Only a few feet away, two young men stood side by side, their heads tipped together as though in deep discussion. Lir. And Donnally.

Lir held a knife loosely between his fingers, spinning the blade against the tip of his index finger, listening with a distant expression on his cold features, while Donnally stood with his arms folded across his chest, emphasizing whatever he said with tight bobs of his head. Between them sat her pack of mag bombs and a small collection of weapons they’d removed from her body.

Nausea swirled in her belly. They weren’t supposed to be here. Lir was supposed to be on the Mors Navis in the thick of battle. And Donnally— She had hoped this moment would never come. He’d made his choice and now she had to consider him a Bullet instead of a brother.

Spitting the blood from her mouth, Caledonia struggled to sit up and climb to her feet. Lir watched her as if her presence relaxed him. As if the sight of her delighted him.

“We’re so glad you could join us.” A smile touched Lir’s star-pale eyes as he savored those words.

A spear of ice shot down Caledonia’s spine and she searched Donnally’s expression for any sign that Lir was lying. Muscles flashed in Donnally’s jaw and he kept his eyes resolutely away from hers, letting Caledonia’s worst fears take root. This was a trap. One laid by both Lir and her own brother. Lir always knew how best to take advantage of her weaknesses. Her mercy.

They’d anticipated her perfectly.

“This started all those turns ago with the two of us on an island,” Lir continued. “It was always going to end the same way. You and me.”

“It won’t end the same way.” Caledonia struggled against her bindings.

“Have you come to surrender to me?” Gunfire sounded relentlessly in the distance and Lir shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like surrender.”

“It will soon,” she promised.

Lir’s eyes narrowed in sharp amusement. “Donnally,” he said, taunting and cruel. “I’d like a moment alone with Caledonia. Take her mag bombs and sink them.”

“No, Donnally,” she said, fighting to keep her voice from betraying her terror as Donnally stooped to collect the bag and swing it over his shoulder. “Donnally, don’t do this. Use those bombs instead! I know you think he’s your brother and maybe—maybe he is, but if that’s true, he’ll be your brother even if you destroy this place.”

Donnally paused just long enough to raise his eyes to hers. They were a deep brown, just like hers, but where she expected regret and submission, she thought she saw something more defiant.

“From Silt comes strength,” Lir said. “My brother knows that as well as anyone.”

“You were strong before,” she said, pleading with her brother to remember.