Pine, Tin, Ares, Folly, and Gloriana had all returned from the perimeter, more than a few injuries spread out between them. They’d come early in the day to give their report, telling Caledonia exactly how the attack at the gun towers had initially gone wrong when one of the teams had been spotted on the ground. The resulting fight had delayed their entrance into the towers themselves, leaving Caledonia’s fleet to fend for itself. Finally, they’d gained entry, and each team had fought to wrest control of the guns from Lir’s Bullets.

“We think Tug’s team was losing control,” Pine said, voice falling. “They were in the first tower that blew. Tug must have ignited a bomb rather than let Lir keep the tower.”

“He died with glory,” Gloriana supplied.

The word settled uncomfortably with Caledonia. Tug had fought for her yet died for an idea she opposed. It was a strange tension of opposites. “He will be remembered,” she promised.

The city wasn’t as deserted as it had at first appeared, and Sledge, Pine, and Ares had spent the rest of the day dealing with everyone Lir had left behind. There were children who’d been born here, children who’d been conscripted, and their assigned caretakers; there were Hollows and adults who were all too ill or elderly to fight. Every one of them had needs and more than a few of them needed Silt. Figuring out how to contain them as they came through their own necessary withdrawal was a frustrating, delicate process. One Caledonia was grateful to hand over to Ares.

Pisces and Hime worked tirelessly to assess the damage of their crew and every vessel left in the fleet, while Far assigned herself the task of evaluating their food stores, and Gloriana was overseeing the prison itself. And though Oran would have preferred to spend the day at Caledonia’s side, she persuaded him to examine Lir’s armory for anything they should dismantle or destroy.

In the blink of an eye, the day had passed, and Caledonia was left with an overwhelming sense of having accomplished nothing. She didn’t even know her way around the city, and all day she’d been making decisions about what belonged where and how many people to keep on each of their ships at any given time and whether or not they should repair the breakers first or the towers.

Every decision felt momentous. And like a monumental distraction from her true mission. Any minute Lir could come rushing back and steal the Holster from her while she was still trying to decide where everyone should sleep.

She was supposed to be running a war, not a city.

“Pi, come with me,” she called when there was a break in the constant stream of administrative business.