BEFORE
The stars felt close tonight. From his place cradled in the nest, far up the mainmast on a night as dark as this one, Donnally felt they were especially near, almost within reach. He loved that illusive, unsettling feeling of suspension. If he held still, breathed just right, he could convince his mind that it was as possible to sink upward into the sky as it was to slip into the sea. For a split second, his body was as light as air, and the entire universe was at his fingertips. When he reached up to pluck a single star from the glittering array, the illusion broke. In a flash of disorienting dizziness, he was part of the earth again, with feet firmly planted on the floor of the nest and head tipped up.
“Would you quit picking at the sky?” Ares slumped against one side of the protective bowl that encircled them both, bored and tired. The combination made him irritable. Like his older sister, he was destined to be tall with broad shoulders and long arms. His skin was the same sunny brown as Pisces’s, and his hair was long and black.
“Why does it bother you?” Donnally asked, tipping his head backward over the lip of the nest so that the ocean became the sky.
He heard Ares sigh and crack his knuckles. The truth was it probably didn’t bother him. What bothered him was being awake at this hour and the way the nest tipped back and forth like a pendulum. At twelve turns each, the boys had been friends long enough for Donnally to recognize when Ares’s irritation was an arrow in need of a target. And he’d been the target frequently enough to know he’d rather avoid it, so when Ares didn’t answer, Donnally didn’t press.
They’d been posted as lookout for nearly an hour, long enough for Caledonia and Pisces to reach the nearby island called the Gem and start foraging, but not quite long enough to expect them to return anytime soon. Donnally leaned even farther over the edge of the nest, letting his arms hook around the railing and the blood rush to his head. The ocean was all gentle black chop. It lapped against the hull of the Ghost as the tide swept in, pushing them back and forth.
Suddenly, Donnally felt a foot hook beneath his own and kick upward. The force lifted his whole body, and he began to slip over the edge of the basket. He shrieked, arms flailing. Then hands gripped his knees and tugged him right back into the nest, where Ares was hooting with laughter.
“You know you’re strapped in, right? You can’t actually fall?” Ares laughed all the harder, bending over to brace his hands against his knees.
Donnally didn’t find it funny in the least. He lunged for Ares, aiming a fist for his face. But Ares was taller and stronger. He deflected Donnally’s blow easily, snatching the arm of his gray jacket and whipping it off him in one smooth motion. The jacket flew into the air and fluttered toward the ground, where it landed in a heap.
Now Donnally was mad. He felt his temper burning in his cheeks and in the curl of his fists. He roared and dove for Ares again.
“Boys!” The voice belonged to Donnally’s dad, and it stopped them dead in their tracks. They’d both be in trouble for this. It didn’t matter that Ares had started it. There was no roughhousing in the nest. “Sounds like you need something else to keep you occupied.”
Donnally peered over the edge, sure to keep a firm grip on the railing this time. He spotted his dad standing near the port rail, chin tipped up to watch the boys, a gray coat pulled over his shoulders.
“Found your coat,” he called to Donnally.
Ares laughed again while Donnally fumed. “Thanks.”
They were definitely in trouble. Donnally could see it in his father’s expression. They were going to be on kitchen duty for weeks, peeling and canning whatever fruits and vegetables the girls brought back, forced to endure Cook Orr’s protracted stories about the way things used to be. It was going to be hot and boring and tedious, and it was all Ares’s fault.
“Hey,” Ares said, voice capped with humor. “Donnally, I’d never let you fall. I was just playing.”
Donnally was preemptively plotting his revenge when three gunshots pierced the night sky.
The entire ship went still as a stone. Donnally met Ares’s eyes for one brief second, then the two of them turned to search the waters around the Gem. They looked for anything—light, movement, their sisters—but there was nothing for them to find.
On the deck below, the crew vaulted into silent action. They moved in all directions, readying the ship for sail. The laundry lines came down, the goats were taken below, the box gardens were carted away, and it was all done without a word, every single command given without making a sound. It was a familiar sight. Rhona ran this drill regularly, kept the ship parts seamlessly oiled and cushioned. They would be ready to go in moments.
The stretch of ocean between the Ghost and the Gem gave no indication of the little boat that carried Caledonia and Pisces. Donnally watched the choreography unfolding below him in a sort of suspension, stuck between the comfort of routine and the fear of knowing this time it was real. They were preparing to flee.
Ares gripped Donnally’s shoulder, alarm making his eyes wide. He whispered, “We won’t leave them, will we?”
Donnally wanted to deny it, but there was a coil of dread in his stomach, writhing like a snake. “Never be seen,” he said, citing the first rule of the ship.
The strength leached out of Ares’s grasp. He looked horrified and then suddenly angry. “No.”
Before Donnally could stop him, Ares had unsnapped his harness and climbed out of the nest. Without taking the time to hook on to the safety line, he began to climb down. Donnally followed. He detached his own harness and moved down the mainmast as quickly as his shaking hands would allow.
They reached the deck to find their world unraveling. Their parents stood near the bridge with their shoulders together, engaged in tense conversation.
The boys made straight for them, pushing into the circle just in time to hear Ares’s mother say, “And what if it’s nothing? What if they fired at an animal and we abandon them?”
“If that’s the case, they’ll survive two days.” Rhona Styx stood with her arms crossed and a rifle slung over her shoulder. “I don’t like this any better than you do, Agnes, but our girls know what they’re doing. They’ll wait for us.”
“But we should be the ones waiting for them.” Agnes planted her hands on the round curve of her hips.
“Boys!” Donnally’s father cried in alarm. “Who’s on watch?”
Whatever happened on Donnally’s face was answer enough. His father cursed and raced toward the mainmast, but it wasn’t soon enough.
“Captain,” a young man named Bandi called from the bridge tower. “We’ve got trouble. An assault ship. They’re close, and they’re on course to box us in.”