Phin was a spectacular pilot and the few upgrades he’d managed on this boat had made a world of difference. Their flight out of Scotland and over northern England had, thus far, been as smooth as glass. Not once had they taken a sudden and heart-stopping dip. Eleven days ago, Simon had wrestled with a malfunctioning turbine and the steering mechanism had jammed. Piloting his father’s creation had been a bit of a harrowing experience. More than once he’d contemplated his own demise. Is that how Willie had felt when she’d gotten distracted in Filmore’s memories? A wisp or tremor of fear? The notion that she might not pull through the experience unscathed? That she was quite possibly flirting with death? Could time-tracing kill her? Simon had mulled over the possibility as he’d helped Willie settle into a small but comfortable cabin. Whilst Phin had set a course for Canterbury, Willie had talked Simon through the upcoming time-trace with her father.
