And yet, even in her weakened state, the thought of driving her blade into his heart was dangerously alluring.
“You must be quite the catch if they were willing to spend so much time on you,” Sledge continued, lightly probing for additional information. “That, or Fiveson Lir feared the Steelhand’s punishment for losing you.”
A dark expression rose out of whatever memories were tethered to that name: the Steelhand. Caledonia wanted to ask, but that wasn’t the information she needed right now.
“Your bomb left a nice spot of damage in their tower, but I doubt it slowed them down any,” Sledge continued. “They got Electra back on her keel and tugged her carcass with them when they left. Leave no scrap behind, you know. Her parts’ll be transformed and back on the water inside a one-moon.”
Lir had been the first to tell her of Aric’s propensity for reclaiming destroyed vessels, and she found that she understood something more about the man who called himself the Father. Aric didn’t use ships, guns, or people without a thought about what he would need tomorrow or ten moons from now. He used them knowing he would need them in the future. Bullets were fed and cared for and, if they survived, eventually they would return to the Holster or one of the other eastern towns. They’d settle into a slower kind of violence and raise children for the Bullet fleet. Before, she’d only understood this as an oppressive manipulation—after all, they had no choice in the matter—but it was so much more than that. Aric’s power wasn’t the furious burning fire she’d once taken it for, but a garden like the ones he kept in his AgriFleet. Aric’s power had roots.
“You said you found my tow. Where is it?” Caledonia asked.
Sledge shook his head in wonder. “You’ve been on your feet for two minutes, and already you’re thinking about getting back out there? On a tow?”
“I’d take a boat if you had one to offer,” she replied.
It took him a moment to respond. His lips pressed tight together and he shifted to face her, eyes narrowed and studious.
“No boat,” he said finally. “But your tow is moored in a cave low on the cliffs. Hidden at high tide. It’s not an easy climb. We’ll take you when you can stand up without breaking a sweat.” A frown appeared. “Or sit for any length of time.”
She could ignore the words, but they didn’t change the fact that over the course of their conversation her body had weakened considerably. She was still upright, but there was a faint tremble in her sides that indicated it wouldn’t last much longer.
“Good. Thank you.”
Sledge climbed to his feet with a shake of his head. Stooping to gather her discarded plate, he said, “Get some rest, Caledonia. Tides know you’ll need it.”
For a second, it looked as though he wanted to help her back to her tent. If he’d offered, she might have accepted, but then he nodded in parting and left her there to make her own way back.
Caledonia tipped her head back to study the dimming sky. She pulled a deep breath into her lungs, willing her body to hold steady. A thin spray of stars pushed their light between skimming clouds. Somewhere far from here, her girls were studying those stars and using them to guide their course. A small piece of her heart hoped they would follow those stars back to her. They shouldn’t. They should make for the Net and find a better life on the other side of it. But oh, how she wanted them to return for her. She wanted it so keenly that a spark of hope wedged between her ribs like one of those stars, glimmering against all reason.
With a frustrated growl, Caledonia climbed to her feet. Her body trembled with the effort. It was a visceral reminder that she was stuck here until her strength returned. She turned her eyes toward the ocean, one thought holding space in her mind: her crew. In spite of everything—distance, time, injury—they would be fine, and she would find her way back to them.
CHAPTER FIVE
The first time Caledonia left her tent without invitation and without guard, she was certain it was a trap. At the very least, a test.
Since receiving the nanopatch, she’d slept hard and long, awakening each morning to find herself covered in a slick of sweat. After three days of this, her ankle no longer ached, and she finally felt like her body had enough energy for more than the few exercises she could accomplish in her tent.
In spite of being assured she was not a prisoner, she was surprised to find the guard post next to her tent empty. It was midmorning, and the camp buzzed with activity. Nearly everyone was gathered in the central open space, sparring and cheering one another on. The clashing sounds of wooden staves punctuated their shouts and laughter. And on the other side of the group of sparring Blades, a single figure stood with arms crossed. His eyes planted on her.
Pine. She’d recognize those coiled muscles anywhere. There was nothing like being pursued and slammed into the ground by a person to learn all the ways their body was also a weapon. He watched her now with perfect focus, the way a bird of prey might watch a mouse in an open field. It made her skin crawl, but it would be foolish to assume she wasn’t being watched. At least Pine made it obvious.
Though she’d been in camp for nearly two weeks, it was still very much a mystery to her. And the only way to unlock a mystery was to start.
Avoiding the gathering in the center and Pine’s intense gaze, Caledonia directed her steps toward the treeless rise along the fourth side of camp. Her body was stronger than it had been, but even so it was challenging to walk at a moderate pace. The last time she’d suffered such an injury—also at Lir’s hands—she’d been alone with Pisces, and while the girl had salvaged a few of the medical essentials from the husk of the Ghost, she’d healed without the benefit of a nanopatch. By comparison, this was practically painless. Still, she needed her body to recover quickly. Every day that passed here was another day between herself and her crew.
The air was brisk and clear, the sun stood boldly in a bright blue sky, and she thought if only she could find the ocean, she wouldn’t feel so trapped. Just as she reached the base of the sloping hill, a figure appeared at the edge of her vision, stalking her every step. Without turning, she knew it was Pine. Even his silhouette had a brooding air about it.
She might not be a prisoner, but neither was she trusted. She ground her teeth and pushed onward, climbing the hill while Pine remained at the edges of her awareness, matching her step for step. It didn’t matter if she picked up her pace or slowed down, Pine stayed level with her. What did he think she was going to do? Run? Light a signal fire for the next passing ship?
Mid-stride, Caledonia pivoted and charted a path across the field directly toward him. If he was going to irritate her, she was going to return the favor.
At her approach, Pine paused. He turned to face her but made no move to meet her halfway. He waited until she came to him.