Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,83
as Oran instinctively tried to make fists.
“Where are you going?” Caledonia demanded. “We agreed to enter the city together. After the initial sweep.”
“Lir destroyed the baleseeds!” Tassos shouted, driving his face toward hers. “That’s what he was firing on. The bale stores! And if I don’t get what I came for, then I’ll consider our alliance through.”
Caledonia lifted her chin and held her ground. “Should I do the same? I came for Lir and I don’t have him, but if our alliance is over, then I’ll invite you to leave my city.”
She shouldn’t be so reckless with him. She knew it, but her patience was spent.
Tassos loomed over her, chest heaving. “I’m going to search every inch of this city for Silt, and you’re going to let me,” he said, voice menacing and strained. “Or you’re going to have an even bigger problem on your hands than my anger.”
The threat was clear enough: Tassos was out of Silt and so were all of his Bullets. If they didn’t find something to satisfy their craving, they would spin out of his control. They would feel no pain and their violence would be aimless and hungry. With so many of their people already ashore, the situation could turn rapidly against her.
She might even lose control of the Holster.
Caledonia stepped forward, no longer as certain as she needed to appear in this moment. “If you’re about to lose control of your Bullets, then you have two choices: either you get everyone on board whatever seaworthy ships you have and leave my city, or you stay in my prison hold while you get clean.”
His hand snaked out, crushing her wrist in a powerful grip.
Behind her, Pisces started forward, but one of the three Bullets was there first, stopping Pisces with the barrel of a loaded gun.
“Release my hand,” Caledonia said, voice steely and low. “And we’ll discuss this.”
Tassos’s lip curled and sweat stood out along his forehead in spite of the cooling afternoon. Caledonia saw the answer in the twist of his shoulders but had no time to prepare before his fist crashed against her cheek and drove her into the ground.
Blood coated Caledonia’s tongue. Her vision flashed white and pain speared her from cheek to cheek. She rolled, dodging a second strike and finding her feet in one smooth motion. Then she stood, throwing a hand in the air to stop Pisces and Oran from rushing to her defense.
“I consent to your challenge, Fiveson Tassos,” she said, wiping the blood from her chin.
The street was abandoned but for the eight of them. Caledonia would have preferred more of a Bullet audience for this fight, but the four here would have to do.
“Caledonia, this wasn’t the plan,” Pisces said, coming near.
“It is now,” she answered, spitting blood from her mouth. Tassos had no more room for reason. He was furious and half out of his mind for want of Silt, and for fear of what his Bullets would do when he couldn’t provide it. The only language he would understand right now was violence. “A clean fight between the two of us is the only way we avoid a Bullet uprising.”
“Let me take the fight.” Oran moved in close, his face mere inches from hers, his eyes burning with a cold, distant fire. “Let me do this for you.”
“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Even if your hands were completely healed, you couldn’t do this for me, Oran. You know that.”
Frustration showed in the flare of his nostrils, and for the first time in her memory, she knew what Oran looked like when he was worried. His eyes darted down, and his shoulders shifted forward and back before he looked at her again. “Please, Cala. You don’t need to be the one to do this.”
“But I do.”
Pisces looked uncomfortable. “What do you want us to do?” she asked.
“Don’t take your eyes off them,” Caledonia answered smoothly, eyes still locked with Oran’s.
“Understood,” Pisces answered.
“Cala—” Oran started and stopped. “Stay steely.”
“You too.”
With a grim nod, he stepped back. He and Pisces planted themselves near enough that if something went wrong, they’d be ready.
“You have made your last mistake,” Tassos said, raising his fists.
“Every time I think that’s true, I surprise myself,” Caledonia answered, waiting for his shoulders to tell her where he meant to move. He might be as broad as the ocean, but she’d learned to read the ocean a long time ago; reading his shoulders was no different.