[A/N here's the teaser to the book I'm writing, for everyone who was interested]

It had all started when she was seven. A ridiculous age to send a child to the marketplace on her own, but Tiriara's father had always had so much faith in her, and he had finally worn her mother down.

She was clutching the sheet of paper that had her mother's shopping list scribbled on it, and weaving through the crowd carefully. She was several feet shorter than everyone else, so she moved easily in the throng. That did make it much harder for her to see the wares of the vendors, but it suited her just fine to move a little more slowly.

Being so short, she nearly didn't see the band of men striding purposefully down the wide boulevard until one of them nearly tripped over her.

"Jiq it all-" the man began, but another grabbed his arm quickly and shushed him.

"That's a child, Rish. Mind your tongue."

The blond man with a thick but short beard knelt in front of her, extending a leather-clad hand to help her to her tiny feet. "Are you alright, Spud?"

Tiriara nodded quickly, eyes wide.

"That's good. I think you dropped this."

He held up the small coin purse her father had put on a long cord around her neck. The cord hung off in both directions, snapped in half. In front of Tiriara's ever more awed gaze, the bearded man tied a knot in it, tugging it to assure himself of its firmness before offering it to her with a friendly smile.

"Th-thank you, Elder." Tiriara babbled. "Mam would'a had my neck if I didn't fetch her what she needs for the week."

The man chuckled. "Well I suppose I cannot keep you then, Spud, for we wouldn't want that." He stood straight and motioned for the men behind him to follow as he began to walk off.

Tiriara found herself calling after him, "are you a pirate?"

The boulevard was suddenly quiet and she covered her mouth quickly. She'd said the word. No one was supposed to say the word, as if the mere mention of it would cause them to manifest in every port and corner of the town. For all she knew, it could.

The man chuckled and turned to her, sweeping his hat off. "Hardly." He bowed to her formally. "Captain Chrian Lancaster of Foxhound at your service, Spud."

"We're the good guys," the man who had nearly run into her commented. His companions seemed to find this amusing, for a round of chuckles rumbled from the group.

"Oh hush, Rish," Chrian Lancaster chided as he stood, batting the man lightly with his hat before returning it to his head again. "We're sky-fliers, plain and simple. Now run along, Spud, we certainly wouldn't want Matron to be cross with such a sweet child as yourself."

He turned and strode off again, but Tiriara didn't move. She watched him walk away, watched until he had disappeared from view along with the men following him.

Sky-fliers.

The word was altogether invigorating and horrible, exciting and terrifying. They were the people who went up into that bright expanse above her. Men who flew around in the seemingly tiny ships she could spot on clear days.

Tiriara wanted to be just like them.

~

"Mam?"

"In the kitchen, dear."

Farryn Cardove-Holt was Tiriara's idol. She was gorgeous, with smooth dark skin and raven hair that stretched down her back to her thighs, even in its simple braid. Her brightly colored clothing was covered mostly by a white apron as she kneaded dough for another batch of shurusbi buns. They were the best selling in the bakery, and she prided herself in making every one that went out the door.

"Did you pick up the groceries on the list I gave you?"

"I did, Mam." Tiriara stood on tiptoes to put the bags up on the counter next to her mother.

"Thank you, darling." Farryn paused to lean down and kiss her daughter's head.

Normally Tiriara would dart out of the room as quickly as possible once she had delivered the groceries. Today, however, she paused. "Mam?"

Her mother went back to her baking. "Yes, honey?"

"I want to be a sky-flier."

Tiriara's mother froze.

"Mam?" Tiriara tugged at her dress. "Mam, did you hear me?"

"I heard you, baby," her voice was soft and shaky.

"Mam, I said I want to be a-"

"I heard you!" Farryn slammed her hands down on the counter.

Tiriara flinched backwards.

Her mother never yelled.

She'd tell Tiriara as much quite often. "Proper ladies never yell, Tir. It makes oneself quite undignified."

Farryn Cardove-Holt might have married downward in rank, but she still retained the manners she'd been taught at a young age.

Tiriara watched as her mother took a slow breath, purposely loosening her shoulders. "Could you go fetch your father for me, Tiriara? He was in the bakery the last time I saw him."

Glad for the chance to leave the room, Tiriara darted towards the bakery. "Da?"

"Lookin' for your pops, Spudlet?" One of the workers crouched to smile at her. Tiriara nodded to him quickly.

"Do you know where he is at the moment, Gurr?"

Gruzind winked. "I always do, Spudlet."

Tiriara giggled. "Would you show me?"

He nodded and scooped her up, setting her on his broad shoulders. Tiriara shrieked happily and clung to his dark, springy hair. He may have only been 13, but to her he seemed almost as old as her father. He was as strong as Aubron. To her anyway.

Gruzind carried her to the little office in the back of the bakery, opening the door without knocking.

"Ah, Gruz. Only you would enter without permission." Aubron smiled, standing. "Hi kiddo."

"Da!" Tiriara reached for him with small, pudgy arms. He laughed and gently removed her from Gruzind's shoulders, holding her against his chest. "What do you need?"

"Mam wants you," Tiriara told him, playing with the hem of her shirt. "I don't think she's happy with me."

"Uh oh." He raised his eyebrows comically, worming a giggle out of his daughter. "Well, let's go see why she's angry."

Tiriara nodded and her father turned to Gruzind. "Mind the front counter while I'm gone, and don't eat any of the shurusbi buns. There are fourteen now, and I'll check the receipts if there are less when I return."

Gruzind grumbled something under his breath but nodded.

With that, Aubron shifted his grip on Tiriara to lift her out in front of him like some sort of strange bird. "Off we go!"

Tiriara giggled and flung her arms wide. He carried her through the back door of the store like that, down the thin hallway that connected to their house, and into the kitchen. "Farryn, baby, Ara said you wanted to see me?"

She looked up. "Yes, I do... Tir, honey, do you want to tell your da what you told me when you got home with the groceries?"

Tiriara's feet hit the floor gently as her father set her down. "What did you say, kiddo?" He asked, crouching next to her.

Tiriara turned to him, and with the confidence few Flight Sergeants could boast, repeated, "I want to be a sky-flier."

The kitchen was quiet a few moments. Then Aubron burst out laughing.

His laugh was Tiriara's favorite thing about him. It started low in his stomach, a rumbly-tumbly sound that she could feel if she pressed her ear against his abdomen. From there it bubbled up through his chest and out.

"Well if that's what you want to do, kiddo, I say give 'em old Grunnies a taste of Holt-style Jiqua!"

"Aubron!" Farryn admonished sharply. "What have I told you about cursing around her?"

He waved her off, still laughing.

"What's so funny, Da?" Tiriara frowned at him. She was serious, couldn't they see that? She wanted to be a sky-flier.

Her father fought off another round of laughter at her expression, which made Tiriara annoyed. She stomped her foot. "Da!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, kiddo." He chuckled, running a hand over his face. "It just isn't possible."

"Why not?" Tiriara demanded angrily.

"Because women go mad in the sky, Tir," Her mother said suddenly. "They go mad and they cause problems and it is altogether much more safe to keep them on the ground where they belong. Only a man's head can withstand that altitude and not be twisted into that of a raving beast's."

Tiriara frowned and looked at her father. "Is that true?"

Aubron nodded slowly, his face grave now. "Unfortunately it is, kiddo. There hasn't been a woman on a sky-ship in thousands of years."

~

"You shouldn't have been so harsh with her about it, baby."

Farryn closed her book with a snap, looking up at Aubron sharply. "What else would you have me do? Let her go around telling people that she wanted to be a sky-flier? You know as well as I, Aubron, that any government worker to hear it would have taken it as a threat. She is seven, I'd rather not lose her so young."

The Thokrah sighed softly." I know, baby, I know. But still...."

Farryn sighed after a moment. "Perhaps I could have been more gentle with it.... She scared me, with that talk. I cannot imagine what could have caused it."

"Gruzind said a group of men in flight leathers came into the bakery while we were explaining to Tiriara."

The dark, almond shaped eyes that he loved so much narrowed with hate.

"Pirates." Farryn spat. "No respectable Flight Sergeant would allow his crew to walk around a town as large as this in flight leathers. To do so would be a serious breach of their chivalrous conduct."

Aubron nodded. "It has been quite a long time since Nemserin has seen pirates. It would not be completely surprising for a band to pop up."

He walked over to his wife and gently took the book from her hands, setting it aside. "But let's not think about that now. It's late."

Farryn allowed herself a small smile as her husband coaxed her to her feet. "It's always late, Aubron. You've told me it's late at 4 in the afternoon. You just know I'm unhappy today."

Her husband flashed her a smile. "You know me so well, baby. This time, it truly is late. After the days we've had, we both need the sleep."

She nodded quietly. Aubron pulled her close and led her towards their room with a soft chuckle.

Tiriara scampered quietly back to her room so her parents wouldn't see her. She understood now. Her mother had been angry because she was afraid of losing her. To the government or to pirates, it didn't matter which. She buried herself under her covers and made a silent promise never to speak of being a sky-flier ever again.

But that hardly stopped the idea from nagging at the back of her mind on quiet nights, when she fancied she could hear icreorrel crystals humming over the house and distantly shouted orders.

[A/N YEET]