“Have you come here to fight, brother? Or surrender?” There was something both buoyant and cruel about the way Tassos spoke, as though either option would bring him joy.

“We’ve come to talk.”

“Ah, yes, the girl.” Caledonia had never seen Tassos, but she could hear the grin in his words now.

“The captain,” Oran corrected him.

“The obsession,” Tassos retorted. “It is interesting, and I suppose not all that surprising, that the two of you are so fixated on the same girl. I have to admit, I’m curious to meet her. But the longer she stays in my waters the more likely it is Lir will return. I should sink you here and now. Take something precious from him. And you.”

“You won’t find us so easy to sink, Tassos.” Oran didn’t blink as he delivered the threat.

Tassos laughed. “My Bullets have rigged your friends with enough mag bombs to crumble an island. Send any of your ships forward and they blow. Do anything but leave here and they blow.”

“That rot fish!” Nettle punctuated her declaration with a sudden slap against the wheel.

Caledonia clenched her teeth. The Bullets had disabled Silver Fleet, and while they sat helplessly, seeded the water around them with mag bombs. In the space of a breath, Tassos could take half her fleet from her. She was ready to snatch the radio and tell Tassos exactly what she intended to do when Oran spoke once more. This time, his voice was smooth and cool, the whisper of silk across skin.

“Keep them,” he said. “Hold them hostage while we talk. If you don’t like what she has to say, you can pull the trigger.”

At this, Tassos hesitated, and when he answered there was an unmistakable hint of interest in his tone. “I want you there, Steelhand.”

Oran’s expression was an impenetrable mask. Whatever existed between them still, it was dangerous. Caledonia had the sudden overwhelming urge to protect Oran from it. And the terrifying knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to.

“I’ll be there.”

This elicited a long pause. “One ship each to the center,” Tassos said at last. “You have five minutes and then we open fire.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“He will try to intimidate you.” Oran checked the clip of his sidearm before returning it to its holster. “And he’s always been a little . . . unpredictable.”

“He’s not my first Fiveson.” Caledonia checked each of her weapons. Oran was hiding something, she just wasn’t sure what.

“I know, I just—” Oran stopped himself, looking up at Caledonia with a grim determination. “He’s . . . not Lir.”

Caledonia narrowed her eyes, trying to decipher what Oran wasn’t telling her. As she gave him a tentative nod, a call went up on deck.

“Bow boat on approach!” Folly shouted. “Ready lines!”