The thought swept the wind from Caledonia’s lungs and she placed a hand on the rail to steady herself. One day. It was a powerful thing to hope for, and she realized with a sudden crushing sadness that the only future she’d ever imagined for herself was the one in which she slid a knife into Lir’s belly.

For Nettle, she could hope for better things.

“Captain.” Tin approached from the main deck. She looked ghostly in the dim light, as though the fight had leached her capacity for anything but grim sorrow.

“Who did you lose, Tin?” Caledonia asked, her gut crimping.

The girl’s mouth pinched and twisted. Her eyes were suddenly wet and full of moonlight. “Lurin,” she said, a gasping, painful word.

Lurin Mary. A memory bloomed in Caledonia’s mind. Of the day they’d run the trails together, when Lurin had led the entire crew at a steady pace. When she’d endured the teasing of her sisters and her captain with a cheerful smile and a ready laugh.

“She fought well,” Caledonia said, letting grief soften her words.

Tin’s eyes brimmed with tears. She ground her teeth against them and swallowed hard, clearing her throat to speak in a voice that was all fire and stone. “I have a damage report.”

Bitterly, Caledonia realized that their world had been reduced to a single ship. The damage report Tin would offer would not include all of Cloudbreak, nor would it account for all the lives that had been ruthlessly ripped away in an instant.

“Continue,” she said.

“Our injuries are more structural than mechanical. We can sail as long as we’re careful about it, but there are two sections of the forward hull that we’ll need to patch sooner rather than later.”

“Can we get free of the canals?” Caledonia asked, and when Tin nodded, she added, “Good, tell Harwell to plot the course out of here and get us moving.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Pine!” Caledonia spotted him along the port rail, reloading and replacing the guns snapped beneath. He turned at the sound of her voice. “Keep our gunners ready. There may be more surprises waiting for us before we’re free.”

Pine gave a smart nod and returned to his task as the ship nosed through the narrow canals. The night air was cool and brisk, the canals close and dark and quiet, wrapping them into a false sense of security. Caledonia walked the deck, murmuring words of encouragement to her crew as she passed. These were dangerous moments: when the raging storm of battle broke and bodies yearned for rest. Only when the far western walls of the canals appeared before them did Caledonia call for an all stop, giving the repair teams one hour to accomplish their work.

Early ribbons of sunlight pushed across the domed sky, sweeping darkness along until the canals were filled with a hazy, ethereal kind of light. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and the repair teams rappelled down the hull of the ship with metaltech plates and welding masks.