Jubilee is barely conscious as I untie her hands, and she’s murmuring incoherently—maybe in Chinese again, I can’t tell. There’s a storage room up closer to the harbor that’s been a cell for a long time now, for use if anyone got too trigger-happy and needed to cool their heels overnight. It was too exposed, too easy for someone to wander by and discover her, but now I wish I’d locked her there and left her unbound. No matter who she is or what she’s done, she doesn’t deserve to be tied down, unable to defend herself against a man half mad with grief and anger.

With Sean’s help I move her up to the storeroom, ignoring the faces that watch us go. They all know now who we’ve captured—there’s no point hiding her anymore. There’s a ratty mattress in the corner, and we lower her down there. Sean shoots me a long look and, without another word, vanishes again. I know he’s going to make sure that McBride stays where he is.

I pull a blanket over her still form before crouching beside the bed to study her face. The cavern’s bathed in the soft, eerie green glow of bioluminescence—the wispfire that grows all over Avon likes to cluster in these damp caves. But despite the poor light, I can tell her face looks ashen, her dark hair a wild tangle, so out of place on such a perfect soldier. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach out and smooth it back. Instead I run my hands down her side, keeping my fingers light. Her ribs are broken—that much is certain when her voice tangles in a sob at my touch. Her breathing is steady, so I think her lungs are okay, and she’s not coughing blood. The beating’s opened up the wound from my gun, though, and she needs treatment as soon as I make sure no one else gets the bright idea to take their rage out on her.

My gaze lifts to find her watching me through my examination, her brown eyes grave.

I was wrong, I want to say, my lips frozen. I scan Jubilee’s bruised face, her lips parted and brows drawn. All she’ll care about now is that the Fianna tied her down and beat her. In a single stroke, McBride has managed to destroy any chance I might have had at convincing her, at convincing any of them, to listen to me.

I push to my feet in silence, ignoring the lead in my heart and setting the canteen down beside the bed for her. I have to get out there and try to limit the damage—I know what McBride will do if I’m not there to counter him. The light of the wispfire is dim, but at least she won’t be trapped in darkness again. Then I shut the door behind me and double-check the lock before I walk away.

They’re already fighting in the main cavern when I walk in. Sean and McBride stand toe to toe, two dozen others crowded around.

“And if they say yes to a trade, and we don’t have her alive?” Sean’s demanding, heated, ready to start shoving. “What then, genius?”

But McBride’s no fool. That’s exactly what he’s hoping will happen. Standing in the doorway, I ache for my sister. She’d know what to say to them. But she’s gone, and it’s left to me.

“We can’t kill her.” I stay in the doorway, fists clenched. “There are people here who have family in town. The last thing we need is for things to get worse, for the trodairí to start using them against us. We don’t want to break the ceasefire.”

McBride’s gotten himself mostly under control again, but his gaze when it swings around to me carries murder in it. If he hated me before for not being my sister, he despises me now for standing between him and the trodaire.

“What use is a ceasefire when we’re dying out here anyway?” He turns away from Sean, and the ring of onlookers parts so he can pace away a few steps. “How has our situation gotten any better in the last ten years? We never should have shied away from direct action.”

“This isn’t just any prisoner,” I point out, forcing my voice to stay low. “She’s Captain Lee Chase. Until we know what they’ll trade for her, we have to wait.”

“They won’t trade.” McBride’s voice is heavy with cold certainty, and I see more than a few heads nodding in response. “They’d rather see her dead than us getting what we ask for.”

“You don’t know that for sure. We’ve never had an officer captured alive. We’ve never tried this.” I step forward and they part for me, letting me walk toward him. “What if they’ll trade medical supplies, or send back prisoners? Kill her now and we lose those options.”

“Always dreaming. They’re not your friends, Cormac, they never will be. The trodairí are TerraDyn’s lackeys, and TerraDyn wants to hide Avon’s pain, their failure, from the rest of the galaxy. Nobody’s coming to help us. We have to help ourselves.”

“And we will, by…” My voice dies in my throat. Behind him I can see Martha in the doorway, and I know she’s come from the radio room. The tight lines around her mouth speak for her. One by one, the others follow my gaze, and she waits until silence has fallen. There’s an apology in her eyes when she looks at me, but she can’t change her message.

“Well?” McBride’s voice is rough. “What did they say?”

My gut twists, and all the aches and pains and exhaustion of the last day come rushing back at me, so I barely hear her reply.

“We don’t negotiate with rebels.”

One of her eyes is swelling shut, and the rise and fall of her broken ribs is painfully shallow. She’s awake when I ease open the door, but she doesn’t speak. I push it closed and cross over to sink down beside her on the stone floor. Her shirt is wet with blood where the wound in her side has opened up again.