28. The aftermath.
The aftermath.
JAYCE
I n history books and stories, no one ever talks about the aftermath of battle.
Of what happens when the enemy is vanquished and the deluge has passed.
Yet, this is the hardest part. The time when the danger is gone, when your blood slows in your veins and you can take a shaky breath.
When you finally have a moment to make the tally of what you’ve lost, of your wounds, visible or not. When you have to face the consequences.
I can’t always remember all the battles I fought during the Crimson War—memories blur into one long fever dream with the smell of blood, cannon powder, and the echoes of screams and gunshots—but I remember each aftermath vividly.
I carry them like stones in my pockets, smooth to the touch after years of fiddling with them.
This is one of those moments. Harlow pulls off his dragonhide helmet and drops it on the smoking deck. Myrval is already a speck on the horizon. His mad plan worked, but the damage is done, and the people of Dragonest scream below us as their homes and loved ones burn.
I take off my own helmet and disregard it, too, before embracing him. He sags in my arms, and I bury my nose in his sweat-damp hair. “You’ve done it, my sweet dragoner. You’ve fended off a dragon of legend.”
A wet laugh escapes his lips. “I barely remedied the situation I created…”
“You’ve done what no dragoner has done before: you faced a furious dragon and lived to tell the tale. You also helped stop some rich assholes’ nefarious plans, and thanks to you, they’ll face judgment, even beyond their death.”
“But at what cost?”
I kiss his forehead. “The cost is significant, but thanks to you, not as terrible as it could have been. Now come, lover, let’s get out of these smelly suits.” They reek of fear—ours and the ones who wore them before us.
Harlow pulls back, his eyes brightening at the word lover. The aristocrats and their madness have robbed us of our time together and our mutual discoveries, and I intend to rectify it. But for now, I need to keep him busy to forestall his crashing out.
Freddy—who has already taken off the mismatched parts of his dragonhide suit—helps us get out of ours. Alara flies us toward the hospital where we left Kuroki. It takes time, for without the sails, the Blunder is more difficult to steer.
The building has been spared from damage, even as townhouses burn around it, but the place appears empty.
“We left Kuroki to your father,” I say, answering Harlow’s surprise.
“Then he must have taken the patients to his boat. Since the riots a few years ago, he always has an escape route for his patients and nurses.”
We push the Blunder a little farther until we’re at sea, and Harlow points toward a two-masted ship.
Wilbur is pacing at the bow, looking about to jump into the water to reach the ship sooner.
When we finally lower the ramp, he’s the first one to board.
Quick words with Dr. Prince, and he’s off below decks.
“He’s fine,” says the doctor as the rest of us reach him. “We made it out of the city before dragonfire reached the docks.” Then his eyes widen as his adoptive son runs over the ramp and throws himself into his arms.
“Thank you, Dr. Prince,” I say when they end their embrace moments later.
“No, thank you for bringing Harlow back. And for saving the city, apparently. We saw you face the dragon up there in the sky. Soon enough, they’ll sing songs about you.”
Harlow sways on his feet, exhaustion etched on his every feature, and I drop an arm around his waist to keep him against me. Dr. Prince watches us with raised eyebrows and a little smile, but he says nothing.
“Can we take Kuroki?” I ask.
“He’s been awake more often since we evacuated.
I lowered the drug dosage. He’s in less pain now that his hand has been amputated.
You can take him. Here or with you, he’ll be fine as long as you change his bandages every two days and apply the balm I’ll give you.
The first thing he asked was where you were, and how to join you to fight the dragon. We had to threaten to knock him out.”
I chuckle. “Doesn’t surprise me. Thank you, Doctor.”
“He’s in the third cabin.”
Harlow is already rushing below decks, and I follow. We cross the cargo hold, full of worried patients lounging on stretchers and swaying in hammocks. I find Harlow frozen in the narrow doorway of the cabin. As I reach his side, I understand why.
Kuroki has his hand buried in Wilbur’s red hair, and they’re kissing—with a lot of tongue, I might add. Wilbur is holding him up in his arms, cradling him as close as possible with just enough room between them to let them kiss.
Harlow looks stunned as we exchange glances.
“ Told you ,” I mouth before putting a finger in front of my lips and gesturing for him to follow me quietly. “Let’s give them a little more time,” I say when we’re finally far enough.
A smile is fighting to appear on Harlow’s face, and I pull him to me for a kiss, too. These are the moments that make it all worthwhile, especially in the aftermath of the events of this week.
As we reach the upper deck, Freddy, Alara, and Gia have been hard at work cleaning the dragon blood covering the Blunder with buckets of seawater hauled by the Doctor’s crew. When they ask us how Kuroki is, we answer them truthfully, and they cheer for the end of his unrequited love.
Half an hour later, we finally interrupt the two lovers to transfer Kuroki to the airship.
He cries over everyone’s shoulders before his condition catches up to him and we give him his drug concoction.
He falls asleep on his stretcher a few moments later, gripping Wilbur’s hand in his like a lifeline, and we carry him into his cabin.
We say our goodbyes to Dr. Prince and fly away. Dragonest is still burning, but they’re on their own now; we’ve given enough. Harlow watches the sky, darkened with smoke, and Alara pulls him into a tight—and almost threatening—embrace, as if she could smother the pain out of him.
We follow the coast north until I find us a spot to anchor the Blunder on a remote beach. By now, our weariness runs so deep, we barely have enough energy to exchange words. We drink bowls of soup Gia made—just enough to nourish our bodies—and we all disappear into our cabins.
I help Harlow undress, as we’re both still covered in dragon blood and grime.
His father cleaned and stitched his wound before our departure from his boat.
I trail my fingertips over the bruises covering his skin, and he kisses a few of mine.
There’s nothing sexual about our touch; we’re both too tired.
But we’re alive, and we’re together, and we can’t seem to keep our hands to ourselves.
I guide him to my bed and pull his naked body alongside mine. He buries his face in my chest, and I cocoon him with my arms. He falls asleep almost immediately.
And finally, with him and my crew safe at last, I allow myself to rest.
I’m not sure how long we slept, but I remember waking up to relieve myself and drink water twice.
When we finally both stir as one, groggy, the sun is setting through the remaining yellow glass panes of the large window behind my desk—a warm breeze blows through the broken ones.
The light hits Harlow’s sleepy face, making him appear heavenly.
I kiss the tip of his nose, and he smiles crookedly.
There is an imprint of the sheets on his right cheek, a testament to his deep slumber.
“Good morning, Your Royal Highness,” I say.
“Mornin’ Captain,” he croaks. “Gods, I need a bath.”
“We all do. I’m not sure if our water supply survived the damage, but we’ll make it work.”
The Blunder flies, but she went through a lot, and today we’ll have to take stock of what needs repairing—again. My poor ship can’t seem to catch a break.
“Thank you.” He buries his face in my chest again, voice shaky.
I caress his hair. “Everything for you.”
And we both know it’s not an empty promise.
I risked everything for him, and I would do it again.
This is the danger of attraction when you’re the captain, and the very thing I was worried about when I understood the hold Harlow could have on my body and heart.
And yet, I can’t seem to regret any of it.
His shoulders shake with his first quiet sob, and as I whisper, “I’m here,” his tears come pouring out.
From the way he hides his face, I know he was the kid who cried in the dark with no witnesses. I rub his back and caress his neck, feeling blessed to share this moment with him.
“When they took you, I felt like I was losing my mind,” I admit, face buried in his hair.
Harlow takes a sharp intake of breath, nails scraping my chest. “I couldn’t sleep.
I couldn’t fight the fury. Stay with me, Harlow, even just for a little while.
I need… time with you. And I’ll take whatever you want to give me. ”
He answers my plea by surging upward and capturing my mouth. Our kiss is wet with his tears, but oh so delicious. We’re both still naked, and heat pools between us. Harlow arches in my arms, rubbing his body on mine, and I realize with delight that he’s hard.
We’re bruised and dirty, our skins taste like ash, but there’s no stopping this. I push Harlow onto his back and grab both our cocks in my right hand. One hip thrust with both our lengths rubbing together, and we’re already losing it.
Harlow moans into my mouth as our bodies touch relentlessly, sticky with sweat. We won’t last long, but that’s not the point. Our need is carnal and urgent, and it calls for release.
Harlow cries out, fingers digging in my shoulders, and he comes in my hand, adding wonderful lubrication to the friction. I chase my orgasm and come seconds later. Semen drips to his stomach.
We relax, forehead to forehead, as I hold myself on top of him not to crush him. We kiss again, sweetly this time.
“We should check on the others,” Harlow says eventually.
His tears have dried, and color is back on his face after a long night’s rest—or an entire day’s rest, judging by the sunlight pouring through the window. We slept for a day and a night.
“Let’s get cleaned up as best as possible,” I say.
We use the bottle of water I keep in my cabin to wet a cloth and clean the mess on our stomachs and chests before going out. These parts are now the cleanest of our bodies, and Harlow snorts when I point it out.
We find all the others in the galley, eating breakfast. The dragon damaged the hull on this side of the ship with her claws, and sunlight shines through a gap in the bulkhead. The floor is covered with dust and debris, and a few cupboards broke during the crash.
Kuroki sits in my leather chair, covered in blankets and pillows. He looks a little pale, his eyes bruised, but a smile stretches across his face when we arrive. “Look who’s finally rousing.”
“How long have you been up?” Harlow asks.
“Less than an hour,” Gia says, kissing both our cheeks. “But these two were already eating their way through my stocks.” She gestures toward Kuroki and Wilbur.
“Hey, I need energy. I have skin to regrow!” my cousin jokes, waving his bandaged stump and arm.
I wince.
“Oh, yeah. He’s being real cavalier about it,” Alara says with a chuckle while biting into a slice of bread.
Kuroki nods. “I lost a hand, not my cock. Stop being so torn-up, all of you. You’re only making things worse. And Wilbur promised to make me a cool prosthetic.” He grins fondly at the inventor, whose smile still looks a little tight with a soul-deep pain.
“Very well, joke away,” I concede. “But stop waving your stump around, dumbass, if you want to regrow skin.”
Harlow walks around the table and hugs Kuroki’s head to his chest without saying a word, who reciprocates by caressing his hair with his good hand.
This instant feels fragile, our minds raw from everything that happened and our bodies in need of healing. Against all odds, we’ve all survived—we’re luckier than most.
“I need coffee,” I say.
After breakfast, we account for all the damage to the ship.
The sails need to be replaced, of course, but we have some spares in the cargo hold.
The hull requires extensive repairs, but she held up, considering a dragon of legend attacked us.
Wilbur hammers for a few hours, consolidating some parts to ensure they will hold until we can reach the Devils’ Cove while we sort out what can be.
We were lucky, and no bottle so liquid-fire broke during the attack.
Our fate would have been quite different if they had.
Kuroki’s pain caught up with him after a time, and he accepted to drink his concoction of drugs and go back to bed for a few hours.
It’s at sunset that we finally call it quits.
The Blunder is as good as she can be, considering.
We’re all sweaty and even dirtier than this morning, so I order everyone to take a dip in the ocean.
Kuroki refuses to be left behind, even though he can’t get his wounds wet, so we carry him down the ramp and place him on pillows in the sand.
He observes, slack-jawed, as Wilbur undresses to his pants—am I imagining things, or is he taking his time and flexing?
We share a quick glance with Alara, and from the way she smiles, I know she’s thinking the same thing.
But who am I to judge when I do exactly the same thing seconds later? Harlow watches me, a hungry look on his face as I pull my grimy clothes off.
Later , I promise him with my eyes.
Freddy is already carrying Alara and Gia in the water, a woman under each arm, screaming in delight. It gives me an idea, and I swoop Harlow in my arms before he can finish undressing, and he laughs as I run to the sea, my feet dragging in the still-warm sand.
Kuroki whoops loudly from the beach.
We fall into the water, and I never let him go, even as we resurface. When he kisses me, his lips taste like salt. But unlike his earlier tears, they have the aftertaste of hard-won happiness.