“One night a dozen recruits . . . a dozen children tried to steal a prowler in the middle of the night and escape. But I knew it was going to happen, and I was waiting for them. I let them take the ship. I let them think they were getting away.” Sunlight spilled through the orchard and over them, glinting off a sheen in Oran’s eyes. The apple of his throat plunged up and down as he worked to gather himself and keep telling the story. “When they were a half mile from the barge, we circled them. Five ships to corral one. It was more than we needed, but I wanted everyone to see how futile it was to try and escape Aric. How dishonorable.

“I remember how perfect it was that night. We’d gone north to avoid some summer storms, and the air stayed heavy and humid. We were always uncomfortable. But in the middle of the night, under the light of the Sheering moon, there was just enough of a breeze to make everything pleasant. I almost needed my jacket, but I was so proud of my first band.” He raised a hand to his bicep, clutching at the place where his scars marked his skin.

When he dropped his hand again, Caledonia caught the echo of a tremble. The sight nearly brought her to call this off. She didn’t want him to share this pain. She didn’t want to carry any piece of it.

But it was already there. And closing her eyes to it wasn’t going to help anyone.

“I brought the rest of the young recruits out on their barge. I made sure they could see their former companions.” He drew in a long breath, exhaling sharply. “None of them were full Bullets yet. Their punishment was up to me, and it certainly wasn’t the first time someone or even a group tried to escape. There were many options available to me. But I wanted to make a statement. I wanted to demonstrate, for all of them and for Aric, just how deserving I was.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. It winked in the sunlight, then plunged to the dust at his feet. Caledonia looked away, bottom lip clamped firmly between her teeth.

“I told them that the only way they would survive was to jump overboard. Relinquish the ship and prove they still wanted to be here. They did. All twelve jumped into the water. And then I told them that their ticket out of the water again was to kill one of their peers. To drown them or be drowned themselves.”

Before this moment, Caledonia hadn’t given herself room to consider the tortures of the Steelhand. In her mind, the tide cans and the small blades existed in the realm of Slipmark. But that wasn’t exactly true. They were the designs of a single mind: Oran’s mind.