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It was a skyship

A skyship meant Mesarthim

And Mesarthim meant

Escape Escape froery From Skoyë’s tyranny and their father’s apathy, and lately—sharply—froefro a chicken for slaughter Kora was seventeen, Nova sixteen Their father could marry them off anytime he pleased The only reason he hadn’t yet was because Skoyë, their stepmother, was loath to lose her pair of slaves They did most of the work, and looked after their troupe of little half brothers, too Skoyë couldn’t keep theiven, not kept—or more like livestock to be sold, as any father of a desirable daughter on Rieva are And Kora and Nova were pretty enough, with their flax-fair hair and bright brown eyes They had delicate wrists that belied their strength, and though their figures were secret under layers of wool and uul hide, hips, at least, were hard to conceal They had curves enough to keep sleeping furs warm, and were known to be hard workers besides It wouldn’t be long By Deepwinter, surely, when the darkhoever er with each other

And it wasn’t just that they’d be split apart, or that they had no will to be wives The worst thing of all was the loss of the lie What lie?

This is not our life

For as long as they could remember, that hat they’d told each other, with and without words They had a way of looking at each other, a certain fixed intensity, that was as good as speaking it out loud When things were at their worst—in the hter, when it was carcass after carcass, or when Skoyë slapped them, or they ran out of food before they ran out of winter—they kept the lie burning between the here The Mesarthim will come back and choose us This is not our real life However bad things got, they had that to keep theirl instead of two it would have died out long ago, like a candle flame with just one hand to cup it But there were two of them, and between them they kept it alive, saw it mirrored in each other and borrowed faith back and forth, never alone and never defeated

They whispered at night of what gifts they would have They would be powerful like their mother, they were sure They were hters, and they would be whisked away to Aqa to train for battle and wear godsainst their skin, and when the tih a cut in the sky, to be heroes of the elaciers, and as beautiful as stars

But the years went by and no Mesarthim came, and the lie stretched thin, so that when they looked to each other for the faith they kept between thean to find fear instead What if this is our life after all?

Every year on Deepwinter’s Eve, Kora and Nova clie trail to watch the sun’s brief appearance, knowing it was the last they’d see of it for athe sun—not for a month, but forever

So the sight of that skyshipit was like the return of the light

Nova let out a whoop Kora laughed—with joy and deliverance andaccusation “Today?” she de, brilliant sound of her laughter rang across the beach “Really?”

“You couldn’t have co back, the sae of asperity They wereof guts and gases, and the Mesarthi the wet-hollow husks of half-butchered beasts and the clouds of stinging flies, the other women looked up, too Knives fell still Awe stirred in the slaughter-nuods the sun and searing spots into their vision

Mesarthim skyships were shaped by the minds of their captains, and this one was in the likeness of a wasp Its wings were knife-blade sleek, its head a tapered oval with two great orbs for eyes Its body, insect-like, was formed of a thorax and abdoer It flew overhead, aiht behind the rock palisade that sheltered the village from wind

Kora’s and Nova’s hearts were pounding They were giddy and shaking with thrill, nerves, reverence, hope, and vindication They swung their gaffs and knives, e, as they unclenched their fingers from the tools’ orn hafts, that they would never return to retrieve them

This is not our life

“What do you two think you’re doing?” Skoyë demanded as they stumbled toward the shore