Her breath came out in puffs of frost. It was so cold on the ship, she doubted the other prisoners could spend very long here without turning into human ice cubes. She shivered, darting her eyes from one Messier to the other, trying to formulate how to escape. If her hands weren’t tied, she’d have a lot more options. She could try to disable one—but then the other five would take her down. Her fingers were almost numb from the cold already.

The last time she’d been this cold, she and Di had taken shore leave to one of the frozen cities of Iliad, a small town that specialized in ice sculptures and ship graveyards. The Dossier had been in a fight that took out two of its sails, so while Jax and the captain went to salvage replacements, Ana and Di had some shore leave and a laundry list of parts to get for repairs. It had been only a year and a half ago, but it felt like decades. With the last of her coppers, she’d splurged on a small cup of hot wine, of which Di had greatly disapproved.

“Well, fine then—if you could buy anything, what would you buy?” she had countered.

“Books,” he had replied.

“Seriously? You read them once and then you put them on a shelf to take up space. Forever.”

“And to reference later,” he had argued, “and reread.”

“You have a photographic memory, Di.”

“They are also adequate weapons. They also smell nice.”

“You can’t smell.”

He’d cocked his head, as if it confused him. “Oh. Then perhaps I would like their smell.”

She had rolled her eyes. “Why not spend your coppers on something useful?”

“Such as?”

“Such as . . .” She had thought for a moment, sipping the hot wine as it warmed her hands. “Oh! What about that new service bot the captain’s been eyeing?”

He had turned his moonlit eyes to her. “You are not serious.”

“Why not? The bot’ll cut your work time in half! It’ll give you more time to reread. And,” she had added happily, “it’s adorable.”

He had looked away. Not angrily, but in a way that she knew meant he wanted this conversation to end. “I am ninety-seven-point-three percent sure this can opener will be of no help to me. I am incredibly useful without it.”

Ana had frowned. “. . . I hurt your feelings, didn’t I?”

“I highly doubt you could find a mere bot as apt as me.”

“You think we’ll replace you.”

He had come to a stop in the middle of the market, people in thick fur-lined cloaks scurrying about them. Snow fell and crusted on her eyelashes and in her dark braided hair, and frosted over his metal skin. He gave her one of his many unreadable looks. “You would never replace me.”

“Oh? That confident, are you?” she had joked.

“Yes. Because I am yours.”

“That’s silly.” She tried to dismiss him, feeling her cheeks getting hot. She told herself it was because she was embarrassed.