It was, Almond thought later, exactly the kind of move a person made when winning mattered more than anything else standing in the water. Drevane's ship came about hard, guns already run out, and struck Velmoor's already-strained hull in a coordinated broadside that Corrin Vale had no ships left to spare defending against.
The sound of it rolled across the sealed water like a door slamming shut, and every deck in the ring felt it.
"They're not ready for that," Marcus said, watching Velmoor's deck erupt in fire and splinters. "Nobody's ready for an ally turning predator mid-fight."
Rudra's jaw tightened. For one long second the old argument every commander eventually has with himself played out plainly across his face. This was the fight, and letting Velmoor fall was, by every cold measure the event offered, good for Ananta Regalon's chances.
"Helm around," he said anyway. "We're not winning this by watching someone else drown."
