When she’d seen everyone who could walk to her, she made her way to those who were too weak to stand. She knelt by their beds and squeezed their hands, looked into their eyes and spoke their names. They were glad to see her even if they were angry with her, too. She could feel their resentment at war with their relief, and she knew that she’d earned that conflict by abandoning them. It didn’t feel good, but soon it would be in the past, firmly woven into the fabric of their lives.

“Whose ship is this?” Folly called, a demanding edge to her usually gentle voice.

“Mine,” Caledonia answered simply. “Along with some new friends.”

Caledonia turned to Pisces. It was hard to see her and not feel a swell of pride and affection. She was thinner than she’d been, all hard edges and defined muscles on her broad frame, and there was evidence of strain carved into the skin around her eyes. She’d been holding this crew together for months in Caledonia’s absence. Now Caledonia was back, and everyone expected a new plan of action.

With a steadying breath, she faced her girls again, and now she traced the missing faces. “Darlo. Kit. Genevene.”

“We lost Kit when we were taken,” Tin said.

“Darlo and Genevene died in Slipmark,” Amina added. “Their wounds were too great.”

Folly stepped forward. Her cheeks slick with tears. “Pippa drowned.”

Caledonia frowned. She’d seen Pippa on top of the tide can Oran had opened. She’d been one of the first in the water; she should have been one of the first out again.

“She waited for me,” Folly answered her silent question. “And she got hit. I couldn’t save her.”

Caledonia felt her own tears falling in a seamless stream down her cheeks. “Lost,” she said.

“But not forgotten,” the rest answered solemnly.

Four. They’d lost four girls. Counting the five they’d lost in the Northwater, they were a crew of forty-five, including Ares.

“Eat your soup,” Pisces commanded gently, gesturing for Caledonia to join her.

Pisces turned and moved briskly into the passageway, giving Caledonia the sudden and distinct impression that they were going to fight. But that was absurd. Wasn’t it?

All their lives, Pisces had been nearly impossible to push into real anger. As younger girls, they’d argued over small things like who was using more than their fair share of paint to practice their letters or who’d taken the best fishing pole. Pisces had always been calm and observant of others, especially Caledonia, and that skill had given her the ability to see rising tensions before they snapped. She was the overwhelming tranquility of the deep ocean while Caledonia was the capricious surface, constantly in motion. But Pisces was angry now. Caledonia was sure of it, and she didn’t know how to prepare to face it.