making it hard to breathe.

She was without allies. Without hope. Without money.

For the first time in a long time, she found herself missing her mother.

“Stop it,” she told herself, opening her eyes again. She pressed her palms to her cheeks, sopping up her tears. She might not have allies or friends, but it wasn’t as though she didn’t know what to do. She’d been hopeless before, and she’d always found a way out, hadn’t she?

She just needed leverage.

There, she thought, I might just be in luck.