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  “I’m all right,” Stella said. Her voice shook with pent-up emotion. Cyrus was close to coming back—she could feel it.

  She knelt next to Cyrus and helped the Tinker remove the pads and wires while the captain sent Drea outside to be ready to greet the approaching ships.

  “Would you like to come with me to meet the delegation?” the Tinker asked Stella as he worked. His eyes twinkled. “I know they’re going to want to meet you.”

  Stella had to admit she was curious about the olarans headed their way. Would they all be as open-minded and compassionate as the Tinker? How would the Iron Glory’s crew react? After all, this was what they’d been dreaming about since the expedition began, but so many things had happened since then. Would the meeting be full of hope, or fear and mistrust? Part of Stella wanted to be there to see it, but she shook her head. “I want to wait with Cyrus until he wakes up,” she said.

  “Of course.” The Tinker smiled fondly and squeezed her shoulder. “History may say what it likes about this encounter between our peoples, but I’m glad I got the chance to meet you first, Stella. You’ve brought me on quite an adventure, one that I hope is just beginning. I’m deeply grateful to you.”

  Stella’s cheeks warmed. “Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for trusting me.”

  During the next hour, Stella’s parents received a new wave of patients, crew members who’d been attacked by the Faceless man or trapped in various parts of the ship. Some were seriously injured, but many were simply exhausted and dehydrated. Stella’s mother took the latter group outside to the tents to get them food and water.

  Stella kept out of the way and sat in a chair by Cyrus’s bed. They’d moved him to a cot after the Tinker’s procedure was finished, but he still hadn’t woken. After a while, her father came over with a bowl of hot soup and a bandage.

  “Both for you,” he said, smiling at her. “And remember to drink water.”

  The bandage helped dull the fiery pain of the blister, and the soup made her sleepy. Stella wasn’t sure what time it was or even what day anymore. What do the olarans call the days here? she wondered. She would have to ask Cyrus. She would also have to rest sometime, but she didn’t want to leave the medical bay.

  Despite her best efforts, she must have nodded off, because she woke to a familiar soft chuckle.

  “That has to be the most uncomfortable position in the history of sleep,” Cyrus said, his voice groggy but still managing to be playful. “I think the cargo bay was better.”

  Stella sat up, the muscles in her neck screaming in protest. There was a pillow propped on the chair arm, and she’d been lying against that, curled into a tight ball. She put her feet down on the floor and leaned forward to seize her friend’s hand. “You’re all right,” she said, a wave of relief flowing over her. “I thought we were going to lose you.”

  “So did I,” Cyrus admitted, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little bit shocked that I’m still alive. How did it happen?”

  “The Tinker saved you,” Stella said. She quickly filled him in on everything that had happened since his last message from the beetle. Cyrus’s eyes lit up when she described her flight on the ornithopter and the Tinker’s pack of mechanical wolves. He whistled in amazement when she told him how the Tinker had helped her modify the invisibility suit to conceal the Lazuril rod.

  “Stella Glass, you are without a doubt the most incredible explorer who ever set foot in Kovall,” Cyrus said, a huge grin spreading across his face.

  Stella shook her head. “You were the amazing one,” she said. “You were willing to die to save the ship.”

  They stared at each other in silence for a minute while Stella thought of all the things they’d been through since she and Cyrus had snuck on board the Iron Glory. How many times disaster had been just an inch away, how many times they’d almost lost each other.

  How much meeting him had changed her.

  Thinking all this, Stella met his eyes and smiled. “Cyrus, you are without a doubt the most important friend I’ve ever had,” she said quietly.

  Cyrus’s face softened. He reached for her hand, but just then, Captain Keeler and Drea walked back into the medical bay. Stella jumped and sat back in her chair, cheeks on fire all over again.

  “I’m glad to see you’re all right, Cyrus,” the captain said, not appearing to notice Stella’s embarrassment. “Every person on this ship owes you and Stella their life. We can’t ever thank you properly or make up for our treatment of you when we first met, but I hope that we can start over. I’d be grateful for a second chance.”

  He held out his hand to Cyrus. Cyrus shook it, and now his face was as red as Stella’s. He mumbled that it wasn’t necessary, that he was glad everyone was all right.

  Stella didn’t catch the rest. Her attention was drawn to the doorway, where another group of people had appeared.

  There were four of them, and they wore ceremonial uniforms, with tailored burgundy coats that fell to their knees, fastened with small, ornate silver clasps. Pinned to their chests was some kind of symbol. From a distance, it looked like a starburst, and the metal glimmered in a way that reminded Stella of aletheum.

  The olaran delegation had arrived.

  The two olarans in front were older. There was a woman who looked to be in her late sixties. Her thick white hair hung loosely around her face, and she had dark, penetrating gray eyes. The man standing next to her looked about twenty years younger, smooth-shaven and bald. Both of them wore serious, almost severe expressions.

  Then the man looked across the room and saw Cyrus.

  His expression told Stella everything she needed to know, even more than the resemblance, which became clearer the longer she looked at him. This man was Cyrus’s father.

  The room went very quiet then. The captain stepped back, but, for a moment, Cyrus and his father simply stared at each other. It was as if they were looking from across the gulf of the Hiterian Mountains and beyond. Cyrus’s hands clutched his blanket. His chest rose and fell, his breath coming in quick, unsteady gasps.

  “Danaala,” he said hoarsely in his own language.

  Stella didn’t know what the word meant, but she could guess.

  Father.

  That word and three long strides brought the man into the room and over to his son’s bedside. He dropped to his knees, wrapped his arms around Cyrus, and pulled him into a tight hug. It took Stella a moment to realize that they were both crying, quiet, joyful tears that shook their shoulders as they held each other up.

  Stella rose from her chair and stepped back, giving them as much privacy as she could in the cramped medical bay.

  The other three olarans had entered the room and were talking to Drea and Captain Keeler. Every now and then, the older woman glanced at Stella, and once she smiled at her. Stella smiled back tentatively. She was suddenly nervous, feeling out of place. She wished her parents were here.

  The woman said something to Drea that Stella didn’t hear, and the sarnun beckoned to Stella. Hesitantly, she made her way over to them.

  “Stella, this is the alagant’s personal guard and representative, Leandral,” Drea introduced her.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Stella,” Leandral said warmly. Her use of the Trader’s Speech was smooth and practiced. “The alagant regrets she cannot be here to meet you at this time, but I carry a message of greetings and welcome to your people. We also wanted you to know that we have taken the Faceless man into our custody, and we give you our promise that neither he nor any other olaran will threaten you again.

  “We are eager to bring you and the rest of the crew of the Iron Glory to Kovall as soon as you are able, for a personal audience with the alagant,” Leandral went on. “The Tinker is also eager to meet with all of you, and to help with the repair and rebuilding of your ship. We hope that a bright future lies ahead of both our peoples.”

  Before Stella could reply to the speech, a hand touched her shoulder
. Turning, she was surprised to see Cyrus’s father, his eyes still wet with tears.

  Lifting his hand and placing it over the starburst symbol pinned to his chest, Cyrus’s father sank into a deep bow right in front of Stella. One by one, the other olarans in the room followed suit, until they were all bowing to her.

  Stella’s cheeks burned. She didn’t know what to do. She’d never expected this. Should she bow in return? Curtsy? But her feet might as well have been nailed to the floor. She couldn’t move. All she could do was stand there in shock while the olaran representatives paid their respects.

  Cyrus’s father stood up straight and gazed down at her. He looked like he wanted to say something. His brown eyes were full of emotion and held the same kindness that Cyrus’s did. Seeing them finally gave Stella the courage to speak.

  “Antya,” she said, greeting him in the olaran language, and then, in her own added, “I’m happy to meet you, sir.” Her voice quavered only a little. “Cyrus has told me a lot about you.”

  His lips curved in a smile that made the resemblance between father and son even stronger. “I’m told your name is Stella,” he said in her language. His voice was elegant and measured, with a slight accent. “Is that right?”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Stella Glass.”

  He nodded solemnly, as if her name was something precious. “Stella, you’ve brought my family back to life.” His elegant voice cracked. “We can never repay you for what you’ve done.”

  A tear slid down Stella’s cheek. She wiped it away and shook her head. “Cyrus saved me too, saved all of us,” she said, looking around at the scattered crew.

  He smiled, and the pride in his eyes shone clearly. “Your actions have given our peoples a chance to come together,” he said. “I look forward to getting to know all of you better in the coming days.”

  Overwhelmed again, Stella couldn’t speak. Cyrus’s father reached for her hand, turned her palm up, and placed a small metal object into it.

  Cyrus’s messenger beetle.

  Then he said something in his own language. Confused, Stella waited for him to translate, but it was Cyrus who spoke up.

  “ ‘From today, may we always be connected,’ ” he said.

  A lump rose in Stella’s throat. “May we always be connected,” she said, meeting Cyrus’s eyes as she repeated the words.

  “You know we’re going to be late,” Stella said in exasperation.

  The sun was high and bright in the sky, the wind warm on their faces as Stella and Cyrus stood side by side at the gates of Kovall.

  The last several days had been a whirlwind of activity. The city had sent more supplies and even more people to help the Iron Glory and its crew recover from the crash. In fact, most of the wreckage had already been transported via Kovall’s airships to the Tinker’s estate. The Iron Glory’s scientists and engineers had taken up temporary residence there too. Teams of humans, sarnuns, chamelins, and olarans were already hard at work on reconstructing the ship. And according to Cyrus, the Tinker was giddy with excitement at being able to study with them. All his hard work organizing the expeditions was finally paying off, and he couldn’t have been happier.

  Meanwhile, Stella and her parents had been invited to stay with Cyrus’s family, and they’d gladly accepted. Cyrus was recovering, and he still spent a good deal of time resting in bed on the orders of the Tinker, but he was getting stronger every day.

  Captain Keeler, Drea, and the command crew had been spending most of their time at the royal palace in meetings with the alagant and her diplomatic staff. In fact, they’d sent a message just yesterday that Stella was to come to the palace to meet with the olaran queen. They were supposed to have been on their way twenty minutes ago, but Cyrus had taken them to the city gates instead.

  Stella crossed her arms. “Are you throwing me out of the city?” she teased. “Bored with me already, so you’re booting me out?”

  He grinned. “Tiresome as you are, no, that’s not why we’re here.” He took her hand and drew her to the side of the main thoroughfare, out of the way of traffic flowing into and out of the bustling city. His face turned serious. “There was something I didn’t get a chance to tell you that day I woke up in the medical bay.”

  Stella’s forehead creased as she thought back to that day. There had been so many emotions wrapped up in that moment that it had been overwhelming. “What is it?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, Cyrus reached out and wrapped his arms around Stella, setting his chin on her shoulder.

  Stella’s heart began to beat very fast as she stood in his arms. Thinking about all the hugs she’d shared with her family, this was yet another new one for her. This was Cyrus. A person she’d known only for a short time, but long enough to know she would cross the world for him.

  “Stella, you said I was your most important friend.” Cyrus’s voice cracked. “I wanted to tell you I feel the same way. Thank you for keeping your promise.” His shoulders shook. “You…you brought me home.”

  Stella had no words, but she didn’t need any. She just hugged Cyrus back fiercely, letting her feelings speak for her. When he finally pulled away, he wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand.

  “Are you ready to go?” Stella asked, smiling and taking his hand.

  He nodded and returned her smile, a grin that went all the way up to his eyes. “I pictured this moment in my head, you know—the two of us standing at these gates. I dreamed about it, the way I dreamed of coming home when I didn’t know how I’d ever get here. But now that we are here, there’s something I’ve wanted to say to you ever since we crossed the Hiterian Mountains,” he said, looking at her meaningfully.

  With his free hand, he gestured to the city beyond the gates, the wonder of it spreading out before them like a new adventure waiting to happen. “Welcome to Kovall, Stella Glass.”

  Stella beamed and squeezed his hand as they walked into the city together. “Welcome home,” she said.

  alagant: queen

  antya: hello or good day

  danaala: father

  lazuril: living light

  sinhave: goodbye

  tictan: beetle

  I’ve been living in Solace for almost six years now, and this book is the culmination of that time spent in the company of characters I couldn’t wait for readers to meet. But a separate cast of amazing individuals made this world and these stories possible.

  To my amazing team at Delacorte Press, let me thank you for your dedication, and for delivering on every promise you ever made and more. Krista Marino, Monica Jean, and Beverly Horowitz, as well as everyone on the marketing and publicity teams, and the designers and artists who gave me such amazing covers and maps, EVERYONE who got these books out in the world: I can’t give you all enough virtual hugs.

  Thank you to Sara Megibow, extraordinary agent and all-around wonderful person. I’ve been surrounded by an incredible group of people in publishing, and you are the center of that circle.

  My writing group has been with me for the entire six-year process. Elizabeth, Gary, and Kelly, I can’t thank you enough for sticking with me to the end.

  A special thanks to all the readers who have sent me artwork, stories, and notes showing their love of Solace. You made the world come alive in new ways with your creativity and joy, and that makes this author so happy.

  To my mom, my dad, and Jeff, I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud of me. Thank you for everything.

  And finally, this is for my husband, Tim. You know you own my heart. You’re my partner—my Gee, my Ozben, my Cyrus. I love you.

  Jaleigh Johnson is the New York Times bestselling author of The Mark of the Dragonfly, The Secrets of Solace, and The Quest to the Uncharted Lands. A lifelong reader, gamer, and moviegoer, she loves nothing better than to escape into fictional worlds and take part in fantastic adventures.

  Jaleigh lives and writes in the wilds of the Midwest, but you can visit her online at jaleighjohnson.com or fo
llow @JaleighJohnson on Twitter.

  “Apprentices, quiet!” The excited chatter in the classroom almost drowned out Tolwin’s exasperated shout. “You’d think that none of you had ever seen a simple box before.”

  From her seat near the back of the classroom, Lina Winterbock snorted in amusement. An archivist, even a junior apprentice like her, knew there was no such thing as “a simple box.” Not when that box had been shipped from the meteor fields up north.

  The classroom for Archival Studies was an amphitheater, the desks arranged in a semicircle on stone tiers carved out of the cavern’s natural rock formations. At the bottom, in the teaching pit, there was a scarred oak table and a podium beside it for the teacher. The box that had caused the pandemonium sat in the middle of the table. Lina’s teacher, the archivist Tolwin, stood behind the podium. His apprentice and assistant, Simon, stood at Tolwin’s side, scowling at all the noise. Though to be fair, the sour expression could just be Simon’s version of a smile. With him, it was hard to tell.

  As Tolwin swept his gaze over the fifty-odd students assembled in the classroom, Lina turned her attention away from the box and sank as low in her seat as she could manage without actually falling to the floor. It didn’t matter. The teacher’s sharp eyes found her anyway and narrowed as his lips pressed into a thin line of displeasure. Lina forced herself to stare back at him without flinching, but it wasn’t easy. Tolwin’s glare felt like a spider skittering down her spine. A large, hairy spider with fangs.

  Given the incident last year, Tolwin’s reaction to her wasn’t that surprising, but Lina kept hoping maybe he would fall and hit his head and somehow forget the whole unpleasant business. Normally, she would never wish a head injury on anyone, but it might make her days in Archival Studies a bit easier.

  Lina released a tense breath as Tolwin finally looked away from her, and she eagerly refocused her attention on the mysterious box. What was Tolwin hiding in there? Some new bit of technology? A painting? Or maybe even a manuscript? Mystery poured from the depths of the box, filling Lina’s mind and quickening her heart.