“The little bugger nabbed it right out of my pocket. The Duchess would’ve been furious.”

“The Duchess thinks you’re dead.” Then, “I could always cut off his hands.”

Jax had felt a cold chill down his spine—and briefly wondered if, without hands, his curse would go away—before he realized how utterly stupid that was. He tried to twist out of her grip again. “Don’t touch me! Let go!”

So the tall woman did.

He stumbled back. He could try to escape, but he had the feeling they wouldn’t let him go. The optic-haired lady tucked the crest into a different, more-inner pocket and appraised him. She touched the goggles around his neck, much too big for him, and noticed the ring of hacking keys on his belt loop. He’d won them off some idiot in a Wicked Luck game the first night in Nevaeh. They underestimated a ten-year-old boy. Everyone did. “These are mighty fine for a street rat like you, darling. Orphan or runaway?”

“No one,” he had replied tightly.

“No one? What a pity.” Then she turned away with her partner, and they began down the market street, and for some reason his skin tingled as they left—as if something was passing him by that he would regret. They were talking about the mechanics of a ship, their ship, and it sounded like the same conversation from earlier when he pickpocketed her.

Before he could stop himself, he piped up, “A decompressor switch won’t work.”

The two women paused and turned back to him. He kept his eyes trained on the ground. What are you doing?

“Oh?” the tall woman asked.

He shook his head. “That’ll only limit the output to the main thrusters and make your ship slower. Cercian class, right? Maybe a level eight?”

“Seven,” the other woman said, her hair shifting from orange to red. “You know a lot about ships, darling.”

“My mother worked on the docks of . . .” He stopped himself. He couldn’t say Zenteli. If the Elder Court had put out a missing-person request on the newsfeeds, then it would surely clue them in. He had his silver hair tucked up into a black beanie and too-large gloves tied up to his elbows, so there would be no accidents, but he didn’t want to risk his truth-telling mouth to rat him out. So he said instead, “I was raised around ships.”

“Huh.” She looked at her partner and back at him again. “Say, would you want to come and look at my ship?”

“He’s a child, Sunshine,” the tall woman said.

“All the more extraordinary.” Then she looked back at him, yellows and blues bleeding deeper into her hair. “And if—only if—you can figure out what’s wrong with the old girl, I’ll take you on.”

“Take me . . . on?” He didn’t understand.

“I’ll teach you how to fly with the best of them. Better, in fact. I’ll teach you to be the best pilot in the kingdom. And you’ll have somewhere to sleep and food in your belly. It’ll be hard work, and it won’t be safe, but I don’t think you’re looking for safe.”