JAMES
If I wasn’t holding the bars so tight, my hands would be shaking. It’s been at least a few hours, and the vision of Malik standing behind Caspian is forever burned into my mind, along with the hungry look of a man who was enjoying every second of pain he was inflicting.
I’m going to remember this. I’m going to remember this so I can make him pay.
I’m still trying to catch my breath—the anger I feel inside me is nearly overwhelming to the point I can’t sit still. Caspian is lying in a heap where they dropped him, blood still running down his back.
I felt helpless, watching—not able to do anything but try to convey to him he wasn’t alone.
I’ve been alternating between pacing the bars and watching him, willing him to wake up. When I finally do hear a groan from him, it sends a rush through me.
“Caspian.”
He slowly drags himself to the back wall and leans his shoulder against it. I follow along the bars but he doesn’t look at me. He drags his knees up and buries his head in his hands. I don’t know what to say, so I slide down and sit with my back to him, trying to occupy my thoughts.
I’m about an hour into an elaborate escape plan I’ve put together in my head when I hear the clink of chains behind me, and his voice brings me back to the present. It’s strained but it’s a hell of a lot better than silence.
“Truth for a truth, Captain.”
I want to scoff at the ridiculousness of that right now but instead I stay silent, waiting for him to go on.
“Will you tell me what my family did to you? ”
I frown at his question. Most people know about my vendetta, but they don’t know why. They don’t know the horrors that happened before I was made a slave. They only know that one day, the Stormbreaker had appeared from the bowels of a De’Vero slave ship and began his tirade on the Seven Landings.
“Your family tore mine apart,” I say. “Your father’s soldiers came and destroyed my city—” My voice is rough, choppy, and I realize I’d never told this story to anyone before.
Even Harrison only knows I was once a slave, not how I became one.
“They broke into my home…raped and killed my mother—” I hear him shift behind me.
When I look over my shoulder, he has a pained expression on his face but his eyes are still tightly shut.
“I don’t know what happened to my sister—I was taken, forced into servitude in the bilges of a ship in your father’s fleet. Took years to fight my way out…”
I press my hands flat against my thighs, willing my memories to stay back.
The familiar weight of these manacles bring it all terrifyingly close to the surface.
The blisters from the oars, the whip marks on my back—the cries and pleas and darker sounds happening in the shadows—a shiver wracks my body.
Caspian is silent for several beats. “You don’t know what happened to your sister?”
This time when I look over my shoulder, he has a curious look on his face, his blue eyes glittering in the dim light.
I shake my head, my throat growing tight at the thought of her.
“Never saw her again after that day.”
I look away again so he can’t see the emotions on my face. The ones I hide away from everyone because it’s easier than feeling the utter emptiness in my chest at the thought of her.
“Her name was May,” I add—I don’t know why. Maybe because saying her name out loud makes her real. She existed and I don’t want anyone to ever forget that, least of all me.
Caspian sighs. “My father is an asshole,” he grumbles bitterly. “I had a sister too—” His voice sounds far away, like he’s also floating in the past. “Her name was Charlotte.”
This is news to me. I never knew there had also been a De’Vero princess. I turn so I can see him better.
“What happened to her?”
“She was murdered.” He scoffs. “You were right—when you said I’d failed someone—” He meets my eyes. “It was her.”
My chest hurts because he says the words like the wound is still as fresh as the ones on his back. The pain in his eyes is warped with guilt. I know what drowning in that guilt feels like, and to know I drove the knife deeper makes me hate myself.
“Is Malik the one who gave you those scars I saw?” I ask.
Caspian’s jaw clenches along with his fists but he nods. “Yes. A long time ago.” I wait to see if he’ll give me more but he doesn’t.
“You should have told me,” I mutter.
He scoffs. “Really? And what could you have done about it?”
My jaw tightens and I glare at him, the irritation at the situation coming back in a rush.
“What could I have done about it?” I seethe.
“I have fucking connections here. Powerful ones. Have you noticed he hasn’t touched me?
” Caspian’s eyes sharpen with understanding.
“He won’t touch me unless he wants to be in serious shit—that’s why you should have told me.
I could have—” The word protected is on the tip of my tongue. “—avoided this.”
“Guess I should have trusted you, huh,” he states dryly.
I just frown at him. “I told you I don’t like liars.”
“Trust is a process, Captain.”
“Aye,” I snap. “A process you’re not really participating in.”
His brow furrows in annoyance. “What do you mean? Yes I have.”
“Not really—what I do know about you I’ve had to infer for myself. You’ve told me some pretty words and showed me you can sing—that’s about it.”
“That’s not fair,” he protests.
“Aye, it’s not, is it?” He’s actively glaring at me now.
“I know you have a crown on your head, the sea under your boots—belonging to both, but claiming neither. You use your charm to redirect, and your power comes from your assurance that no matter what, you’ll get what you want.
You care—deeply—about people, some who aren’t even yours to care for,” I say, thinking back on the way he comforted Raul.
“You run into danger like it’s your God given penance to burn.
And yet —you shy away from the shadows that spill from you because God forbid you understand yourself.
Maybe you think you don’t deserve to know—” I shake my head.
“But don’t sit there and pretend you’ve been vulnerable with me.
I’ve opened up to you way more, and I don’t even like you! ”
I finish in a huff and Caspian stares at me as I glare at him. He blinks like he’s thinking over everything I’ve said. The lack of a scowl on his face makes me think he’s realizing I’m right.
I know I am.
“You don’t like me?”
“Caspian—” I warn.
He chuckles and gives me a sheepish smirk. “If we get out of here—”
“When,” I snap.
Caspian gives me a strange look but nods. “When we get out of here, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Why not now?”
The humor disappears as if it was never there. “Don’t make me be vulnerable in here, James.”
His voice is breathy and emotional. The use of my name again gives me pause and I see the edge he’s walking.
If he were to tell me his story, he’d have to disappear into the memories, and with the line between past and present blurred, it’s a dangerous place to walk.
I understand that and so I nod curtly and his shoulders relax in relief.
Hours later, they come and get Caspian again.
He doesn't look at me as they drag him away, and once again I’m left with the helpless feeling I’m just letting this all happen.
It’s hours before they bring him back and when they do, he’s barely conscious.
He passes out before I can speak to him.
I slam my hand against the bars in anger, more than a little annoyed we’re still here.
I pace the bars thinking more about escape scenarios—
“James.” I turn to see him dragging himself towards the bars. The action exhausts him as he sags against the barrier dividing us. He’s pale, with sweat breaking out across his forehead. There’s pain etched into every line of his face—his eyes are glazed with it.
“I need to tell you the—”
“No,” I say vehemently.
Dread hits me so hard I choke out the word. I know what he’s trying to say.
He clutches the bars. “It can’t die with me.”
His words stab me. “You’re not going to die,” I fumed.
That at least brought a ghost of a smile to his face as he looks at me with a glimmer of the amusement I’m used to seeing.
“The coordinates—”
“Don’t—”
But his stubborn ass continues to speak. He tells me how he came upon the map. He tells me what it looked like—including where Grythmoor was located on it and finally, in a voice barely above a breath, he tells me the coordinates. Instead of feeling elated, my stomach twists in disgust.
“Now you know, Captain,” he tries to give me a smile. “Just in case, of course,” he adds when he sees my fury. “Don’t tell Malik or I’ll make sure I haunt you for the rest of your days.”
I know he’s trying for humor but it comes out flat.
On impulse, I slide my hand up the bars until it’s firmly over his.
I can’t say anything; my throat is thick with emotion and besides, what am I supposed to say to the man who was supposed to die by my hand—but who I very much don’t want to kill.
The man who drives me crazy but also sends a thrill through me every time those damn dimples appear.
He’s someone who has deep shadows and maybe— maybe one day, he’ll trust me enough to show me.
But I can’t say any of that because I barely understand it.
All I know is I don’t want my life to go back to how it was before Caspian De’Vero entered it.
Caspian puts his other hand over mine, meeting my gaze with one that further stalls my breathing and makes my blood race.
He rests his head against the bars and it isn’t long until he’s asleep.
Something tugs at my chest seeing him curled up against the iron with my hand sandwiched between his—providing an anchor in an otherwise stormy sea.
I jolt awake when I hear the door. Caspian’s hand is ice cold in mine and for a moment I panic, watching for any sign he’s still breathing.
I catch a glimpse of his chest rising before Firth arrives.
This time he stops in front of my cell. Firth is looking at me apprehensively, his body language entirely different from when he’s dealing with Caspian.
“Come on, Stormbreaker,” he says.
I carefully extract myself from Caspian’s hand and let Firth lead me up into the main halls of the fort.
I walk into a receiving room where Malik is standing by a roaring fire smoking a pipe.
He looks me over with curiosity. As soon as the guards retreat to the door, he nods to a cart that holds a selection of liquor bottles.
“Can I get you a drink, Blackwell?”
I don’t dignify that with an answer.
“The only reason you’re here is because you were with Caspian when I found him,” Malik states, sounding apologetic. “I know who your contacts are and I will be letting you go.”
“And Caspian?”
He takes his time emptying his pipe and putting it away before he walks over and stops in front of me. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s that malicious hunger again and I want to wipe that smile off his fucking face.
“Caspian will be staying here,” he says tightly.
“I don’t know what your association with him is—but he and I have a long history, and with him now knowing the location of Grythmoor—well, he’s here to stay.
Truthfully, he should have never left—” he shakes his head.
“I would think you’d be ready to be rid of him, Captain, him being a De’Vero and all. ”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ve heard the stories about you, Stormbreaker,” he smirks. “Slave turned notorious pirate with a kill list of De’Vero’s and powerful friends—untouchable some would say.” He looks me up and down like I’m something he very much dislikes. The feeling is mutual .
“How much do you want for his release?”
Malik chuckles. “Nothing. Because no price will be enough for me to give him up. Not after I finally have him here again.” He nods towards the door. “My guards will escort you to the gate. I suggest you forget all about Caspian De’Vero, Captain.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to bargain, using the lost city coordinates to entice him. But I hold my tongue—knowing it would only make things worse and Caspian would be furious with me. I’ll just have to get him out another way, because like hell am I leaving him here with this monster.