A few awkward seconds passed while he tried to decide which question to ask her first. There were so many. Sierra watched him with that same mistrustful expression. Cora was watching him too, but her expression was now more curious than fearful. She was twirling a finger through her hair just like Lizzie sometimes did. He found himself staring back. Cora was so unusual looking, with her white-blonde hair and dark, dark eyes. Exotic, really.

“I like this ship,” Cora said. “It’s bright and warm.” She rubbed her arms enthusiastically.

Jeth smiled. “She’s fast, too.”

Cora’s eyes widened, exposing more of the whites and making her look closer to ordinary. “Oh, can I see? I want to go fast.”

Jeth chuckled. “I’m sure we will soon.”

A huge smile broke across Cora’s face, but it wasn’t directed at him. Lizzie had arrived, carrying a struggling Viggo in her arms. Cora leaped up and raced over to them. Seconds later, she had managed to wrap her arms around the yellow-furred cat.

Lizzie convinced Cora to set Viggo down in the most open area in the room, not far from the door into the galley. The position placed them far enough away that Jeth decided he could ask Sierra some of his questions without being overheard.

“You really had no idea the Donerail’s been missing so long?”

“No, not at all.”

“But how’s that possible?”

Sierra shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “You saw the damage. How’s any of it possible?”

Jeth frowned. Her response seemed believable enough, but her words sounded hollow. He could tell she was hiding something. But before he could press her, Sierra asked, “So what do you plan on doing with us now?”

“What do you mean?’

She rolled her eyes. “There’s no reason to act innocent. I know you didn’t rescue us out of the goodness of your heart. You were hired to find that ship. Probably because of that secret weapon you mentioned.”

Jeth sat up straighter in his chair. It was true, but he didn’t care for the way she described the situation, like he was just some unfeeling mercenary. Well, he was a mercenary when it came down to it, but he cared about some stuff. His crew for one thing, and definitely his sister. “How did you know we were hired?”

She smirked. “You didn’t expect me to believe you were just wandering around the Belgrave for the hell of it, did you?”

“No, I suppose not.”

Her expression suggested she wasn’t surprised by this admission. “So, who do you work for?”

He debated whether or not to tell her the truth, but saw no reason not to. “Hammer Dafoe, governor of Peltraz Spaceport.”

Sierra arched one eyebrow. “You mean the crime lord?”

Jeth scowled. She was far too knowledgeable for her own good. Or for his own good, rather. And this conversation wasn’t going at all like he planned. He was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions. “Yeah, that’s right. What of it?”

“Are you going to hand us over to him then?”

“I—” Jeth broke off, suddenly aware of how defensive he was getting. He shut his mouth and breathed in deep through his nose, trying to regain his focus. Ever since he’d found these people, he’d felt as if the floor beneath his feet had been tipped sideways.

Loud giggles on the other side of the room distracted him for a moment. It was a musical sound, oddly harmonic and soothing.

Fixing his gaze on Sierra, he said, “You’re right that we were hired to find your ship, but you’re a complication I hadn’t planned for. All the passengers were supposed to be dead.”

She swallowed. “We really have been missing for a long time, haven’t we?”

Jeth nodded. “Matter of fact, I was under strict orders not to board the ship at all, which means I’ve no idea what to do about you three now.”

Sierra met his eyes, her expression thoughtful. “Are you saying you’d rather your employer not know we were on board?”

“Yeah, I suppose I am.”

A bright smile crossed Sierra’s face. If he’d thought her pretty before, she was stunning now. Jeth blinked, feeling his face grow warm.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Sierra said.

Jeth tilted his head sideways, more of her story coming into focus—a passenger on a smuggler’s ship, the kind of smuggler who didn’t ask questions about who you were or where you were going so long as you could pay. “So, who are you running away from? Or what?”

It was Sierra’s turn to look surprised by his knowledge. “I . . .” She hesitated, uncertain, then her expression hardened. “It’s complicated, and frankly, none of your business.”

Jeth grinned, amused once again by her feistiness. He leaned back, assuming his most charming manner. “Okay. Then I guess you’ll understand why—”

Crack.

Jeth jumped up, his stomach doing a hard dip. He looked around. The loud noise seemed to have come from everywhere.

Crack-crack-crack.

Pinning the direction of the sound, he glanced up. Sierra dashed across the room and picked up Cora, as if to protect her from incoming danger.

“What was that?” Lizzie said.

“It’s happening here,” Sierra said, her panicked gaze locked on Jeth. “Just like on the Donerail.”

All the air vaporized from inside Jeth’s lungs. Lightheaded, he turned and sprinted out the door and up the stairs to the passenger deck. Sierra had to be wrong. What had happened to that ship couldn’t be happening here. Not on Avalon.