Skye pulled off her cloak and tossed it over a chair. She locked the door and stood there for a long moment. She felt the ship set sail and just for a moment…she let the sea rock her.

Tears filled her eyes and at long last, her composure crumbled. She fell across the bed and sobbed as if her heart would break. She covered her face with her hands to hide herself from the world that seemed determined to break her.

But after a moment she sat up. "I won't give in," she murmured. "I've not been beaten yet." She stood and went over and washed her face. She faced herself in the mirror. "Not by a long shot," she said fiercely.

She was dressed in a white shirt and tight black pants. Her tiny black boots hugged her calves and her thick black hair was pulled back into a simple French braid. Around her waist was a black belt with a silver sword and two pistols.

She pulled out the sword and studied its blade with a practiced eye.

There was a light knock at the door.

"Come in." Skye unlocked the door. She tilted her blade to the light and admired the reflection.

"Are you ready to tell me what's going on?" asked Shaun as he came in. He tossed himself into a chair and regarded her with lazy green eyes.

Skye didn't even look at him.

Shaun studied his sister's face and his eyes sharpened. "You've been crying."

"Jack's dead," Skye said quietly.