Chapter 42
CHAPTER 42
WENDY
T he day following our meeting with the Nomad, I slice clean through a pig carcass for the first time.
I’d barely paid attention to Maddox’s instructions. He’d been chattering, asking me to resolve a friendly dispute between him and Charlie. Something about the Nomad’s age. Or perhaps Charlie had wagered the Nomad was an elderly female. I hadn’t really been listening.
I’d just picked my short sword off the rack and pivoted the hilt in my hand, its weight grounding somehow. Then I’d grasped it with my other hand and struck.
The catharsis of hacking the last pig to bits was nothing compared to that of slicing through the carcass in a single clean line. The whir of my sword cleaving through air. The resistance of the pig’s spine unprotected against the quiet rage that’s been aching for release since the moment my mind overlaid Astor’s Mating Mark onto what was supposed to be mine and Peter’s alone.
Maddox whistles behind me, staring at the dangling bits of flesh from the pig’s torso, the severed spine jutting from its center. The bottom half of the pig now rolls across the rocky deck as we traverse the waves.
“Remind me not to mess with you,” Maddox says, arms crossed, glancing at the short sword we’ve been practicing with ever since I graduated from the dagger.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” I say, staring down at the severed carcass with mingled disdain and disappointment.
He quirks a brow at me, his tanned forehead crinkling. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to do that? That was a perfect hit. You couldn’t have been more perfect.”
“Yeah, but now it’s over. That was the last one,” I say, examining the bottom half of the carcass with a quiet numbness that snuck into the space my rage once inhabited, too quick for me to ward myself against. “Maybe we can hang that half up?” I ask, looking at Maddox hopefully.
His eyes go wide, and he swallows. Instead of reaching for the carcass, he reaches for my blade. My fingers grip protectively over the hilt, but he pries it from my hand. “Why don’t we take a break?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, shrugging off my gear. As I wipe down my blade, I sense footsteps on the deck. I glance over my shoulder to find Astor staring at the remainder of the carcass.
“Nice,” he says, nudging me in the shoulder with a playful uptick of his lips. “Though I think you made poor Maddox over there wet his pants.”
“It’s just a pig. It’s not like he hasn’t done that to humans. To fae,” I say, expression flat.
The captain actually bristles. “No. But he never enjoyed it. Never wanted more once he was done. What were you planning to do, Darling? Hack the body to pieces like you used to before you learned to handle a blade?”
When I don’t answer, he grabs my shoulder, though gently. “If you’re upset, take it out on me.”
When I spin back around, I flash him my most dazzling smile. “What would I have to be upset about? Just a little longer, and I never have to see your face again.”
He cocks his head to the side. His lips are still curled in amusement, but I don’t miss the anger simmering in his eyes. “Come now, Darling. Looking at me can’t be so much of a burden.”
I shrug. “I wouldn’t know. When I look at you, it’s not really you I see. Just my parents’ blood.”
My jab must land, because his hand falters, falling off my shoulder, leaving behind an emptiness I should be used to by now.
I return to cleaning my sword, refusing to count the captain’s steps as he walks away.
“I take it you’re not thrilled about being Cap’s Mate,” says Maddox as I transition to helping him clean the remainder of the pig carcass.
I freeze, hands still on the clammy surface of the cadaver. “He told you?”
Maddox leans against the nearby mast, his arms crossed. “Didn’t have to. The tension between the two of you is thicker than this thing,” he says, tapping the carcass with his boot.
I glance away, hardly able to look Maddox in the eye. “So you knew the Mark was for me, not for Iaso.” When Maddox doesn’t answer, I snap at him, “I guarantee you that nothing you say is going to make me feel more na?ve than I already do.”
The humor in Maddox’s expression falters, just slightly. “The crew encouraged him to tell you earlier.”
The crew. So everyone knew. Everyone but me. “Excellent.”
Maddox sighs, then squats across from me, propping his elbows on his outspread knees. “The thing you have to understand about Nolan is he hates nothing more than being controlled.”
My mind goes back to my conversation with Astor back when I was recovering from my faerie dust withdrawals. The thing you have to understand about Peter is…
What exactly had I said about Peter?
“Yes,” I say. “How horrible it must be for someone to have their Fate determined for them without their consent. Sounds dreadful. I can’t imagine.”
Maddox rests his cheek on his fist, his calloused knuckles pressed into his skin, making even his chiseled jawline appear boyish. “I think the two of you might understand one another better than you think you do.”
Frustration simmers within me, but Maddox bats his pretty eyelashes at me, his big gray eyes making him difficult to be angry at, reminding me he’s not the one who’s hurt me.
I sigh, wiping the sweat from my brow with my sleeve, even as I sneak the fabric across my eyes to hide the fact I’m wiping away tears. “I understand why he did what he did. Believe me, I know. But the moment he took hold of his freedom by severing his Mating Mark, he stole something from me. He bought his freedom at the cost of mine. When he transferred the Mark to Peter, he was controlling me. Can’t you see that? Astor might have hated the Sister for choosing his Mate for him, but then he went and did the same thing to me. Except he didn’t even have the decency to do it correctly, and now I’m…I’m…”
“Torn,” says Maddox, nodding pensively.
Shame washes over me, but relief too, that Maddox understands.
“Peter always had more influence over me than I wanted him to. I thought it was his fae glamour at first, but I later came to realize that our Mating Marks made me malleable in his hands.” And he in mine, I don’t say, remembering how I tricked him the night I thought he was the one killing the Lost Boys. “That was Astor’s doing. And now I don’t know what’s real and what’s a poorly done piece of magic gone awry.”
Maddox examines me. “Did you feel the same way about the Mating Mark when you thought you were only matched to Peter’s?”
I pause, my words getting hung in my throat. When I don’t answer, Maddox continues. “At the risk of sounding like I’m not on your side, Wendy, it sounds to me like you were perfectly fine with your Fate being out of your hands up until recently.”
The offense rattles me, but I can’t find any evidence to argue otherwise. Once I’d realized Peter wasn’t murdering the Lost Boys, I’d been relieved to know we were Mates. I’d been content to rest in the confidence that we were meant to be together, enough that I hadn’t abided any doubts that had crossed my mind. Every time Peter had acted in a way that wasn’t befitting or honorable, I’d rested on the confidence that he was my Mate. I just hadn’t realized that particular foothold was less of a rock and more of a root.
After several seconds go by without a response, Maddox pokes me. “What’s really bothering you?”
Tears sting at my eyes, my ribs cracking. When I look up at Maddox, his gray eyes are so soft, so kind, I can’t help but confide in him. “He doesn’t want me.”
Maddox’s jaw tenses, his eyes gleaming over with moisture. “Have you considered he might be under the impression that you’re the one who doesn’t want him?”
The laugh I let out is wry. “Of the two of us, which one of us do you think can make sure they get what they want? If Astor wanted me, he’d have me.”
The words are out before I’ve realized I let them escape my lips. My stomach churns over, but there’s no taking them back.
Maddox stands, then stretches, but as he turns away, he looks over his shoulder and says, “For the record, I do believe that you’re the type of person who can get what she wants.”
“Do you think people can learn to be brave?”
Charlie shifts in her bed. I waited to ask the question until I was fairly sure she’d gone to sleep. I guess I was hoping that I would be able to pat myself on the back and convince myself that I’d done everything I could do. That at least I’d tried.
I must have misjudged Charlie’s breathing patterns, because she shoots up in bed, suspicion written all across her brow. “Of whom are we speaking?” she asks conspiratorially.
I groan, propping myself up in bed as well to look at her, though my inclination is to hide myself under the covers. “A hypothetical character I plan to write into a play when all this is over.”
Charlie glares at me, then grabs a pillow and hugs it against her chest. “Obviously.”
I sigh, giving up the farce. “I’m not brave naturally. And even if I was, I have such difficulty finding the right words in the moment, speaking my mind. They always come out wrong, and—”
“Tell me the story of how you escaped Astor the first time.”
I frown, confused. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
Charlie just stares at me, unblinking.
I press my lips together, then scramble for the words. “After…well, after my parents died, John pressed his pocket watch into my hand. He’d loaded it with faerie dust and set it to explode at midnight. I guess he hoped it would give me time to escape the Shadow Keeper. But after Astor attacked, John adjusted the time, so it exploded early. Siv had already taken Michael, so John and I had to find him. Once we got him…”
“Stop,” she says. “How did you get Michael away from Siv?”
I blink. “John snuck up behind him and knocked him over the head with a brick. Or maybe it was a horseshoe. I can’t really remember.”
“And you were just standing around doing nothing?” Charlie asks.
I frown. “No, I was talking to Siv. Trying to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t notice John approaching.”
Charlie, appeased, gestures for me to continue.
“We ended up hiding in the clock tower, but Astor’s men were closing in, so we climbed the ladder to the top.”
“Why’d you choose the clock tower?” she asks.
“Because we needed somewhere to hide. I already told you…” When I trail off, Charlie cocks her head to the side, and I sigh. “I chose the clock tower because I figured hiding at the top would give me enough time to strike a deal with the Shadow Keeper.”
“Now why would you purposefully run into the arms of the very being who had been haunting you for over half your life?” Charlie asks.
I bite my lip. “I needed to convince him to save my brothers. But I was going to have to go with him anyway. It wasn’t as if I had any chance of escaping him.”
“In my experience, there are plenty of people who’d never think of running toward their own tragic Fate, no matter how inescapable it was,” says Charlie.
I hug my knees to my chest, anxiety quelling. Charlie’s expression changes, pity and concern overwhelming her features. “You don’t have to be fearless to be brave, you know. You don’t even have to look brave or sound brave. Your voice can tremble and your hands can shake. But those things can’t take your courage away from you. I’m sorry you were ever made to feel otherwise.”
Discomfort swirls in my stomach. “I just don’t know that I could even get the words out. And even if I could…what if he hates me for it?”
Charlie grimaces. “If I had to bet, if the captain hates anyone for what’s going on between the two of you, it’s himself.”
I let out a wry laugh and bury my face in my hands. “I think you’ve managed to make me feel worse. Iaso deserves better than this.”
Charlie sighs. “Iaso is gone. Has been for a long time. But you’ve got to decide what you’re more afraid of: the captain rejecting you, or living the rest of your life wondering what might have been different had you been brave enough to start the conversation.”
I peer at her through my hands. “You’re not saying what I want to hear, you know.”
Charlie winks at me. “That’s because I’m your friend.”