In other words, I can’t think right now. Stop trying to make me.

“Hey! You made it!” Jake gripped my shoulder and hunkered down between us, the sleek, Empire-style tablet in his free hand. His drying sweats were salt-stained but cleaner than anything I’d seen since landing. “Well done! How was the trip?”

“How was anyone’s?” I looked him over. Not a scratch on him. “Except yours, I guess.”

He glanced away. “Yeah, I got off easy.”

“You missed the ambush.”

“Got the tail end. Max wanged off a few good ones, then ran out of ammo. We were up front with a boatload of Smith kids and elders, and I’m . . .”

“I know. A lover, not a fighter.”

“ ‘To thine own self be true.’ So I made our skipper scoot. We were here before the storm really cut loose.” Jake let go of my shoulder so he could tap at the tablet’s screen. “I’m counting heads. Two more live ones accounted for.”

I nodded toward the makeshift morgue. “Have we lost many?”

“A few. Any is too many. But between Revs and Stormies and the friggin’ weather, it could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

“Weather’s not done yet,” murmured Daniel.

“Neither are the Stormies, according to Doyle. He thinks that girl will have learned a lesson or two about attacking before her people are ready. And that Rousseau giving up those provisions will only encourage her to try again.”

Daniel shrugged, rinsing his bloodied rag in the basin. “But it might put the notion of trade into her head instead.”

“Always the bright side, Dan.” Jake peered at Julian’s slack face. “Is this a Macy I missed?”

As if. Julian would be horrified.

“My brother,” Daniel said. “Julian.”

“Didn’t know you had one. Is he gonna make it?”

“Doc says he’ll be fine.”

“Good to hear.” Jake stood up briskly. “I’ll add him to our list.”

“Max came through okay?” His familiar face had cheered me, like things were getting vaguely back to normal. Whatever that would be now.

“Oh yeah. She’s upstairs claiming prime turf for Ladysmith.” He grinned. “I think she wants her own sky box.”

“I could go for that,” Daniel said. “Are there a lot of them?”

“I heard, fifty or more.”

“Mmm. Could get nasty.” Daniel rinsed the swab again and started on Julian’s face.

“Rousseau’s pushing for a lottery.” Jake nudged Daniel’s arm. “Take care of your bro.”

I watched him go off. He was actually whistling. “Never seen Jake so . . . cheerful.”

“Relief can hit you that way.”

Finally, Daniel let me in to help, and together, we cleaned Julian up, got his wounds salved and bandaged. I was taping a square of gauze over a nick on his cheekbone when his eyes fluttered, then lazed open.

“NO!” He flailed at my wrist. “Leave me a- . . . !”

“Sorry. Almost done,” I murmured.