She walked confidently through the narrow passageways, ducking where the piping scooped low and stepping neatly over the occasional hatch. This time, she took the lesser used corridors leading to the storage rooms near the nose of the ship. It was there she found Pine.

He stood beside a long table bolted to the floor bearing an odd collection of objects. There were rocks and bullets, a few assorted carvings of wood, scraps of cloth all in shades of gray, even a few small pieces of tech.

Pine didn’t look up when she entered, though he knew she was there. His focus was on a bit of metal cut into the shape of a bird, which he polished with an old rag. His movements were slow and methodical, almost meditative. When he finished, the bird was clean and bright. He moved on to the next and the next, setting them down or stringing them together in sets of three.

These were tokens for Triple. They didn’t have her body to care for so they were building a memorial to her. One by one, the Blades had come to this room, bringing anything that reminded them of their lost friend.

“We have more of her than they ever will,” he said.

Caledonia wasn’t sure when she’d started crying. Hot tears splashed against her jacket. She pictured Triple striding past Nettle, protecting the girl, and giving Gloriana the time she needed to escape.

And for that, they’d left her behind. She would be collected and displayed on the crown of some Bullet ship, used to spread fear across the seas.

“We can honor her, put her to rest,” Pine continued.

He wasn’t angry with Caledonia, though he had every reason to be. She felt her thoughts slipping quickly toward regret and willed her mind to become as still as the ocean. She closed her eyes.

“It isn’t your fault.” Pine was standing in front of her now, peering down at her as though her thoughts were as clear to him as daylight. “We all consented to be here.”

“You did,” she agreed. “But every time I ask people to fight, I am in some way responsible. I have to be, or all of this becomes meaningless.”

“We give this meaning,” he said, holding her with a gaze as steady as the sun. “And when we decide to risk our lives, the only one responsible for that choice is us. Not you.”

Always, Pine brought her to this place of uncomfortable honesty. “But I’m still choosing the fight. Putting you all at risk.”

Pine stepped closer, taking her in with his eyes. “Caledonia, if you are willing to let us kill for you, you are also willing to let us die for you. You can’t have half of that equation.”