Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,112
together into a kind of island and were covered in thousands of baleflowers. Their orange petals thrived in the sun, each one burning against the sea like a tiny spark of fire. The sight of them left Caledonia uneasy. They were lovely and dangerous and the urge to eradicate them was a constant thrumming in her blood, but destroying them wasn’t the answer. In that way, they were a little like Bullets. The next part of this fight wasn’t going to be about blood and guns, it was going to be about hearts and minds. She had to let both exist if she wanted them to change.
These were the new Bullet Seas. They would need a new name. One that promised something other than violence and fear. Sledge had taught her the power of names. The sooner they stopped calling people Bullets, the sooner they’d stop acting like them.
There was still so much to do before they disbanded the fleet. And after that, there would be even more. Removing Lir from power was a start, but they would have to put something in his place. Maybe several somethings. And they had to do it quickly or the likelihood of finding themselves right back where they started was high. Sister was still out there, and others eager to siphon power for themselves.
But before all of that, they needed to release some of this tension. They needed to eat and laugh and take a moment to revel in what they’d accomplished together.
Caledonia let her eyes travel slowly across the seas, settling on the exploded husk of the rig. A symbol of conflict and war. What she needed was a symbol of change. She turned her eyes back to the baleflowers. Their blooms were so vivid and so dangerous still. And exactly what she needed.
* * *
>><<
The night sky was open and clear, and moonlight pooled in the center of a thousand baleflowers drifting out to sea. As people stepped onto the island of bale barges, they cut a flower and dropped it into the water. Together, they would clear the soils and create room for a new future.
Caledonia stood at the edge of the barge with a blossom cupped in her hands. They were surprisingly firm, yet soft, and deep inside the cave of its mouth the petals sank into a brilliant blue. Just as Lir had depicted them on the wall of his quarters. They really were like small flames. Capable of burning you from the inside out.
“They’re like stars.” The voice startled Caledonia. She hadn’t expected her brother to attend, but she turned to find him standing close behind her. In his hand, he also held a single blossom.
“How so?” Caledonia asked.
“They burn too hot.” His thumb pressed into the center of the flower, forcing its petals open in a perfect circle. He tossed it into the water and raised his thumb for Caledonia to see the slick of orange nectar left behind. He stared at it for a long moment before wiping it along his pants leg. “It’s hard to look away.”
“I should have taken you with me.” Caledonia surprised herself with the words. She’d thought of a hundred things she might say to her brother when they were finally together again. This was not among them. “That night when Mom wanted to send you, and I told her to send Pi with me instead.”
The frown that appeared on Donnally’s face was the same one she’d seen that night on the Ghost. Equal parts fear and frustration. “It isn’t your fault,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I didn’t want to go.”
She nodded, knowing it was true, but also knowing that she’d regretted leaving him behind since the moment it happened. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nia,” Donnally said with a sigh. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Apologize.” He ducked his head to look straight into her eyes. His own were rimmed in red. “I guarantee I have more to apologize for than you. You are the only reason we get to have this conversation at all. You.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought of all the things Donnally might have to apologize for. “You can tell me anything,” she said, giving him a steely look.
A rueful smile bent his lips. “Maybe.”
Her hand warmed around the blossom, and she was glad to have something to hold onto as she considered the one question she truly wanted the answer to. “What made you choose me?”