Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,42

them difficult to avoid. Of all the possible ways to approach the Gem, this one came with the fewest number of obstacles. She’d selected it because it was the easiest one to explain and map. Anyone with her instructions should be able to navigate the route without any trouble.

The familiar scent of fragrant scrub plants on the air reminded Caledonia of nights when she would lie on her belly along the nose of the Ghost, listening to the water singing against the hull as her mother called quiet commands to her father. From Rhona, Caledonia had learned to read the water and commit its secrets to memory. Later, when she and Pisces were on their own, she’d learned to thread their ship through the deceptively simple channels with greater and greater speed until she had surpassed even her mother’s skill. Now she needed these same waters to protect her again, and it seemed strangely fitting that she should return to them in the wake of another terrible loss.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see this place again.” Ares joined them at the rail, eyes tracing the once familiar outline of the islands. “Brings back memories I’d rather forget.”

Pisces pressed a hand to his arm and his lips tipped into a sad smile. “There were good ones, too. Remember those shells Donnally used to collect?”

“The purple ones,” Ares answered with a laugh. “They were always in his pockets.”

Caledonia hadn’t thought of Donnally’s purple shells in turns, but suddenly, she remembered them vividly. He kept so many that their dad threatened to get rid of them, so Donnally started hiding them anywhere he could. Even inside his pillowcase. “He was going to make a mask with them. A crab mask.”

“Why purple, then?” Pisces asked.

“Because of the sky.” Ares tipped his head back to study the darkening dome above. “He was always talking about constellations and stars and making stories out of nothing. He wanted his mask to be like the crab constellation. And the purple shells were as close as he could get to the blue he wanted.”

“I still don’t know why he was so obsessed with crabs.” Pisces murmured.

Caledonia rarely ventured into her memories of her family, not until they surged out of her mind like a ship in the night and gave her no choice. When she thought of her mother or her father, or Donnally, she pictured them doing whatever they’d loved most, but as the three of them conjured her little brother, she remembered so much more. Early mornings on the bow practicing their knots while her father demonstrated and corrected their loops; stormy nights spent belowdecks with the entire crew bundled together around rousing card games; afternoons working in the box gardens while Pisces and Ares’s mom played her breathy pipes.

“Our dad,” Caledonia explained. “Donnally used to have nightmares. He’d wake up crying and afraid because he was too little to fight. Dad told him that sometimes being small was its own kind of protection. Like crabs. They’re very small and even though they have mighty claws, their first instinct is to burrow into the sand and wait until the danger passes. They don’t have to fight to survive.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember him that way.” Ares’s voice dipped low, heavy with memories of a different Donnally.

Caledonia had a few memories of that Donnally, too. She pinched her eyes shut, doing all she could to hold on to the Donnally of the past, but he slipped away. All that was left was her brother’s stark expression as he said, “I can’t abandon my brother.”

“Gunners ready!” Pine’s voice jolted them from their reverie as they neared the meeting place. “Stay alert!”

Nettle steered the Luminous Wake using only the thrusters for power. Gloriana followed close behind, sure to tack and adjust precisely as Nettle did. They emerged as the sun slashed the Gem’s white sands and dense green forests in bands of gold and fiery orange. For a moment, it shone like its namesake, glittering against the gloaming like a jewel. Fanned out a short distance from its shore was a sight that brought Caledonia’s heart to her throat.

Thirteen ships.

Her ships.

Her crew cheered and lowered their weapons, their relief at discovering they were not alone too enormous to contain. Pisces hugged Caledonia’s arm to her body.

“This is good,” Pisces whispered, pressing a kiss on her sister’s cheek. “Let yourself know this is good.”

“I do,” Caledonia promised. This was so much more than she’d dared to hope for. She turned to look