In addition to the Beacon’s capacity to emit a tiny shock wave and destroy mines from afar, they discovered a cache of weapons down below, nets, and detachable arms that would allow the ship to trawl for fish. While the food stores would have been enough to keep the Bullet crew fed, it wouldn’t have supported the small army of recruits they were supposed to gather.

“He likes to break us down before he builds us up,” Pine explained when he saw Caledonia’s confusion. “He wants starvation to be one of our most exquisite memories. Conscripts and pledges alike. Everyone learns what it is to starve before he brings you to the table of his glorious goodwill.”

Bitterness sharpened every word. He regarded Caledonia with a callous eye, as if she couldn’t know what it was to starve. It sparked an anger in her—of course she knew what it was to starve. She was on the edge of responding when he dropped his gaze to the crates of food.

“The casing of any good bullet must be tough and hollow,” he said, as though reciting a well-known rule. “So that it might be filled with pure, explosive intention.”

It was a glimpse into the lives they’d led, and something of an explanation of the people they’d become. Another piece of the puzzle snapped into place. The younger and hungrier you were when you were introduced to Silt, the less likely you were to question your dependence on it, and by extension Aric. It was a thorough and deadly trap.

Pine stepped in close, his chest brushing her shoulder. “That’s how any Bullet is made,” he said quietly. Her cheeks warmed, and she suddenly realized that he’d offered all of this because he wanted her to understand—where they’d come from, what they’d endured, and, perhaps, who he was.

The moment passed quickly, swept away by the demands of the day.

The first time they spun up the propellers, Caledonia felt just how different it would be to sail this ship. A tinny hum reverberated throughout the hull, and the propellers cut loudly into the ocean. Water sluiced from them, leaving a churned trail in their wake for an easy half mile. Even the vibration of the deck was more sluggish than she was accustomed to. This ship was nothing like the Mors Navis, but she needed to find a connection to it regardless. She needed to focus on its strengths—stability, inertia, heft—so that when the time came, she could wield it like a weapon.

With the Blades divided into teams and given assignments, she took them on a short run along the westward coast. It was like sliding into a coat that didn’t quite fit. Each maneuver played out differently than Caledonia expected, and she longed for her sisters.

With her sisters at her side, the task ahead wouldn’t feel as daunting as it did.