Swallowing, she shook her head. Wynn had almost ended up among that number, wrapped in canvas and given to the sea. But Lizzy had reassured her that now the wound was stitched up, as long as she had good food, plenty of rest, and her smelly poultices to keep infection at bay, she would be fine.

Her heart squeezed. On the deck of the Covadonga, it had felt close, though. She’d feared for Wynn. Wild Hunt, she’d even feared it was her own time, that she’d failed her team.

But she hadn’t.

The battle was over now, and this was after. This was the time to celebrate and let relief wash over them and wish farewell to those lost.

Knigh needed reminding of that.

“Look at them.” She jerked her chin at the gathered men and women as a waft of smoke touched her nostrils. “We were in a bad way when those marines came out. If you hadn’t joined us … I’m not sure how many would have survived.”

He watched the crew, lips pursed.

Who knew what vastness was going on behind that small expression? After seeing his rage today, the idea of him as an emotionless automaton felt ridiculous. He wore a mask of control, perhaps over emotions as deep and powerful as a riptide.

His chest rose and fell in a long, slow breath.

She touched his shoulder, and it was warm as always, despite the forest’s shadows. “What matters is that we’re here, we’re alive for now, and we have treasure to celebrate.”

His brows rose slowly and, blinking, he turned his grey eyes to her. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Why, Vee, that’s almost philosophical.”

She laughed and started towards the bonfire, tugging at his arm. “Well don’t get too used to it, because I intend to spend the rest of the evening getting philosophical with a bottle of rum.”

Across the cove, Saba, Lizzy, and Aedan emerged from the tree line, carrying round clay jars.

“Ooh.” Vice’s eyes widened. Those jars meant one thing. “Hold the rum, I think Saba’s made palm wine.” Mouth watering, she bit her lip and gave him a sidelong look. “Have you ever had it before?”

“No, it’s expressly forbidden in the Navy, though I’ve heard of its”—he cleared his throat—“formidable reputation.”

She scoffed. “My dear Captain Blackwood, you are in for a treat.”

Sweet and strong, palm wine fermented quickly. Saba must have started the batch this afternoon. Tonight, Knigh would definitely forget about his fears.

Tonight, they would celebrate.

* * *

The palm wine was just as sweet as she remembered, the songs were raucous, and the dancing stomped through the sand, wild as only people who’d stared death in the face could be.