There. One more advantage they had that this king did not: She’d been standing on the bridge, waiting and watching for the launch she knew was coming. She saw the Plover’s trail. She saw where it headed. She could - roughly - guess which of the wrecks it might’ve taken refuge in. 

They had a shot. A long shot, but a shot nonetheless.

Vasilia dropped her hand. “Go. See that she’s well, we’ll need all the hands we can get if we’re to get to Redana first. The new crew too, they’ll need to know where engines and steering are.” 

Dolce nodded once, and was off like a wooly shot. If she hadn’t been listening keenly, she might’ve missed his little footfalls. Might’ve lost track of him before he’d left the bridge. Not today. Not now.

“One more thing?”

He stopped, one foot out the door. Outside, the void tore itself asunder, and the Armada loomed large, and Dolce, precious Dolce, looked only to her.

Her heart ached treacherously.

“Return to me soon, darling. Whole, and well.” She wore her warmest smile. For him. “That’s an order.”

The salute he threw was impeccable. The earnest bleating was a blessed bonus.

[The Pair are now Working Alone.]