She didn’t have the strength to resist, so she nodded—carefully—and shifted so she could lean against the wall and inspect the knot on the back of her head. It was a sizeable nugget, tender to the touch and crusted with blood.
Pisces sent for a plate and then opened the porthole to freshen the room with brisk sea air. “Do you remember what happened?”
The sun was fully risen now. The storm had hit around evening, which meant Caledonia had been out for the whole night. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember. But all she saw was Redtooth, skidding across the deck as her own body slipped toward the edge. She hadn’t been strapped in. The water should have swept her out to sea.
She opened her eyes to find Pisces seated across from her. Arms crossed. Frowning with her entire figure.
“I remember hitting the deck. And Red . . .” But what had happened? She couldn’t find it in her memory. It was obvious that Pisces knew exactly what had happened, and it was equally obvious that she wanted to say so. “You tell me.”
“You hesitated.” Her arms unfolded, hands landing on her thighs as she leaned in. “I saw it. I was just in time, in fact, to see how you stopped in the middle of a storm to second-guess yourself and your crew.”
“That’s not what I was doing.” Was it? She remembered the moment. The bridge crew needed her, but so did the deck crew, struggling with the mainmast, a Bullet in their midst. A Fiveson.
Pisces narrowed her eyes. “I know you. Maybe better than you know yourself sometimes. I saw it. You don’t trust your crew, and I’m beginning to think it means you don’t trust yourself.”
“That’s not what happened, Pi! It was Oran! I sent Oran off to work with Red, and then he was there and I couldn’t bring myself to move away. Because I don’t trust that Bullet.”
“What more do you want?” Pisces threw her hands out in exasperation. “He’s done everything you asked, and he performed beautifully during that storm. If he hadn’t helped get that mast down, this ship would be on the bottom of the ocean by now, and your crew would be dead.”
“I want—” Caledonia’s head throbbed. “I want you to understand that no matter what he does to gain your trust, you can’t give it to him.”
“I think he’s done more than enough to gain our trust already.”
“He’s tricking you!”
“Tricking me? How?!” Pisces was on her feet, pacing in front of Caledonia’s bed. “Tell me how I’m being tricked.”
“You’re enamored with him!”
Pisces couldn’t have looked any more affronted. “I’m not enamored, Cala. I like him. I’m grateful for him. And I treat him like he’s human because that’s what he is. I can do that without falling for him. Can’t you?”
They were interrupted by a single knock at the door. It was the plate of food, piled high and still steaming. And even though a moment before she’d have sworn she wasn’t hungry, her stomach growled. She took the plate.
“What happened to Red?”
“She nearly cut herself in half going after you like that, but she’s fine. Sore. Maybe a little grumpier than usual.” Pisces filled the gaps in Caledonia’s memory. The ship was pitching hard to starboard, and Caledonia was washing away with the water. But Redtooth used the roll of the ship to her advantage, sliding down the deck just in time to catch Caledonia around the chest. Caledonia hit her head again, but Redtooth’s tether held, and when the ship rolled back to center, they hurried the captain belowdecks.
It could have killed both of them. She could have killed both of them. Pisces was right, she’d hesitated and those seconds had nearly cost everything she had to give. It wasn’t like that moment on the beach, but it felt close. She’d flinched. And when she flinched, she lost, but those around her lost even more.
Her mother wouldn’t have flinched. Rhona would have stood firm in her decisions, raced to the helm and steered the ship boldly into the storm. Of course, Rhona’s ship never would have been crosswise of a storm to begin with. Even when they’d sailed these seas long ago, she kept the Ghost on the right side of the storm. That was the kind of ship she ran. But Caledonia wasn’t Rhona. It didn’t matter who had been at the helm; their course was determined by the captain. She had let the crew down.
Pisces reached over and gave her thigh a friendly slap. “Don’t mope. Eat. When you’re done with that, we’re going topside so you can see that we did just fine without you. Because of you.” She stood to gather a fresh shirt from the old trunk she’d been sitting on, tossing it on the bed next to Caledonia. “You’ve got maybe three days to get your head straight. Going up against Electra is a new game. And we need you steely. This is the finest crew on all the seas, Cala. Believe it.”
She nodded, careful of her head this time. “I do and I’m sorry. I messed up.” She felt herself shrinking. Felt the tears warming her eyes. If she couldn’t keep her feet during a storm, what made her think she could take on a ship like the Electra?
“I said ‘don’t mope.’” Pisces nudged her again. “Or if you’re committed, then talk to me.”
“What is there to say? I lost us everything in Cloudbreak, I got us stuck in the Drowning Lands, and now this. How am I supposed to go up there and face everyone again?”
Pisces was wearing a different kind of frown now. Angrier. “How about my shoulder? Was that your fault, too?”
“Yes! Don’t you understand, it’s all my fault. Every mistake, every injury, every bad move. They’re all my fault because I am the captain of this ship.”
“Just because things didn’t go the way you wanted them to doesn’t mean you’re at fault. Cloudbreak was rough, but I needed a doctor. And you convinced Hesperus—the Sly King of Cloudbreak, need I remind you—to not only release us but give us the map that saved our lives. The grass flats was a situation of no good options, and we’d have made it there, too, if not for the Slaggers.”
“And you argued against me! Even you think I made a bad call there.”
“I’m not saying that. North might have been just as bad. Maybe worse. Fighting the Gulls a second time could have been disastrous.”
“Then why did you fight me?”
“Because that’s my job!” Pisces threw her hands down in exasperation. “I am your sister, your friend, and your second-in-command. I stand by your side and I argue with you because someone has to be brave enough to do it. You made a good choice in a bad situation, and we ended up with full stores and a stronger hull because of it.”
“Because of Hime,” Caledonia corrected. “That only happened because we had Hime with us.”
“And we had Hime with us because you’re the kind of captain that saves lost girls. Spirits, Cala, you’ve always been so frustratingly myopic. If we didn’t win, we lost; if you’re not good, you’re bad; if it’s not day, it’s night.”
It hurt her head to do it, but Caledonia scowled. “I fail to see your point.”
A laugh like a fish leapt from Pisces’s mouth. “Of course you don’t. Listen. We are being chased by the Bullet fleet. They know our ship. They know your name. We have no good options available. Everyone on this ship knows it. We rely on you to make the best possible choice in whatever situation we find ourselves, and then we follow you. Highs and lows. We follow you.”
“And what happens when I make too many bad choices? When we have too many lows?”
“What do you think? That we’re all going to wake up some morning and leave you because things got hard?”
Caledonia looked away. It was exactly what she thought. And what she deserved. If Pisces knew the truth about that night on the beach, she’d be the first to leave.
Pisces wilted. “Cala,” she murmured, moving to sit next to her on the bed. “We only have bad choices. We trust you because you always find a way through them. The only mistake you made last night was not trusting your decisions as much as we all do.”
But for now, for this moment, it was just the two of them, she wasn’t responsible for fifty-three other lives, and she wasn’t hiding a terrible secret. She leaned into her sister’s neck and let the tears fall.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Strapping in during a storm was basic. It was different from strapping in before a hard turn in the midst of battle. Those frequently occurred with only a moment’s notice. But a storm had to approach. You had time to strap in. Caledonia had certainly had time. And she’d wasted it on doubt, endangering everyone.
She felt like a novice. She didn’t have time to act like one.
Her head throbbed and her steps were unbalanced, but the more she moved, the easier it got. Caledonia had let Pisces pick the worst of the bloody knots from her hair and pull the snarls into a loose braid down her back. Later she would stand under a stream of hot water and work the tangles loose with oil and a comb. For now, she needed to push through this sluggish melancholy and get in front of her crew. They needed to see that their captain was still on her feet, and that she could own her mistakes.
By the time they climbed to the deck, she was almost at full speed. The eyes of the crew fell on her immediately. Curious, concerned, relieved. She did her best to bear it as casually as possible. She nodded, made eye contact, smiled tightly, and kept moving.
The ship was cruising freely across restless waters. Blue chop expanded in all directions; it was a sea recently stirred and full of energy. Behind them and some distance west, the skies hung dark, but here, the sun was powerful behind puffy white clouds.
“We broke free of it sometime after midnight,” Pisces said, following her gaze. “We don’t think it’s traveling this way, but Nettle’s moving us as though it is.”
“Nettle?” Caledonia turned her attention toward the bridge. “You put her at the helm?”
“She put herself there. Again, and just in time, too.” Pisces braced her hands on her hips as she gave Caledonia the rest of the story. How Tin had done her best to keep the ship steady, and how Nettle planted herself at Tin’s side and shouted commands like Caledonia herself. Soon, Tin stepped aside and Nettle was the one navigating the steep waves and lashing winds. “She did good. I doubt Lace could have done better.”
The name still stung. Pisces didn’t use it lightly but to show the depth of her approval.
“More trouble than she’s worth?” Caledonia asked.
Pisces ran a hand over her head. Her hair was nearly an inch long and falling softly against her forehead. “Aren’t we all?”
“I’ll have a talk with her. And with Tin. It’s overdue.” Caledonia felt the mantle of captain settling more firmly around her shoulders. It hadn’t fit well since Lace died. She’d let her discomfort become a distraction, and when she was distracted the whole ship was off balance. It was time to provide her crew with the firm ground of her decisions again.
Continuing their route around the deck, they found Redtooth standing on the mainmast block, her head tipped back to look up. Several feet above her, Oran was balanced along the lower yardarm near the mast, using the footrope but no harness. Around his waist he wore a belt of tools. His arms were slicked with sweat and full of the late morning sun.
“Could you move any slower? I thought you said Bullets were fast!” Redtooth cupped her hands to be sure he heard her. “Fast and hard,” she added, barely containing a laugh at her own joke.
“I said”—Oran paused to give whatever he was working on a sharp crank—“we hit our targets!” Another crank. “And yes, we hit them hard.”
“Not in my experience,” Redtooth teased.
Oran’s shoulders moved in laughter. He didn’t volley back immediately but bent over his work. On the rear deck, a small cluster of girls sat with a sail spread out between them. They were repairing it, but they sat in full sun to do it. And in full view of the unusual sight of a Bullet in the rigging.
“Captain!” Redtooth leapt from her post beneath the boy, consuming the distance between them in three long steps and wrapping her massive arms around Caledonia before she could protest. “You’re here. You’re good. Are you good?”
“I’m good.” Caledonia allowed the hug, then gently but firmly pushed Redtooth back a step. “Thanks to you.”
Redtooth shrugged and looked away. “Anyone would have done it. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
Sometimes, Caledonia was briskly reminded that Redtooth was a girl just like the rest of them. She was hard and bold and forthright, and she felt so rough that it was easy to think her heart was also those things. In reality, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“I don’t want you risking your life for me again, clear? I’m grateful, but that was a one-time thing.”
Redtooth regarded Caledonia with amused disbelief. “Ah, sorry to disagree, Captain, but that’s not something I can promise. If I see you’re in trouble, I’m going to do something about it. That’s just the way it is.”
“Red—” Caledonia started, but was cut off when Redtooth gently grabbed her face in her rough hands. Ducking her head to look straight into Caledonia’s eyes, she repeated, “That’s just the way it is.” Before Caledonia could respond, Redtooth pulled her close and pressed a quick kiss against her mouth.
This time Caledonia’s smile won out, and she pressed her palms to her sister’s sunburned cheeks.
“Got it!” Oran shouted from above. “Sail’s back in its gear and ready to come down.” He’d moved from the footrope along the yardarm to the tines along the mast. “Like me.”
“Why isn’t he in a harness?” Pisces asked, scrutinizing Oran’s situation, twelve feet up and loaded down with tools. “We have plenty.”
Redtooth grinned, conspiratorial. “Yeah. And they’re all made for girls.”
“You’re not saying he believed that?” Pisces sounded like she couldn’t decide if she was amused or horrified.
The grin on Redtooth’s face grew. She squinted up at Oran as though considering the question. “I like him,” she answered resolutely.
“Red,” Caledonia warned. “Get him down.”
“Yes, Captain.”
He didn’t need much help. Redtooth stood beneath to offer guidance, but mostly ended up teasing him about his grip. Oran laughed easily with her, letting the jabs land and throwing a few of his own. Whatever had transpired between them in the hours since Caledonia’s injury had been significant enough to win the smallest amount of Redtooth’s trust.
He hopped to the ground at Redtooth’s feet. “You wanted the gear snapped in, right? No chance for movement.”
Alarm showed on Redtooth’s face. “Snapped in? No, I didn’t want it snapped in! I—” Her teeth crashed together. “You’re joking. You’re a damn dirty Bullet and you’re joking.”
“I am,” Oran confirmed, satisfaction bright in his eyes. He was sundrenched and in the full blush of health for once. The tone of his brown skin was even instead of blotchy or fever-pale; he’d bathed and washed his clothes, and even his wrists were free of their bandages and less violently red.
Pisces hadn’t moved, but her attention landed on the Bullet like a ray of light. “You know any of those harnesses would have fit you just fine, right?”
“I know.” Oran’s smile was easy, his tone light. “But you always trust your clip.”
R
edtooth’s smile returned at that, clearly pleased that he’d taken her challenge and run with it.
“Crew,” Caledonia corrected. “There’s no clip here.”
“Right, crew,” he said. “My mistake. I’m glad to see you on your feet.”
“Don’t get sentimental,” she fired back.
He laughed. “That’s what you call sentiment?” He shook his head in disbelief, then he heaved a sigh and raised his hands. “I assume my time in the sun has come to an end?”
The answer was yes. She should be standing here to bind him and return him to the hold like the unwelcome guest he was. Except, he wasn’t as unwelcome as he’d been only two weeks ago. He’d given good information, he’d survived his withdrawal, and when she hadn’t been looking, her crew had folded him into their patterns. She could remove him from it. Lock him away until she needed him again, or she could lock him into the routine.
The fight ahead of them was filled with unknowns. He was their single biggest asset, their single greatest advantage. If she didn’t demonstrate even the barest amount of trust in him, how could she expect her crew to do the same? If they were going to risk their lives taking on the Electra, they needed to know they were doing so with good cause and good information.
Caledonia regarded the boy before her. Once a Bullet. Once a Fiveson. What would he be next? Friend or traitor? As she stood there on the deck of her ship with a brisk wind at her back, she realized there was only one way to find out.
She placed a hand on his wrists and pushed them firmly down. “Don’t make me regret this,” she said.
“Caledonia Styx,” Oran said, his smile as vibrant as the noon sun. “I suspect your regrets are few and legendary.”
He didn’t know how right he was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
On the wall of the bathroom that wasn’t reserved for Caledonia but was treated that way regardless, hung a mirror. The seamless, silvered surface was made of the same self-repairing polymer that made up every glass pane and window on the ship. It could break, but within moments, the splinter would knit itself back together. More than once, Caledonia had studied the unmarred surface with a sense of wonder. The old world had been so skilled at making unbreakable things, and yet they’d failed to keep themselves whole. They’d left behind tools and weapons and half stories and a desperate legacy.
Seafire Page 23