CHAPTER SIX

The white cliffs of Cloudbreak sifted through the fog, darkening against the sky in a slow smile.

Though Hesperus had revealed to Caledonia that there were more ways in and out of the city itself than the lifts, they were still the fastest. And they’d gotten faster. Over the past six moons, Old Man Clagg had managed to cut nearly a minute from the time it took to travel up the harrowing cliffside. With Oran’s help, he’d shaved off an additional thirty seconds. Now, as the command crew stepped onto the pallet and they pulled away from the ground, Caledonia felt every second of that speed.

Pisces planted herself in the center of the lift, where she rode the whole way seated with legs crossed and eyes closed. Hime sat with her, taking one of Pisces’s tightly balled fists between her own hands. Amina stood at Hime’s back, while Nettle swung from one of the stationary ropes with one hand. Pine hovered nearby. He might not be willing to admit it, but he was always close enough to reach out and catch the girl should she lose her grip. Sledge stood apart from everyone, arms crossed against his chest, eyes pressed serenely shut, as though the sensation of being whisked up a mountainside were commonplace.

Caledonia stood alone at the edge of their pallet. Cold wind ripped through her hair, and the force of the lift’s speed pushed against her entire body, reminding her that if she stepped from the lift, she would sink like a stone in water, plummeting back toward the rocky shore.

As they approached the top of the cliffs, which curled protectively around the city within, their pallet slowed, then deposited them on a platform where five anxious figures waited. Hesperus was at the front, mouth pinched in a frustrated twist and brow creased. While the city was technically still his, it had transformed since the battle, and every time Caledonia returned from sea, he had something new to complain about. Today was clearly no exception.

Just behind Hesperus stood Ares. Unlike the Sly King, Ares did not look like he was chewing on something unpleasant, but his relief was visible when his eyes landed first on Sledge and then on his sister. Next to Ares was Kae, who was probably waiting for her own sister Mino to appear, and just behind her was Ennick. The man was several turns Caledonia’s senior with skin as salt-pale as her own and dusty brown hair. A former Ballistic turned rogue captain, he and his crew had joined with Caledonia’s during the Battle of Cloudbreak, and Ennick had been the rallying point for rogue ships ever since.

And there, standing at the rear of the entire group, was the one person she most wanted to see: Oran. He leaned against the low wall on the other side of the dock. His strong brown hands were braced on either side of his narrow hips and he watched Caledonia step off the lift with a private smile. Recently, Caledonia had come to know how often Oran’s expressions looked like one thing but meant something else. He laughed when he was worried, a frown that lit his eyes meant he was amused. But this slight narrowing of his warm brown eyes, the tightening of his lips, the tuck of his chin; these were things he only did when he wanted to kiss her.

The second Caledonia stepped off the lift, the five of them swept around her like a cloak. The entire group of twelve moved as one, a swarm of bees skimming through an orchard. As they traveled down a walled channel toward the stronghold, they gathered guards who moved ahead and behind until Caledonia was thoroughly and safely locked away in the center of the mass.

“You can’t keep bringing people into my city like this, Captain.” Hesperus dove right in.

Caledonia almost laughed.

“Our resources are strained as is. We don’t have the capacity to keep feeding these Bullets. Especially if all they’re going to do is sit there and sweat and eat my food!”

“They chose to be here,” Caledonia reminded him, patient but firm. “And it’s better than the alternative.”

“We can stretch our stores, Hesperus.” Kae spoke with the tone of someone tired of repeating themselves.

“But we can’t stretch our beds and I’m running out of room. I’m certainly running out of goodwill.” Hesperus spoke loudly now.

“There wasn’t much of that to begin with.” It wasn’t in Ares’s nature to seek out conflict, but when it came to what they did with defecting Bullets, he found all his sharp edges.

Hesperus’s expression darkened. Without breaking his stride, he said, “Show me their worth and maybe I’ll find a little to spare.”

“Can we build?” Amina spoke up from the rear. “There’s plenty of wood to be had in the forest. And there are plenty of hands to do the work.”

“There’s room to expand the current barracks,” Kae supplied, her eyes darting once to Hesperus. “And we can spare the supplies.”

“The Blades volunteer to provide labor,” Sledge added, his long brown braid swaying behind him.

“First they come for my city, now they come for my forest,” Hesperus muttered. “Yes, fine. If there’s space in the Orange Quarter to expand the barracks, then you have my blessings, but that sector stays firmly secured or I’ll burn it to the ground myself.”

“Make it fast,” Caledonia ordered. “Kae, you and Sledge coordinate crews and materials. Let’s get it done before housing becomes a problem.”

That was how problems went these days. While she was away, command decisions fell to Oran, but the second Caledonia returned she was bombarded with every issue that hadn’t been resolved in her absence. In this case, the problem of the former Bullets she’d sent back a mere day ahead of her own return. Relations between Oran and Hesperus remainded tense, but once a decision had been made, they moved on.

Up ahead, the stronghold of Cloudbreak ribboned out of the mountainside in layered concentric circles. From inside Cloudbreak, it was a fortress sitting high above the city. But from outside, the fortress melted into the stony face of the mountain. The only exception was the topmost tier, where Hesperus’s observatory capped the structure with a doomed roof.

“Captain,” Ennick’s voice darted in. “We’ve had three more ships come to join. Small vessels, I’m afraid, but each with willing crews. Eighteen in all.”

Every time Ennick brought a report, Caledonia’s heart leapt before she could stop it. Rogue ships were almost always small vessels. Too small to make much of a difference in a battle, but they were incredibly useful for noncombat missions—scouting, foraging, or quick transport. They were the ancillary fleet, filling the gaps that the primary fleet couldn’t.

“That’s good news, Ennick,” Caledonia said. “Ares?”

“Other than needing more space, detox is going well. The new recruits are more resistant than usual, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“There’s always the other option.” Hesperus tossed the comment over his shoulder.

Before Ares could respond, Caledonia asked, “What do you mean, more resistant?”

Ares took a second to consider before answering. “Seems like most of them are already in the early stages of detox, so they’re coming down faster and with fewer casualties, but fighting us a little harder.”

Caledonia stopped in her tracks. The rest of the group stopped around her, some more gracefully than others. She turned and found Ares directly at her back. “Already in detox?”

She looked for Oran and found him moving to her side, responding to her on instinct. “We think their rations might have been reduced before they defected. Maybe well before.”

“Reduced.” She repeated the word, more to herself than anyone else. “Pine!”

“Captain,” Pine answered, immediately stepping out from behind Ares.

“How much Silt was taken from the Bullets before we released them?”

“Two doses each,” Pine said, his smoky brown skin in perfect contrast to the dark stubble along his jaw. “Though many were down to one.”

Each time they apprehended a clip of Bullets, they inventoried the Silt before destroying it; no Silt was allowed to leave a battle site or to pass into the city. Bullets always carried a few doses with them, but it was unusual to find them down to a single packet.

“You think their supply is running low?” Caledonia directed her question back to Ares.

It was exactly why they’d been eager to target the AgriFleet in the first place, to put a considerable dent in Lir’s Silt supply, but if the Bullets were carrying less than usual, perhaps the supply was already strained.

A thoughtful frown appeared on Ares’s mouth as he considered. “It’s possible. I doubt we’ll get any straight answers from them now, but maybe when they’ve come through the worst.”

Recruited Bullets weren’t capable of anything once they’d reached the first sharp peak of their withdrawal. Their blood burned, their guts cramped, and they struggled to stay hydrated. The whole terrible process could last anywhere from three days to a solid week depending on the Bullet. During that time, they could barely speak, let alone be a reliable source of information. Interrogation had to wait.

“If their supply wasn’t strained before, it will be soon, and things will get worse for Lir.” Caledonia spun on her heel and started walking once more. “Where are we on soiltech?”

“Nowhere, I’m afraid,” Kae answered solemnly. “But now that Nettle’s back, perhaps we’ll get a bit further.”

Nettle skipped, her rainbow-colored ribbons flouncing in answer to her aunt. Now that Caledonia knew Hesperus, Mino, Kae, and Nettle were all related, she could see the resemblance. Though the prominent cheekbones that gave Mino and Kae a statuesque kind of beauty were wider on Nettle’s face and Nettle’s skin was more amber than earthen, all four of them had the same eyes that winged up in the corners and noses that stretched wide over full lips. Though Caledonia didn’t know what had happened to Nettle’s birth parents, her aunts and uncle each watched over her in different ways.

“Oran?” Caledonia said, slowing her steps to let him draw even with her. “Your report?”

“We’ve evaluated our recent arrivals and accounted for their resources,” Oran began, bringing her up to speed on the changes in their standing fleet and its readiness. “All new ships have been assigned to existing fleets and we’ve started incorporating them into our drills. They’re ready for your direction as soon as you’re ready to give it.”

“Anything else?” Caledonia asked as the walled path opened around the wide plane of the eastern promenade. When no one spoke, she gave a nod. “Good, then let’s get to work solving our problems.”

The group dispersed and Caledonia stepped inside the fortress, already feeling the pull to return to the water. Two guards followed close behind. No matter where she went in Cloudbreak, they were her constant shadows. They’d been Hesperus’s idea and Pisces had quickly agreed. When Caledonia protested that she didn’t need protection, especially not in Cloudbreak, Hesperus had said, “They’re as much for your image as they are your protection.” And Pisces had added, “It’s either them or me and Pine. You pick.”

While she’d prefer to have her friends watching her every move, she also needed them getting their own tasks done. They couldn’t do that if they were glued to her side day and night.

The inside of the fortress was always darker than Caledonia expected. The hallways were long and narrow, and here, near the outer edge, natural light filtered through intermittent windows built into thick walls. The air was cool and damp and always suffused with smoke from the night before.

Hesperus had given Caledonia a small office on the second level and as she headed there, she heard the whisper of a fourth set of footsteps behind them. She moved faster, her heartbeat speeding up to match.

She pushed straight through her office door leaving it wide open in her wake. As her guards took their position just outside, she turned. And there, trailing her down the dim corridor, was Oran.

He locked his eyes on hers and walked determinedly forward, passing her guards without a glance. He stepped inside the office and shut the door firmly behind him.

Caledonia’s heart skipped into her throat. She could feel her pulse thrumming in her neck, her fingertips, zinging hot down to her belly and between her legs. She took one shallow breath and then his arms were around her waist, pulling her against him.

Their mouths were fast and hungry, their hands just as eager. When their kisses became tugging at hair and clothes, and gasps became little groans, Caledonia pulled away.

“Not here,” she said, passing a thumb over Oran’s crushed red lips. “Not yet.”

Oran’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You want my real report.”

“I want your real report,” Caledonia admitted, though her body certainly didn’t agree. She wanted his hands on her skin, his mouth on her mouth, she wanted nothing between them but darkness.

With a sigh, Oran stepped away. Cold air rushed between them and Caledonia instantly regretted her request.

Oran nodded, and in an instant he transformed from the young man who saved smiles just for her to the Fiveson who smiled for no one.

“It’s done.” His voice dipped low, grim and hard, and Caledonia’s heart dipped with it.

She hated asking him to work in secret like this, but she could see no other way. They’d come too far, lost so much to win so little. Everyone was looking to her to change the world. They had hope, confidence, so much faith that Caledonia Styx would be the one to free the Bullet Seas from the deadly hooks of Aric’s legacy. She’d thought she had a partial solution in Amina’s silencers, but without the ability to create more, she needed another option.

One no one knew about except for her and Oran.

“I was able to build four. Any more right now and I think Kae will notice supplies going missing. I can get these to the Luminous Wake as soon as she’s docked in the canals. As long as you’re still sure?”

Caledonia nodded as she blew out an uncomfortable breath. “I’m sure.”

“The Hands of the River?”

The crushing sensation of rejection fell heavily on Caledonia’s shoulders. “They’re not an option.”

Oran’s lips tightened. He had been skeptical of their aid from the start, but if he felt any satisfaction in being right, he didn’t show it. Instead, he seemed truly disappointed.

“You don’t have to use these, Cala.”

A thin, tragic laugh escaped Caledonia’s lips. The memory of Aric using his Bullets as a living shield as she threw a star blossom bomb into their midst planted itself in her mind. She would never forget the chorus of their screams or the wet sound of their dying cries. She would never forget the burnt smell of the air even as it tasted of copper and pain. She would never forget that she had had a choice and, in an instant, killed a hundred Bullets in the worst possible way.

Had there been another option? If she’d given herself another moment, would she have found a solution that didn’t leave the deck of the Titan washed crimson and black?

She still didn’t know. But she did know that once a bomb was built, the question wasn’t if it would be used, it was when.

“I wouldn’t have asked you to build them if I wasn’t prepared to use them,” she said. The anger that threaded her chest as she spoke was partly for Aric, who had created a world in which star blossoms were ever a necessity, and partly for herself, for answering that need. She was supposed to be working toward a world without this kind of fear.

“I won’t ever judge you for it.” Oran spoke softly, his eyes holding on to her and keeping her afloat. “And I will make you as many as I’m able. Just say the word.”

Using star blossoms was a terrible option. The worst she’d ever entertained. She couldn’t really imagine what Pisces or Sledge would say if they knew she was building her own. It was better that they didn’t know. Better that the decision wouldn’t rest on their shoulders.

“Not yet,” Caledonia said, and Oran released a tight breath of relief.

Then she reached out, twisted her fingers in his shirt, and pulled him back to her. She whispered, “For a minute, I actually thought skintech could be the answer. But Lir still outnumbers us and I can’t build our fleet fast enough. He’s brutal. I have to be prepared to end this one way or another.”

They stayed that way for a long time. Her head against his chest, his fingers threaded through her hair. She quietly told him about Decker being dead, about Donnally, about the murdered Fivesons who used to be Oran’s brothers, too. There was nothing she could say that he would hate or reject, because for all her growing familiarity with darkness, Oran had already been there.