Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,99

twirl in tight circles, sipping from the bottles of cherry wine that landed in her hands. When she tipped her head back, the stars winked, catching up the sparks of the fire in the dark spaces between.

All that surrounded her were the threads of that reel, the untethered laughter of her sisters, the searing kiss of that fire, and the cool promise of the night. Her head spun just enough to be pleasant, and sweat slipped from her temples to her chin, making her shiver.

Amina moved with grace, her braids swirling around her shoulders. Her dark skin shone, and her laughter was a low, rumbling sound. Hime was like a seedling spinning through the air, quick and frenzied, her pale skin slashed with shadows. Tin’s lithe figure seemed to slip in and out of the light, flashing here and there. Nettle was like a firefly, popping in and out, punctuating the space between her sisters with her smile. And Pisces was the sun, her arms flung wide and her dark eyes bright and uncompromising. These were her sisters, her warriors, and they were glorious in their joy.

Soon, the moon had climbed high in the sky and Caledonia stepped out of the circle, giving herself a moment to catch her breath and watch them revolve around the fire in an endless ring. The faces had changed, but the energy that wove between the dancers was just as perfect and powerful. There was Oran and Pine and Sledge. Even Harwell had joined the dance.

With a contented sigh, Caledonia turned away from the fire, aiming for her quarters. Before she’d gone more than a few steps, however, someone called her name. She turned to see four girls trailing one after the other with hurried paces.

The Mary sisters. Tin was in the lead and behind her, Shoravin, Abrasin, and Erin carried a bundle between them, their arms curled protectively around a mass of dark fabric. There was still a breath of a second when Caledonia searched for Lurin before remembering, and sorrow sank sharp teeth into her heart.

“Captain,” Tin said in greeting, an unusual smile on her face. “We thought now was an appropriate time to share something with you.”

Caledonia’s gaze flicked to the bundle, but the girls made no move to reveal it. “What is it, Tin?”

“When we first joined you, we were looking for a place where we could be angry and safe. We wanted to fight, and we wanted to hide, and that’s exactly what you promised us on the Mors Navis. Hit hard; hide fast.” Tin paused, and Caledonia nodded at the familiar words. “But that’s not the case anymore. It hasn’t been for some time.

“We aren’t hiding anymore. You definitely aren’t hiding anymore, and we think it’s time we made ourselves even more visible.” Tin gave her sisters a nod and they began to unfurl the fabric. “Tomorrow, you’re going to lead a fleet that’s entirely your own. We thought it was time we made that fleet official.”

The fabric opened and the girls raised their arms to reveal the design. At first, it was nothing but a black flag, then small solar cells stitched into the center began to glow, revealing a pattern little by little until Caledonia’s family sigil glimmered in blue and white. Soon, the glimmer transformed into a brilliant glow. Here on the wharf, it was overwhelming, but hoisted high over a ship, it would be a beacon.

“We found a stash of clothtech,” Tin explained.

“And a whole bunch of unused solar cells,” added Abrasin, her chin resting in the black fabric with hands on either side. “Erin had an idea how to weave them into the cloth so that they made a pattern.”

Erin, standing between Abrasin and Shoravin, ducked her head at the admiring tone in her sister’s voice. She’d been painfully shy all the turns Caledonia had known her, and she was rarely seen without at least one of her sisters.

“We wanted to make sure there was no doubt which ships were yours,” Shoravin said, fluttering the fabric so the sigil shimmered. “So anyone else who’s angry can find you like we did.”

Caledonia didn’t know how a single flag was going to do that, but before she could raise the question Tin spoke again. “We’ve made thirty-five. Not enough for the fleet, but most of it.”

“Thirty-five?” Caledonia moved forward to lift a corner of the flag, and ran a hand over the solar scales.

To make that number in the time they’d had, they must have