Sebastian adjusted his brass eyepiece and scanned the forest around him for the one thing he couldn’t afford to lose.
A bright glow led him to a large creature rooting around in the undergrowth.
“Any sign of it, Ghost?”
His navigator, Kytt Windthorn, rose from the tangle. “I can’t believe I dropped the astrolabe!”
Ethel sat with the other wallflowers and resisted the urge to deploy poison gas against the man swaggering toward her. Reginald Ashcroft was about to ask her to dance. Again.
Her father required her to speak with him occasionally on family business, but Ashcroft never failed to humiliate her in the process.
The Ghost, an infamous young thief recently turned pirate, walked through the bustling cacophony of Cog’s Meridian on market day.
Polite society knew her by a different name, but she was far from polite society today. Far from expectations and inopportune fiancés.
Beside her, Captain Gearlock kept watch on their surroundings with his clockwork
Aether’s Edge floated demurely across the sky, but inside the dirigible manor’s private study, Kytt Windthorn’s language was anything but ladylike.
“Thomas Edison’s trousers!” Kytt swiped a curl out of her face and pressed her ear to the cold metal door of an Iron Guardian X99. They were finicky under the best circumstances
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