CHAPTER FORTY

Nothing distracted from an aching heart like preparing for battle. Caledonia let the work consume every minute of the day and as much of the night as she could bear before collapsing in her bed. The sounds of ship repair in the harbor provided a continuous melody, weaving night into day into night as work teams rotated in overlapping shifts. The entire town stirred and buzzed with an intense kind of focus, never resting.

Oran made himself a shadow at Caledonia’s side, but she saw the rest of her command crew in passing. Sledge and Pine on their way to or from the perimeter where they continued their efforts to reconstruct one of the two destroyed towers; Hime and Ares as they did all they could to ease the suffering of the Bullets coming through their sweats; Tin and the Mary sisters locating every available resource the Holster had to offer and figuring out how to use it; and Pisces only when she came to report on the status of their fleet.

Two days into their work, Pisces rushed to Caledonia’s side, her eyes bright and a hint of pink darkening her sunny brown cheeks. “Cala,” she said, reaching for her hand and pulling her to a stop. Oran stopped, too, stepping back to give them privacy.

The day was warm, and the sky overhead whirled with gulls and puffy white clouds. All around the harbor was a flurry of sound and action, but it all paled in comparison to how good it felt to hear her sister call her Cala.

“What is it?” she asked.

A smile spread on Pisces’s face before she’d even said the word: “Babies.”

Caledonia shook her head, laughing. “What do you mean?”

“Two. There were two babies born today.” She raised a hand and pointed up the hill, toward the part of town where they’d secured all the children and women bearing them. “The first two born in this Holster. Your Holster.”

Babies. There were babies here. That wasn’t a surprise. She’d known there would be, but as Pisces clasped her hands to her chest and continued to smile that beautiful smile, Caledonia understood exactly why this brought her sister so much joy.

If they succeeded in what came next, those children would never know the devastating pull of Silt. These were the first children of the world they were trying so hard to change.

Caledonia laughed. “That is good news,” she said. “Very good news.”

“It’s good to feel happy about something that isn’t a weapon or a fleet or a battle.” She shrugged and her smile faded so quickly it was like a cloud moved across the sun. “I’m not mad, Cala,” she said. “I know why you used the star blossom bombs when you did. You saved the battle. You saved us. I just wish you’d let me help you.”

“I didn’t want you to have to make that call,” Caledonia said.

“Cala.” Pisces dipped her chin in exasperation. “I have been by your side from the beginning. My job is to stay by your side, even when our choices get terrible. That’s my job. Yours is to let me do it so that you can focus on everything else.”

She was right. Their choices had been difficult before. Even terrible. But not like this.

“What about when our choices are more than terrible? What about when our choices demand that we become like them in order to win? Because that’s what is happening.” Caledonia dropped her voice, letting the confession spill from her like a breaking storm. “I’m afraid I can’t win this war without becoming like them. Like him. And if that’s what it takes, then I’ll do it, but I won’t take you with me.”

Pisces stared at her, her lips parted in horrified surprise, her brow creased with sorrow. “Oh, hell, Cala. You’re protecting me?” she whispered, eyes darting to a spot over Caledonia’s shoulder. “Is that why you take Oran? You think he’s already like Lir?”

But before either of them could speak again, an alarm rose over the town.

“Captain!” Nettle raced toward them, cutting through the crowded wharf like a fish through water. “Captain!”

Behind her, Caledonia spotted Sledge and Pine. All three rushed toward her.

“What is it, Nettle?” Caledonia asked as the girl skidded to a stop.

“The Hands,” she breathed. “Of the River.”

“Here?!” Pisces’s hand darted out to grab Nettle’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

Nettle nodded. “Completely. Spotted them from the towers. There’s no mistaking it. Such strange boats! They’re on their way into the harbor now.”

Sledge and Pine arrived a beat behind her proclamation, both with expressions of hopeful anticipation.

“Thin boats just like you described, Captain,” Sledge said. “It’s them.”

Caledonia’s thoughts whirled, and for a second she wasn’t sure her feet were planted to the ground. She had so many questions, so many hopes, and she didn’t know where to begin.

Pisces’s fingers threaded through hers, squeezing lightly as she turned to Nettle and said, “Find Hime.”

Nettle didn’t have to be told twice. They watched her go, their minds churning around the thought none of them was brave enough to vocalize.

When Nettle vanished up the thoroughfare, Caledonia nodded and said, “Let’s go greet our guests.”

Two narrow boats entered the harbor, weaving between the breakers like the current itself. They were similar to the boats Caledonia had seen on her one visit to the rivers, but these were larger, each carrying six people. Caledonia and her team waited at the end of an open berth as the Hands cut across the harbor, their shallow hulls barely leaving any tracks in their wake.

Caledonia held her breath as they drew up to the dock and tied on; she clenched her fists as the crew began to disembark. And as the sight of a familiar face appeared before her, she could not have held herself back if she’d tried.

“Amina!” Caledonia rushed forward. The girl had barely set her feet on the dock before Caledonia wrapped her in a hug. Pisces was there, too, her arms adding another strong layer to their embrace.

“We thought we’d lost you,” Pisces said, her voice muffled by someone’s arm or cheek or hair.

“Spirits, girls, if you hold me any tighter, you still may.” Amina laughed as they reluctantly let her go. “It is good to see you, too.”

“It’s more than good,” Caledonia said, aware that her eyes were brimming with tears and her voice was strangled with the same. Her friend was here, she was alive and smiling, and she looked whole and healthy. “What happened? How did you survive?”

“I got pinned down right after the first explosions. I couldn’t get to you, so I decided to give you as much time as possible, but I was hit,” she said with a shrug, gesturing to a spot high on her left shoulder. “By the time I made my way to the northern canals, nearly everyone was gone, but I found a boat—fixed it—and made for the Hands. I wasn’t sure where you’d be by then and I needed medtech. Seemed like the best plan.”

“It was the best plan,” Caledonia agreed. “It is so good to see you,” she repeated.

“And it’s about to be better.” Amina stepped back and for the first time, Caledonia realized there was a second familiar face in the group.

“Osias of Kyrasi Water,” Caledonia said, raising her hands in greeting. It had been a full moon since their last encounter at the mouth of the Braids, but she would know his face anywhere. “Welcome to the Holster.”

Osias raised his hands, mirroring her gesture. “We have come to aid in your battle, Caledonia Styx.”

At Caledonia’s confused silence, Amina explained, “Sister came for the Hands. After word of your alliance with Tassos reached her, she saw an opportunity to expand her reach beyond Slipmark. I’m certain she regretted the decision.”

“If Amina had not come to us when she did, we would not have understood the scope of the danger,” Osias said, turning a reserved smile on Amina. “We did not come into this fight willingly, but we would like to help you end it.”

“Osias has brought forty-two of his fleet,” Amina said. “All smaller craft as you see, but they pack a much larger punch than you might expect.”

“We welcome your aid,” Caledonia said, still too bewildered to do anything but accept this completely unexpected gift. No matter their size, she would put these vessels to good use. “Please, bring your ships into the harbor. Your people will be given quarters while we bring you up to speed, but we sail the morning after next. Your timing couldn’t be better.”

Osias nodded, returning to his delegation to make arrangements. Amina didn’t follow. Her eyes landed on a point over Caledonia’s shoulder and suddenly, she wasn’t a part of their conversation any longer. With a small gasp, Amina moved as though pulled by an unseen force, her steps measured and strong as she passed Caledonia and crossed the dock until she stood mere inches from Hime.

The smaller girl breathed hard, as though she’d raced across the entire city to get here. Her hair had come loose from its short braid and her eyes were wide and unbelieving as she tipped her head back to stare into Amina’s face.

Then, taking Hime’s face in her hands, Amina pressed a deep kiss to Hime’s lips.

After a second, Hime pushed up on the tips of her toes, wrapping her arms around Amina’s neck and blocking their kisses from view.

“They’re going to make me blush.” Pine pulled his eyes away from the couple with a small smile.

“I thought that was Sledge’s job,” Pisces teased.

“Sometimes,” Pine answered, turning his dark gaze firmly on Pisces. “But we’re not exclusive, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Caledonia was certain she’d never seen her sister blush so hard or so fast. Her light brown cheeks, already rosy from all the excitement, flushed a deeper pink that spread down her neck. Her eyes skated down Pine’s torso, where sweat held his shirt tight across his densely muscled chest and stomach, and then darted away to Caledonia’s face.

“I should go make arrangements for their people, right?” Pisces asked a little too forcefully. “I think I should, so I’m going to go do that.”

Caledonia couldn’t contain the laugh that fell from her lips. Pisces had never been shy, but she preferred discretion when it came to her entanglements, as she called them. Flirting openly was a sure way to drive her usually levelheaded nature deep underground. A strategy Redtooth had frequently employed to avoid her least favorite duties on the Mors Navis.

The dock cleared and news traveled swiftly through the town. By that evening, Far had prepared a feast, and pockets of revelry cropped up along the wharf.

It was the celebration they hadn’t had an opportunity to take and it was long overdue. In another day, they would sail to fight again. Caledonia might even find herself facing her own brother, but right now, they could enjoy this moment of alliance and the return of their lost friend.

“You’re coming with me tonight,” Pisces said as Caledonia returned an empty plate to the kitchens.

“I shouldn’t,” she protested.

But Pisces wasn’t having any of it. “You should,” she said, dragging her down to the wharf, where a racous fire was ringed with dancing figures.

Strains of fiddle and flute raced above the throaty beat of a single drum, and bottles winking dark red in the firelight traveled from hand to hand. Among the revelers were Amina and Hime, their hair loosed and flying around them as they spun to the rhythm of the song. Just behind them came Tin and Nettle, their cheeks rounded with smiles.

“We should dance,” Pisces said into Caledonia’s ear.

“I don’t think I do that.” In fact, Caledonia was sure her body didn’t move that way, especially with her ribs still aching. The thought of tossing her arms to the sky without worrying what was behind her or beside her or ready to drive a dagger into her belly left her physically uncomfortable.

Pisces laughed, tugging Caledonia forward a little at a time. “I’ll be right beside you,” she said. “I’ll protect you.”

“I don’t need protection.” They were near enough now that the fire warmed her skin, and the sounds of her girls laughing together were tempting.

“You do,” Pisces said. “But mostly from yourself.”

Caledonia hadn’t joined them the night of their victory at Cloudbreak seven moons ago. The battle had left a heavy burden on her shoulders, and the thought of dancing when so many deaths lay at her feet had been untenable. But this moment was different. They were once more on the brink of the unknown, and in another day she would have to bear the weight of every life she intended to risk, but tonight . . . perhaps she could take a moment that was just for her.

She let a smile stretch her lips as she nodded to Pisces, who whisked them into the dance with a small yelp of joy. The fire was hot, and the ground warm beneath their feet as they traveled in a ring. Caledonia followed her sister’s lead, raising her arms to twirl in tight circles, sipping from the bottles of cherry wine that landed in her hands. When she tipped her head back, the stars winked, catching up the sparks of the fire in the dark spaces between.

All that surrounded her were the threads of that reel, the untethered laughter of her sisters, the searing kiss of that fire, and the cool promise of the night. Her head spun just enough to be pleasant, and sweat slipped from her temples to her chin, making her shiver.

Amina moved with grace, her braids swirling around her shoulders. Her dark skin shone, and her laughter was a low, rumbling sound. Hime was like a seedling spinning through the air, quick and frenzied, her pale skin slashed with shadows. Tin’s lithe figure seemed to slip in and out of the light, flashing here and there. Nettle was like a firefly, popping in and out, punctuating the space between her sisters with her smile. And Pisces was the sun, her arms flung wide and her dark eyes bright and uncompromising. These were her sisters, her warriors, and they were glorious in their joy.

Soon, the moon had climbed high in the sky and Caledonia stepped out of the circle, giving herself a moment to catch her breath and watch them revolve around the fire in an endless ring. The faces had changed, but the energy that wove between the dancers was just as perfect and powerful. There was Oran and Pine and Sledge. Even Harwell had joined the dance.

With a contented sigh, Caledonia turned away from the fire, aiming for her quarters. Before she’d gone more than a few steps, however, someone called her name. She turned to see four girls trailing one after the other with hurried paces.

The Mary sisters. Tin was in the lead and behind her, Shoravin, Abrasin, and Erin carried a bundle between them, their arms curled protectively around a mass of dark fabric. There was still a breath of a second when Caledonia searched for Lurin before remembering, and sorrow sank sharp teeth into her heart.

“Captain,” Tin said in greeting, an unusual smile on her face. “We thought now was an appropriate time to share something with you.”

Caledonia’s gaze flicked to the bundle, but the girls made no move to reveal it. “What is it, Tin?”

“When we first joined you, we were looking for a place where we could be angry and safe. We wanted to fight, and we wanted to hide, and that’s exactly what you promised us on the Mors Navis. Hit hard; hide fast.” Tin paused, and Caledonia nodded at the familiar words. “But that’s not the case anymore. It hasn’t been for some time.

“We aren’t hiding anymore. You definitely aren’t hiding anymore, and we think it’s time we made ourselves even more visible.” Tin gave her sisters a nod and they began to unfurl the fabric. “Tomorrow, you’re going to lead a fleet that’s entirely your own. We thought it was time we made that fleet official.”

The fabric opened and the girls raised their arms to reveal the design. At first, it was nothing but a black flag, then small solar cells stitched into the center began to glow, revealing a pattern little by little until Caledonia’s family sigil glimmered in blue and white. Soon, the glimmer transformed into a brilliant glow. Here on the wharf, it was overwhelming, but hoisted high over a ship, it would be a beacon.

“We found a stash of clothtech,” Tin explained.

“And a whole bunch of unused solar cells,” added Abrasin, her chin resting in the black fabric with hands on either side. “Erin had an idea how to weave them into the cloth so that they made a pattern.”

Erin, standing between Abrasin and Shoravin, ducked her head at the admiring tone in her sister’s voice. She’d been painfully shy all the turns Caledonia had known her, and she was rarely seen without at least one of her sisters.

“We wanted to make sure there was no doubt which ships were yours,” Shoravin said, fluttering the fabric so the sigil shimmered. “So anyone else who’s angry can find you like we did.”

Caledonia didn’t know how a single flag was going to do that, but before she could raise the question Tin spoke again. “We’ve made thirty-five. Not enough for the fleet, but most of it.”

“Thirty-five?” Caledonia moved forward to lift a corner of the flag, and ran a hand over the solar scales.

To make that number in the time they’d had, they must have been stitching through the night; the four of them seated in a circle around the blue-and-white glow of solar scales, singing softly and missing the airy harmony of their sister Lurin.

“They’re perfect,” Caledonia said, smiling. All the time she’d spent trying to hold her army together and her crew was working on the same problem from a different angle. It was time to stop thinking of herself as a baseless rebel and time to start thinking of herself as a powerful resistance. It was time to make an indelible mark on the Bullet Seas.

“Sisters,” she said, “I think it’s time we hoist our colors.”