JAMES
I’m in a terrible mood for the next few days.
Harrison and Lan stay out of my way once it’s apparent I’ll likely bite the head off anyone who crosses me.
After the conversation in my cabin, Caspian and I have been avoiding one another.
That’s the only way I can describe how we somehow haven’t found each other in the same vicinity for the last few days—coming on a week now actually—it’s not like it’s a very large ship.
I have seen him from afar though, and what I’ve seen has only served to make me more irritated.
If I thought Caspian would be in the way or subjugate my leadership on the ship, I’m dead wrong.
I almost wish he would because then I’d have a reason for my foul mood—instead, he’s been working alongside the men.
Besides his quartermaster and navigator, Caspian brought a handful of additional sailors.
A group I’m loath to admit are more than adequately skilled.
The first few days my crew was hesitant to accept the newcomers but it’s hard to dislike competency, and before long I watched them fall victim to Caspian’s charm too, which only served to annoy me further.
Instead of a big announcement about who Fox really was—Harrison and Lan had slowly acclimated the crew to his real identity.
Most of the men took it in stride, more caught up in the bit about the treasure hunt than caring about having a De’Vero prince on board.
For the most part, I kept to the quarterdeck, sometimes pacing the railing behind Lan, other times standing at his shoulder glaring out over the deck. By the fourth day of my silent tirade, Lan was so jumpy Harrison put him out of his misery by assigning him to look over charts down below.
Now, the sun is slowly setting on my left.
Tonight it’s a vivid orange and red, aggressively taking over the sky.
It matches my mood perfectly, made worse at the moment by the fact that Caspian is up in the crow's nest, laughing at something my barrelman is saying.
He leans forward over the lip of the perch, looking out over the horizon with an unguarded look of contentment and happiness on his face. I scowl, only for Harrison to scoff.
My attention flickers to him briefly. “What?”
He looks up at where my attention is focused. “Is this mood because of him?” I don’t answer and Harrison shakes his head. “Unfortunately, we can’t kill him—thanks to you—so I suggest you get the fuck over it.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “Respectfully of course, Captain.”
I take a moment to study him. He’s been less inclined to scowl as hard at Caspian the last few days.
I know something happened before I arrived on the ship—whatever it was made an impact on Harrison.
He’s had a few days to cool off from his tirade on the beach, and it appears he’s come to a different conclusion than the one he had before.
“What happened before I came onboard?”
Harrison is quiet for a beat before answering. “We fought.”
“Since you’re not actively trying to kill him, I take it you won?”
Harrison looks up at Caspian who’s hanging precariously from the perch, eyes lifted towards the sunset. Harrison’s expression is unreadable until he shakes his head and his scowl is back, albeit a lot less violent than it used to be.
“That’s debatable,” he grumbles. “He got in a few hits to make it look real but he let me win.”
Of course he did.
I can feel Harrison’s attention back on me. “You don’t seem surprised.”
I shrug. “It was the right choice.”
“You don’t think I can beat him?” Harrison sounds more amused than angry.
“I never said that,” I smirk. “It would certainly be a fight to watch. But strategically—he didn’t want to undermine your leadership with the crew.”
“I know—” Harrison says begrudgingly. “I see what you mean—he’s never what he seems.”
I grunt in acknowledgement and thankfully Harrison doesn’t press the subject.
When I look up again, I find Caspian watching me, the look from before gone from his face, replaced by a furrowed brow and that signature head tilt.
When he sees my attention, he doesn’t look away but the crease on his brow lifts and the shadow of a smirk ghosts across his lips before it’s gone .
I watch him move through the rigging, as comfortable as any of my crew, and realize he’s completely at home here.
There’s a fluidity about him that wasn’t present in the castle.
Out here, with no finery and no crown on his head weighing him down, he really does seem like a man with nothing but the sea beneath his boots and his eyes on the horizon.
It’s because he’s free out here.
The thought sends a tremor of realization through me. I’d caged him;the crown shackles him—but out here, he’s just Caspian.
He slides through the ropes, jumps over the crossbeams and lands with a thud of boots on the main deck.
He tips an imaginary hat to me with a goddamn wink before turning to Van.
My jaw tightens—his quartermaster is never far away from him and the ease when they’re around each other demonstrates their closeness.
I’ve never felt jealousy before but that’s the only name I can think of to describe the burn going on inside me when I see their heads lean close together to converse quietly.
I relieve Harrison of the wheel and stay up on the quarterdeck until evening falls.
The lanterns are lit, casting a soft glow over the deck and the sea air blows cool and calm.
It’s one of my favorite kinds of nights—the kind that lets you linger in its caress, full of nostalgia and comfort.
Voices and the sound of raucous laughter drifts on the breeze along with the smell of rum.
The men can feel it too, and I know tonight will be a rare night of revelry.
Sure enough, a short while later, I hear singing—the voice is strong, clear and really fucking good.
I don’t recognize it as any of my crew. Lan comes to take the helm and I walk down to the main deck towards the sound, thinking it must be one of the De’Vero men.
It is, but it’s the one I least expect.
It’s Caspian.
Sitting front and center, singing a song called Up She Rises.