almost unendurable. But he felt that to do so would be to shatter something that had been built between them, some delicate and fragile understanding. He knew what she'd been through in those years they'd been apart. The touch of a man, any man, would most likely not be welcome. And he had no right to her, anyway, after what he'd done. As hard as it was to stop himself, it would be worse if she rejected him, or coldly suffered his embrace.
So he didn't reach out to her, as much as he was desperate to. He resisted, for her.
'You came after me,' she said quietly. 'Even after all my cruelties. You didn't let me go.'
Frey didn't know what to say to that.
'You won't stop trying, will you? No matter what I do.'
'No.'
Slowly, tentatively, she raised her hand, brushed her fingertips down his chest. She stared at the buttons of his coat, as if contemplating them fiercely. Then she slipped closer, and pressed her body against him. Her arms slipped around his waist, and her head leaned against his shoulder. She breathed in the smell of his coat and sighed.
'Don't,' she said.
It was as if it had only been minutes since he'd last held her, instead of a decade and more. The feel of her was familiar and new all at once. She fitted into him perfectly. For a few precious moments, everything was tranquil, and a wonderful peace spread through him. Then, as if afraid to let it last, she stepped away from him. She gave him one last look, and there was something of sadness in her gaze, but something of happiness too. Then she left him.
He stood in the empty cargo hold, staring after her. Back she went, back to the Delirium Trigger, back to being the pirate queen whose body she inhabited. He knew he should have felt bereft, but he didn't. Instead, a broad smile broke out on his face.
There was hope. After all this time, there was hope. The thought of it lit him up on the inside.
His friends were alive and well and together again. His craft had been made over, better than new. The drunks were singing his praises in every tavern from here to the Samarlan border. And maybe, just maybe, Trinica didn't want to kill him any more.
'Frey, my boy,' he said to himself. 'Things are looking up.'
Darian Frey is down on his luck. He can barely keep his squabbling crew fed and his rickety aircraft in the sky. Even the simplest robberies seem to go wrong. It's getting so a man can't make a dishonest living any more.
Enter Captain Grist. He's heard about a crashed aircraft laden with the treasures of a lost civilisation, and he needs Frey's help to get it. There's only one problem. The craft is lying in the trackless heart of a remote island, populated by giant beasts and subhuman monsters.
Dangerous, yes. Suicidal, perhaps. Still, Frey's never let common sense get in the way of a fortune before. But there's something other than treasure on board that aircraft. Something that a lot of important people would kill for. And it's going to take all of Frey's considerable skill at lying, cheating and stealing if he wants to get his hands on it...
Strap yourself in for another tale of adventure and debauchery, pilots and pirates, golems and daemons, double-crosses and double-double-crosses. The crew of the ketfyjay are back!
