Chapter 24
It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon at port when Omen arrived at Chestwil, and though Carolina was technically no freer than she’d been for the last decade, her heart and spirit were as bright as the day. And it had everything to do with the carefree smile on Ophelia’s face as Carolina met her at the ramp.
“Got your letter?” she asked.
Ophelia pulled a folded piece of parchment out of her pocket and held it up. “You?”
Carolina nodded, patting her own pocket where she’d tucked her notes to Kala and John as Berkeley stepped up behind them. He put an arm around each of their shoulders and leaned between them.
“Which one of you is buying me a drink?” he asked.
“Well,” Ophelia answered, “one of us doesn’t have two dominions to rub together and the other is a pirate captain.”
“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Carolina laughed.
Berkeley looked over at Rue, who’d just stepped up to Ophelia’s other side. “You hear that, Rue? Carolina’s buying us drinks.”
“Is that right?” Rue asked, to which Berkeley nodded and Carolina shrugged. “Well, let’s go then, I’m parched.”
“To the post first,” Carolina said.
“To the post!” Berkeley announced, shoving his way between her and Ophelia and leading the charge down the ramp.
They followed other crew members off the ship and into town, where they navigated the main streets until they reached the post office. Inside, Carolina paid the postmaster to expressly send out her letters to Kala and John, and Ophelia’s letter to Lia and Izaak .
As they left the post to head to a tavern, Rue asked, “What do you think we’re going to find at the archives that we didn’t the first time?”
“I don’t know,” Carolina told her honestly. “But maybe John will have had time to familiarize himself with some of them, and we’ll have more time to look ourselves if Ophelia can extend my time off the ship.” Ophelia nodded, and Carolina threw her arm over Rue’s shoulders and added, “But forget about that. You said you were tired of this being all I cared about, so we’re not going to talk about it anymore today.”
Rue’s face was full of skepticism as she asked, “Seriously?”
“I mean it,” she said. “Now come on, how many drinks till you stop being upset with me?” Rue blew an exasperated breath through pursed lips, but Carolina gave her a playful shake as she poked her in the cheek and said, “Well?” Rue tried to pull her face away in annoyance, but she couldn’t conceal the tiny smile forcing its way to the corner of her lips. “Out with it.” Poke. “Come on.” Poke. “How many?”
“ God, three ,” Rue laughed, shoving Carolina off her. “More if you keep pestering me.”
“Pestering you?” Carolina asked, slinking back to Rue’s side and poking her in the ribs. “Like that?”
Rue pointed a scolding finger at her. “Stop it.” Carolina grinned, hovering her hand in the air in threat of poking her again. “I’m the youngest, I’m supposed to be annoying you.” Carolina made a jab, but Rue swatted her hand away. “I’ll kick your ass right here in the street.”
“Like you could,” she teased.
When she made another thrust at Rue’s ribs, Rue cackled, “That’s it!” and grabbed her by the arm.
Rue swung herself around and threw herself onto Carolina’s back, wrapping her arms around her neck to choke her out. Carolina buckled over and worked her head out of Rue’s grasp, grabbing Rue by the torso with one arm to keep tickling her ribs with the other. But Rue did it right back, repeatedly jabbing Carolina in the side until they were both laughing too hard to keep doing it, and they shoved away from each other with Rue shouting, “Truce!”
Rue held out her hand to shake on it, saying again, “Truce?”
Carolina made one last feigned reach for Rue’s side, which made her flinch, and then laughed and slapped her hand into Rue’s so they could shake on it. “Truce,” she agreed.
They reached a tavern a few minutes later, and while Berkeley and Rue went to sit at a table, Carolina went to the bar with Ophelia. She ordered four drinks, and then they stood there while the barkeep went to pour them, not knowing what to say while they waited. Every time she glanced over at Ophelia, it seemed to be the exact moment Ophelia glanced at her, and they both smiled at each other and then quickly looked away.
Neither of them knew what to say after the emotionally charged conversations they’d had a couple days ago, that much was obvious, and they hadn’t spoken much since. Not alone, anyway, and Carolina didn’t know what to say next. Didn’t know where to go from there. Because she’d admitted to still being in love with Ophelia, and it hadn’t been acknowledged since. And it wasn’t that she desperately needed to know if Ophelia felt the same way, or if she even accepted it. Rather, she didn’t want Ophelia to give a response before she was ready, if she ever would be, but it would’ve helped at least to know that Ophelia had heard . She just didn’t know if she should ask, or if she should just keep waiting to see if Ophelia ever wanted to talk about it.
So, they stood there for almost a minute while the barkeep poured their drinks and got distracted by another patron, glancing at each other every other moment without saying anything, until Ophelia buckled first and chuckled, “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”
Carolina lifted her eyebrows and teased, “ You keep looking at me .”
Ophelia laughed, but shrugged and said, “You seem happier today, that’s all. Less grumpy about being off the ship.”
She nodded, unsure of how to explain why it was different, or if she even should. Rue had said once that she should be grateful for the things she had, even if she didn’t have her freedom, but there had always been something missing. Always a feeling of emptiness no matter how grateful she was for Rue, and Berkeley, and her ship and crew. But ever since she and Ophelia had made amends, she’d been finding it easier to be grateful. She’d thought the missing piece was her freedom, but she was finding that it was Ophelia who filled the hole.
“I think I’m just… as tired of being miserable as you are of being alone,” she explained. She smiled and added, “Better to enjoy the couple hours I have off the ship than doom myself to a lifetime of solitude in my cabin, right?”
“Couple hours?” Ophelia asked. “What about the extra time I can give you?”
“That’s not something I should expect of you every time we leave the ship,” she said. “Nor something I want to expect. ”
“But,” Ophelia began, pausing as she reached out to set her hand on Carolina’s forearm, “we’re both afflicted by the curse, Carolina. It’s not right that your burden is so disproportional to mine.”
Carolina set her hand on top of Ophelia’s, savoring the warmth of that touch for as long as Ophelia would leave it. “What did I tell Rue, hm? No curse talk today.”
Ophelia glanced down at their hands and gave a soft, brief smile, and looked like she was about to say something when the barkeep returned with their drinks.
“Here you are,” he said.
And Ophelia finally slipped her hand out from under Carolina’s to grab a drink in each. “Let’s make these couple hours count then,” she said with a smile.
Carolina grinned and grabbed the other two tankards, and they carried all four drinks to the table where Berkeley and Rue were sitting.
“Yes!” Berkeley cheered as he took a mug from her and held it up. “Our reward for facing off against a dragon and surviving to tell the tale!”
“Cheers to that,” Rue said, lifting her mug to tap it against Berkeley’s.
“Not just a dragon,” Ophelia said. “A whole colony of veltis too.”
“Listen here though,” Berkeley said, and let them all wait while he took several gulps of his drink. Then he pointed at Carolina and Ophelia. “You two had better stop doing all the other fun stuff without me.”
“What have we done without you?” Carolina asked.
“Started a rebellion?” he asked. “And you killed the nightwing.”
“Technically we didn’t kill the nightwing,” she told him.
“Ah,” he waved her off, lifting the ale to his lips for another large gulp. When he was done with that drink, he made a show of looking around into each of their tankards. “Alright, go on, catch up. The last person to finish buys the next round.” They all did as he said, drinking half the contents before showing him that they were ready. “Go!” he announced.
And they chugged, downing gulp after gulp to get to the bottom of their cup first. It was clear Berkeley was winning, so Carolina reached out to slap him in the belly, and he snorted into his cup and shoved her in the face. Rue was the first to slam down her cup, then Carolina, and then Berkeley. They all looked at Ophelia, who made eye contact with each of them from behind the rim of her tankard before giggling into it and spilling some down her chin. That only made her laugh harder, and she lowered her drink in resignation .
“Well now how am I supposed to keep up with pirates?” she asked amusedly, wiping the back of her hand across her lips.
Berkeley stood just enough to lean across the table and peer down into her tankard. “It was a good effort. We’ll make sure you get plenty of practice.”
Ophelia laughed and patted her empty pockets. “I don’t see how. I can’t buy the next round.”
“I’ll get it,” Carolina said as she stood, and before she walked away, she pointed teasingly at Ophelia’s cup. “That better be finished by the time I get back.”
Ophelia gave an exaggerated salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
And as she returned to the bar, Berkeley and Rue pounded the table and cheered for Ophelia as she tried to finish the ale. She gestured to the barkeep for four more and turned to watch while she waited, smiling fondly to herself as Ophelia finished the drink and threw her arms in the air. Her eyes found Carolina and she pointed excitedly to her mug, and Carolina couldn’t help but laugh and grin back at her in congratulations.
When the barkeep finished pouring four new drinks, Carolina grabbed two handles in each hand and returned to the table with them. As she sat down and set one in front of everybody, she nodded toward the musicians and people dancing in the back of the large room.
“As soon as we finish these, we’re dancing,” she said, “all four of us.”
“Dancing?” Rue asked into her cup. “You don’t dance.”
“I do too,” Carolina said, looking at Berkeley to back her up.
He grimaced. “How long does it have to be since you’ve done something to say you don’t do that thing?”
“Oh, come on,” she protested, looking at Ophelia. “And what about you?”
“It’s been a long time,” Ophelia answered. “Long, long time.”
“Alright,” she said, standing and grabbing her drink with determination. “I’ve got one hour to fit in a night of fun. Drink up!”
“Cheers!” Berkeley hollered without protest, slamming the bottom of his tankard on the table as he stood and then lifting it to his lips to begin chugging.
Carolina followed suit, throwing back the entirety of her drink. Rue shrugged and also stood to start on her second mug, and then Ophelia finally giggled and did the same. Berkeley finished first, and then she did, and they watched Rue and Ophelia finish their drinks one after the other. The moment Ophelia finally put her empty tankard back on the table, Carolina grabbed one of her and Rue’s wrists.
“Let’s go!” she said, and dragged them to the back to join the dancers with Berkeley following happily behind.
They got into the rhythm instantly, clapping and stomping their feet to the beat, and it only took fifteen minutes on the boot-worn dance floor for the two large ales to kick in, and then they really started to have a good time. They hooked arms and swung each other around merrily. They spun while stomping and tapping the heels and toes of their boots. They switched partners with each other constantly to laugh at the way each of them stumbled through the steps, and Carolina couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
She was having so much fun that she almost didn’t mind when she passed Ophelia to Berkeley to hook arms with Rue instead, and Ophelia was intercepted by another drunken man who took her arm before Berkeley could. Berkeley wasn’t fazed, and he joyfully took the arm of the next free man beside him, and Carolina was going to let it go. But then it was time to switch again, and when she went to recover Ophelia’s arm, the man wouldn’t swap.
And it wasn’t that the offense was unforgiveable. Ophelia laughed it off good-naturedly, and Berkeley rolled his eyes as Carolina swapped to his arm instead. And Carolina knew, she knew that Ophelia would force the man off her arm when she was tired of him, and there was no need for her intervention because Ophelia had never been afraid to put her foot down. But it had been so, so long since she’d been in a good old-fashioned brawl, and she couldn’t deny that a fight, just like the ones in the books she’d entertained herself with for years, sounded like more fun than she could dream of.
So, when they swapped again and the man denied her Ophelia’s arm a second time, she couldn’t resist. She made eye contact with Berkeley just long enough to grin mischievously at him, and then shoved herself between the man and Ophelia to break their arms apart and push him back.
“Hey!” he hollered over the music. “What’s the big idea?”
“Piss off,” she told him.
“What’d you say?” he asked, stepping back up to her.
“She said to piss off,” Rue told him, posting herself at Carolina’s side and shoving him again. “Or are you dull? ”
The man waved them off, laughing as he turned away, “I’d break you like a twig.”
Rue glanced over at Carolina and asked, “Is this for shits?”
Carolina nodded, and Rue didn’t hesitate a moment more before letting out a yell and dashing forward to throw herself onto the man’s back. It was far too easy for him to grab Rue’s arm and fling her over his shoulder, so that she hit the floor on her back with a thud. Carolina had already begun winding up, so that when the man turned to her, her fist was ready to fly. She sent it straight into his cheek, and that hit was all it took to signal the continuing brawl to everyone around them.
The music stopped as onlookers formed a circle around them and the man’s friends joined in, one of them grabbing Rue by the collar to haul her off the ground while the other began to grapple with Berkeley. The man Carolina had struck recovered from the blow and charged at her, grabbing her around the waist and taking her feet off the ground as he ran her to the nearest table, slamming her down hard on the surface. She narrowly dodged his fist as it smashed into the wood beside her face, and she brought one of her knees up to set her heel against his hip and push, kicking him back so she could hop off the table and regain her feet. Only, the table wasn’t secured to the floor, and it pushed the table backward and off balance instead so that it toppled over, and she crashed to the ground. She was back on her feet in less than a second, and then she charged at him , leading with her fist to punch him again. He dodged it as he made a swing of his own, his knuckles hitting her square on the mouth.
As she reeled from the blow, Ophelia yelled, “Carolina! Duck!”
She dropped to one knee as a chair went sailing over her head, and she maneuvered herself around the fourth assailant’s back. While he was still off balance from the force behind his swing, she managed to punch him twice in the back of the head before the first man tackled her to the ground. They went rolling, and somewhere in the tumble his knuckles landed against her eyebrow, but when they came to a stop, she was on top. She brought her fist down hard on the side of his jaw, and raised it again for another quick jab right as the sound of a gun went off.
The room fell silent as a man yelled, “ That’s enough!”
The man under Carolina shoved her off him, and they both scrambled to their feet to face the tavern owner, who was still holding his pistol aimed at the ceiling.
“Out!” the owner scream. “All of you! Get out! ”
There was nothing to do but what the owner said, and all eight of them were ushered out onto the street at gunpoint. Once outside, the owner said, “Sober up, Trace!” and slammed the door shut behind them.
Carolina snorted as Berkeley and Rue buckled over laughing, much to the confusion of Ophelia and the other four men.
“You’re Carolina Trace?” the man she’d started the fight with asked.
“That I am,” she said, and pulled several coins from her pocket and put them into his hand. “Thanks for the brawl, boys,” she told them. “Have a round on me.”
“Crazy assholes,” the man laughed, giving her a friendly jab to the shoulder. “Thanks for the drink.”
He and his friends laughed as they disappeared up the street, and Berkeley finally composed himself to breathe, “That was fun.”
“Fun?” Ophelia asked. “ Fun? ”
“Sure was,” he answered.
“You’re all bleeding ,” Ophelia complained, and she was right. All of them except Ophelia were sporting fresh cuts and bruises. “And I can’t just heal you in the middle of the street.”
“Eh,” Berkeley said, waving it off. “I want another drink. Anyone?”
Rue grimaced as she fingered the bruise on her cheek, and then nodded. “I’ll take another.”
Carolina shook her head. “I should get back to the ship. Go and have another dance for me.”
“Will do,” Berkeley agreed, and he and Rue gestured goodbye and then headed off to find another tavern.
“You’re welcome to join them,” she told Ophelia.
“I’ve had quite enough alcohol for one day, I think,” Ophelia said, and as if on cue, she hiccupped.
“Come on,” Carolina chuckled.
She turned to start leading the way back, trying not to wince as she tongued the open cut on her lip. Neither of them said anything for a minute as they walked along, but Ophelia’s lingering confusion was palpable, and eventually she said, “Carolina?”
Carolina hummed.
“What the hell was that ?”
Carolina laughed, “What? You’ve never started a tavern brawl for the fun of it?”
“Wh- I- No ,” Ophelia stammered. “That’s not normal . ”
“Come on,” Carolina teased, “you’re telling me you weren’t even the slightest bit tempted to throw a punch?”
“Well…” Ophelia drawled.
“See?” Carolina laughed.
“Fine. But wanting to let off steam isn’t the same as actually getting beat up in a tavern brawl.”
“Excuse me,” she protested with mock offense, “we gave as good as we got, didn’t we?” And she scoffed, “Beat up.”
Ophelia giggled at that and admitted, “I guess you did.” She paused for a moment as she glanced over, and then asked, “Is there some sort of etiquette to tavern brawls? None of you drew a weapon.”
Carolina nodded side to side. “Depends on how much you hate the person, I suppose. This is a pirate island, so anything goes, really. But if it’s something simple like that, then it’s all fists.”
“And chairs,” Ophelia pointed out.
“Yeah,” she agreed with a huff of laughter, “and chairs. I’m glad he missed me with that one.”
“You’re welcome,” Ophelia said with a smirk.
She chuckled. “Thanks.”
“Alright,” Ophelia said as they finally reached Omen’s ramp. “To the infirmary, I’ll heal you up.”
Carolina nodded, following Ophelia up the ramp and to the infirmary. Inside, she gestured at the table and asked, “Want me to sit?”
Ophelia shrugged, but said, “Sure.”
Carolina turned around and hopped backward to sit at the edge of the table while Ophelia grabbed a clean rag and some antiseptic from a cabinet. Once she’d grabbed those items, she wandered over and set them on the table beside Carolina, and opened the bottle of antiseptic to pour some onto the rag. Then she stepped up to stand between Carolina’s knees, but as she reached up to dab the rag against Carolina’s lip, she hiccupped again.
Carolina let out an exaggerated gasp. “You’re drunk.”
“I am not,” Ophelia objected, but she hiccupped again just after she said it and then snorted with laughter.
“You are !” she exclaimed.
“No,” Ophelia said, sounding much less certain. “I’m just… pleasantly tipsy.”
Carolina leaned in and emphasized playfully, “Drunk.”
“Quiet, you,” Ophelia laughed, pushing her in the shoulder .
“Should you be healing while intoxicated?” she teased.
Ophelia blew a short burst of air through her lips and said, “Please, I could do this in my sleep.” And she grabbed Carolina’s jaw with a playful firmness. “Now hold still, or I could disfigure your lip permanently.”
Carolina’s eyes widened as she pulled her chin out of Ophelia’s hand. “Is that possible?”
Ophelia deadpanned at her, and when she still wasn’t convinced, laughed, “No, of course not.”
Carolina rolled her eyes, much to Ophelia’s amusement, and said dryly, “You’re hilarious.”
“I know,” Ophelia said, giving her a toothy grin.
Carolina couldn’t help but smile, but she didn’t interrupt while Ophelia reached up to press the antiseptic-soaked rag to her lip. The liquid stung more than the wound did on its own, and she almost protested the necessity of it, but every other sensation in that moment dulled the bite until she couldn’t feel it at all.
Because it had been almost a decade since Ophelia’s hands had so tenderly touched her face. Since she’d felt the warmth of Ophelia’s palm against her chin or the softness of her fingers on her jaw. It had been almost a decade since they’d been so close that she could feel Ophelia’s breath against her face. Almost a decade since the inside of her knees had known the heat of Ophelia’s hips.
And despite the silence that had grown around them, she tried not to let her thoughts show. She’d said her piece. She’d made her feelings known, and Ophelia had to have heard, and the last thing she wanted to do was pressure Ophelia for a response. But she couldn’t help the way her breathing shallowed and quickened. Or the way her hands itched to reach out for Ophelia. Or the way her eyes stared longingly at Ophelia’s face.
Maybe Ophelia could sense it, or maybe she felt the same way, because her eyes canted upward and caught Carolina’s, and she froze. They both did. They stayed there with their eyes locked for so many long, heavy moments that Carolina wondered if she should say something. Anything. But she didn’t know what. All she knew was that she couldn’t act on what she wanted. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Just as she inhaled to break the silence, Ophelia said, “Close your eyes,” and folded the bloody rag to a clean side.
She did as she was told and shut her eyes as Ophelia reached up to clean the blood and wound on her eyebrow. But it was only on one side, and the air around them was still so thick and quiet that she couldn’t resist the wonder, and after only a few seconds she opened the eye Ophelia wasn’t working on.
Ophelia noticed, and their gazes met again as her hand stilled on Carolina’s eyebrow. This time, they only stared at each other for a couple seconds before Ophelia’s eyes dropped to her lips, and then immediately darted back up and away. And it was clear, then. Ophelia had heard, and no matter how she may have felt, she wasn’t ready to bring resolution to it.
So Carolina whispered, “It’s alright,” and reached up to guide the rag in Ophelia’s hand back onto the wound.
But Ophelia dropped her hand instead and sighed. “Do you expect nothing? Not even a word about it?”
Carolina gave a soft smile, resisting every urge she had to reach out for some point of contact. Any point of contact beyond the heat against her knees. “I expect for you to process your feelings toward me without the pressure of expectation. However long that takes, and to whatever end.”
“And until then?” Ophelia asked.
She shrugged. “Till then, I’m trying my best to keep my longings to myself.”
“Failing,” Ophelia murmured.
Carolina smiled as her cheeks flushed lightly, and she said, “But trying, nonetheless.”
Ophelia smiled too, finally meeting her eyes again to hold that warm look for several moments before tapping a playfully scolding finger against her chest. “No more fights on my behalf.”
“Fine,” Carolina laughed, throwing up her hands in surrender. “Your behalf was more of an excuse, anyway.”
“You lot are a different breed,” Ophelia said, shaking her head amusedly.
Carolina grinned at her, which only caused the wound in her lip to split painfully again. “Ow,” she complained.
“Right,” Ophelia said, reaching up to cup her jaw, “let me take care of that.”
And though Carolina’s heart fluttered at the touch, and she knew she did a poor job of keeping that reaction off her face, at least she could be certain that they were on the same page then, and she’d wait as long as she had to for Ophelia to be ready to talk about it.