"How many times have you flown?" asked Fabe for the third time.

"Enough," I said, flicking switches on the control panel and getting the sudden burst of energy you got from being good at something. "Springy gave me lessons. You're in good hands, Fabe." That burst of energy all but dissipated when I tried to remember where the accelerating gear was and my mind drew a blank. My hand hovered in mid-air.

Fabe bit his lip, as if to prevent himself from saying something that would hurt my feelings.

There was a click of a seat belt as Keenan strapped in next to me. "There's nothing to worry about, Fabian, especially with me as co-pilot," he added.

Tem would've been in that chair. We'd taken lessons with Springy together because when I was thirteen, Tem and I had found ourselves with nothing to do and pleaded for Springy to entertain us. I closed my eyes. Focus on flying; the pain can wait.

I was grateful that Keenan offered to be co-pilot, but troubled at the same time. Since the royal council meeting, Keenan's eyes always flared with something dark when we exchanged glances. It could be my imagination. I hoped it was. I hoped we could stay friends.

I shook the thought off and smiled at Fabe and Marylea, seated behind us. "Ready for take-off?" Marylea nodded, and Fabe just looked sick.

"You can trust me. But hold on anyway." I sucked in a deep breath and initiated the take-off process.

Take-off was bumpy at first, but with Keenan's help, we managed to ease us into smooth flight. It took about five minutes to stabilize; then I was able to turn on auto-pilot and let the airship take over. The Loki's wings flapped steadily on both sides; it felt like we were riding on a gargantuan butterfly. I exhaled, and only then realized that I'd been holding my breath. I turned around, and saw Marylea and Fabe clutching to their armrests, their knuckles white.

"For what it's worth," said Keenan, "I think you did a great job for a beginner." He flexed his knuckles to mask his anxiety.

A rush of gratitude surged through me, yet I also felt like a terrible person. After all the cruel things I said to him in the library, he still found time to say nice things to me. At the spur of the moment, I decided I owed him an apology. In a low voice, I said, "I'm sorry for what I said in the library."

Keenan's response was equally quiet. "I understand."

I sighed and watched clouds sail past, each painted with soft light by the morning sun.

"For what it's worth," I said, "You're one of my closest and dearest."

There was silence. I snuck a peek at Keenan. He met my gaze, and I saw none of the light his eyes usually held. "Thanks," he said, and shifted his gaze back to the front window.

I felt a lump in my throat. What could I have done to prevent his hurt? Nothing. What could I do to make this better? Also nothing.

I tightened my hold on the steering stick and stared straight ahead.

"Make yourselves comfortable," I said, looking at the blinking spot on the map that indicated our location. The Keeper Core was a blinking blue dot, miles away from us. "We'll be there soon enough."

***

A few hours later, the sandman must've snuck up on me and tied sandbags to my eyelids, because they refused to stay open. I had to pinch myself several times so I wouldn't nod off in the pilot's seat.

"You have a co-pilot, you know," said Keenan from the seat next to me. "Take a nap. I'll keep watch."

"I'm fine." I rubbed my eyes. "Go ahead and nap if you'd like to."

"Ash, I've been watching you for the past ten minutes. You want a nap, and you know it. I'm not tired. How about I wake you in a few hours? We'll take turns napping."

The nicer he was, the stronger the conscience gremlin in my heart gnawed. Would it kill him to quit being so nice to me?

Ah, well. He did have a point.

"Thanks, Keen," I said. "I'll just sleep here in case you need me." I let go of the steering stick and felt tension spring from my shoulders instantly. I hadn't noticed how tense I was until I let go of the controls. I kicked my sandals off and curled up on my side with my back facing Keenan. "See you in a few hours."

He said something that I couldn't hear. I was already well on my way to slumber land.

I was woken by a sharp cry.

"My head!" cried Fabe. "My sweet, tender head."

My head churned, the ship was rocking, and hell-raising shrieks came from outside the airship. Darkness surrounded us; thick clouds had blotted out the stars and moon. Fabe was screaming, Marylea was shouting "What's going on?" at no one in particular, and Keenan had one hand cupping his head, the other clenched over the steering stick. The air smelt vile, like someone had gone number two in all the chaos. I heard the distinct flapping of leathery wings.

"Partridge," I cried. "Where?" It was hard to form proper sentences when it felt like my head had been invaded by a swarm of bees.

"Starboard," said Keenan, looking up just enough to point to the right. His eyes were bloodshot.

Something hit the glass, something large. Hairline cracks formed on the windshield. The airship rattled. Fabe screamed even louder.

"Lea, quiet him down," I said. I gripped the steering stick and veered to the left, away from the Partridge.

Marylea's reply was one of panic. "He - he's shaking!"

I turned around to see Fabe convulsing in his seat. His eyes were rolled back into his head, leaving gnarly whites in his eye sockets.

Fear erupted inside of me.

"Unstrap him," I ordered. "Take him into the Partridge room."

"The what?"

"It's the padded room you asked about. Remember?"

Realization dawned on Marylea's face.

"Take him, now. Hurry! He'll recover in there. Stay inside until I come get you. Please."

I heard the clink of metal as Marylea unbuckled Fabe. She groaned under his weight. I thought about asking Keenan to help her, but I needed my co-pilot.

"I don't see the Partridge anywhere," said Keenan. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He winced as the Partridge pierced the air with yet another shriek.

Then a sharp triangular face loomed through the dark clouds before us. It had bat-like wings that spread to the width of the airship and a coat of shaggy fur. It looked like a bat had guzzled radioactive liquid and then mated with a mammoth. With its immense size, I had no doubt its wings could envelope us whole. Its sharp, leathery beak was headed straight for our windscreen.

I'd never seen a Partridge before. The last time I encountered one, I was cowering in the padded room the whole time, my head firmly tucked between my knees, Tem's arms wrapped around my back. I was sixteen, en-route to Jin Long for an emergency, and a baby Partridge had gotten lost from its nest and flown into our airspace. I hadn't seen what the Partridge looked like, but now I knew. I also knew how my parents had known the last one was a baby. The shrieks that pierced the air right now were a hundred times as loud and shook the ship like thunder from Mount Olympus.

"Hang tight," I cried, and pulled us into a sharp dive. I could only hope Marylea had gotten Fabe safely into the Partridge room.

Keenan and I were thrown back into our seats from the force. We dove for a few seconds before I yanked the steering stick and straightened us out. The keel of the ship brushed the forest canopy below.

I turned to Keenan. "You all right?"

He nodded shakily.

Then a loud crash rang from the hull. The Loki cried in agony. Its body rumbled like an overloaded dryer, as if it was coming apart. A red light flashed on my control panel below the words "Hull breached."

Then another loud crash resounded from starboard. More red lights came on. "Engine room breached."

Fear coursed through my veins, threatening to take over my body.

"We can't outfly the Partridge," said Keenan. "We're in its element."

The Partridge's pointy face emerged from the side of our windscreen.

"Then we have no choice," I said, and pulled the airship into a sharp dive.

The airship creaked and squealed. I focused on the faint outline of the canopy below us. A forest would provide cover from the Partridge.

"Are you sure?" asked Keenan.

"Trust me," I shouted over the noise.

"I do."

I held onto the steering stick like a vice. The airship vibrated ominously, like it was ready to split at the seams. It shook like a ship in a typhoon as we crashed into foliage. Sticks and leaves swatted at the windscreen, pissed at our invasion. I heard Keenan shout. Then the bottom bumped, hard, into solid ground, and I would've flown out of my seat if I wasn't held down by the seat belt that pulled taut.

We sat in our seats for a few seconds, catching our breaths. My collarbone throbbed, but otherwise I was fine.

"Never," said Keenan breathlessly, "let anyone doubt your flying ability."

I coughed a bitter laugh. "You're joking. We almost died."

"Through no fault of your own." He unbuckled himself. "Let's check on the others."

I sat in my chair for a while, dazed. My collarbone throbbed, and the vestiges of the Partridge-induced headache began to fade. The air no longer smelt vile, probably because we'd been soaking in it for so long.

One thought gnawed at the back of my mind.

Why was it that after a near-death situation, Keenan still had it in him to compliment me?