Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,76

Caledonia expected Tassos to pounce on her at any second, but he remained conspicuously absent until midday, when she spotted him crossing onto the megaship from the bridge of the adjacent ship.

In the full sun, sweat gleamed on his broad shoulders. His brow was furrowed, his fists clenched, and there was a splatter of fresh blood across the front of his shirt. He glared as Caledonia stopped in front of him. She dropped her eyes to the blood, and just below to where that remote trigger was always clipped next to the hilt of a knife.

“Do we have a problem?” she asked.

“Not anymore,” he said. Anger simmered beneath every word.

“We sail at first light, Tassos. If we have a problem, I need to know. Now.”

Tassos bared his teeth and flared his nostrils. “Follow me.”

Tassos strode into the megaship, charting a swift course to his quarters. After a brief moment to acknowledge that following this man into a small room was surprisingly not the worst idea she’d ever had, Caledonia trailed him inside and shut the door.

When Tassos spoke next, his voice was thick with distaste. “Sedition.” The word was as much a mark against him as it was those who’d committed the act. “I’ve had to make a few changes to our Silt rations to stretch our supply and keep as many of my Bullets in fighting form as possible. Some get their usual dose; others get less. When Bullets don’t get their Silt from me, they start looking elsewhere. Five Bullets were caught attempting to defect. And when a limb is sliced and there is blood in the water there is only one way to save the body.”

Caledonia frowned, unsure that she liked where this particular metaphor was leading.

Tassos leaned in again, his hands thumping against the blood darkening his chest. “Take the limb.”

Bullets had died today. There was no doubt about that, but Caledonia suspected more than those five had suffered from this mood of Fiveson Tassos.

“You said you had enough Silt to make this work,” Caledonia said. “Was that a lie?”

Tassos snarled, stepping close enough for her to see the thin coat of sweat painting his forehead. “I said I’ll make it work and I will.”

“You need your dose,” Caledonia said, marking the pallor of his lips.

“Mind yourself, girl.”

“Until we take the Holster, your business is my business. Do you have control of your fleet or not?”

The muscles in his jaw flashed and Caledonia had the impression that if he’d been at full strength, he might have done more than glare at her. “I have control,” he growled.

“One more thing,” Caledonia said when he’d swallowed. “I’m calling the shots out there.”

Now Tassos moved. He stepped forward, reminding her that he was the punishing wave and she the tumbling stone. “No one commands my fleet.”

“In this fight, it’s my fleet.”

“And why shouldn’t it be mine?”

Caledonia raised her eyes, holding her ground. Tassos liked to try to obscure the truth with his size or his might, but Caledonia had had several days to study him, to peel back the layers and find what lay just beneath his mask. He wasn’t as cunning as Lir, but he didn’t like to lose. And he would do whatever it took not to lose to Lir. Even if that meant giving ground to Caledonia.

“Because you can’t do what I can.” She pushed her chin forward and Tassos moved back so slightly she almost missed it. “You may know how to defend your Net, but you don’t know how to fight at sea. This is my plan, my strategy. You have your hands full minding your own clip, so I’m calling the shots. Agreed?”

Tassos narrowed his eyes. “I look forward to the moment our alliance ends, Caledonia.”

Caledonia heard the threat in his words. Lir would have been more explicit, but then, Lir had been dreaming of her death for a lot longer than Tassos.

“Ready your ships, Fiveson.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

They sailed out in double-arrow formation, like two giant birds skimming low across the waves. In their wake, the stationary ships of the Net stood like silent sentinels. Each bore a cohort of ten Bullets. More than enough to keep watch and hold the line if necessary.

No additional ships had responded to Caledonia’s call. She couldn’t blame them, but the absence of any additional aid hung heavy in her heart. The thirty-seven ships of Fiveson Tassos, each marked with deep purple starbursts, brought their total fleet to fifty-six. Their scouts, who could only surveil the Holster from