They were definitely in trouble. Donnally could see it in his father’s expression. They were going to be on kitchen duty for weeks, peeling and canning whatever fruits and vegetables the girls brought back, forced to endure Cook Orr’s protracted stories about the way things used to be. It was going to be hot and boring and tedious, and it was all Ares’s fault.

“Hey,” Ares said, voice capped with humor. “Donnally, I’d never let you fall. I was just playing.”

Donnally was preemptively plotting his revenge when three gunshots pierced the night sky.

The entire ship went still as a stone. Donnally met Ares’s eyes for one brief second, then the two of them turned to search the waters around the Gem. They looked for anything—light, movement, their sisters—but there was nothing for them to find.

On the deck below, the crew vaulted into silent action. They moved in all directions, readying the ship for sail. The laundry lines came down, the goats were taken below, the box gardens were carted away, and it was all done without a word, every single command given without making a sound. It was a familiar sight. Rhona ran this drill regularly, kept the ship parts seamlessly oiled and cushioned. They would be ready to go in moments.

The stretch of ocean between the Ghost and the Gem gave no indication of the little boat that carried Caledonia and Pisces. Donnally watched the choreography unfolding below him in a sort of suspension, stuck between the comfort of routine and the fear of knowing this time it was real. They were preparing to flee.

Ares gripped Donnally’s shoulder, alarm making his eyes wide. He whispered, “We won’t leave them, will we?”

Donnally wanted to deny it, but there was a coil of dread in his stomach, writhing like a snake. “Never be seen,” he said, citing the first rule of the ship.

The strength leached out of Ares’s grasp. He looked horrified and then suddenly angry. “No.”

Before Donnally could stop him, Ares had unsnapped his harness and climbed out of the nest. Without taking the time to hook on to the safety line, he began to climb down. Donnally followed. He detached his own harness and moved down the mainmast as quickly as his shaking hands would allow.

They reached the deck to find their world unraveling. Their parents stood near the bridge with their shoulders together, engaged in tense conversation.

The boys made straight for them, pushing into the circle just in time to hear Ares’s mother say, “And what if it’s nothing? What if they fired at an animal and we abandon them?”