Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
James
“Why don’t you have a shadow, Peter? I know most of the fauns do.” We’re laying on the banks of Silvermist lake, my absolute favorite place in this entire realm. Or so I think, because all I have seen so far is the castle, Silvermist Town, and the nearby forest and the lake.
“Because I am a royal faun, my heart. Sometimes we are born without a shadow, I promise you; it is nothing to worry about,” he reassures me, kissing the top of my head.
My body relaxes as he pulls me closer into his body.
The gentle thump thump thump beneath sun warmed, soft skin and chest hair almost puts me to sleep, but Peter’s high-pitched gravelly voice rumbling above my head keeps me awake.
“This is nice, you know. Getting to know each other even better. You’re trusting me, not asking me about showing you the rest of Silvermist.”
“I know the rest of the realm is not safe for me, not yet. You have told me. And I know you know what is best for me. You know this realm better than I do,” I admit softly.
I always wanted to travel, but I never had a hard time accepting I could not go back home.
Then why would I bother with it now? It is better to focus on getting to know the parts of this realm I can call my home.
Peter is one of them, and the fact he does not have a shadow has always fascinated me.
Once more I wake up with a jolt that leaves my head throbbing.
Silk sheets are wrapped around my legs, to the point where I am almost tied to it.
Sadly, this is not the first time missing Peter.
Even with the necklace, it wasn’t easy being without him for so long.
It never led to me having these weird fever pitched dreams, though.
They wear me down even more, periods like this always make me feel exhausted.
Judging from the rumpled sheets, and how damp my sheets and pillow are, I realize I must have been moving around, twisting and turning in my bed.
The room is pitch black, even with the curtain drawn close.
It shouldn’t be this dark during the day.
That and the sudden absence of movement leaves me disorientated.
My hands fumble around, to check if I am still in the room I fell asleep in.
My heart swells up as I imagine being back in my bed at Silvermist Castle.
What if he found me and brought me back home?
Then my fingers finally find purpose, smooth polished wood, held together by rough cold iron, and my heart sinks to my stomach.
Peter did not come for me yet. I am not back home.
I have no idea why the ship is not moving anymore.
It seems important to me, so I make my way to the window to open the curtain.
The sky is pitch black, the new moon and the stars not giving enough light to show where we are.
All I see is some shapes nearby; maybe we are docked somewhere.
It is a long shot, but at this point, it is the only option I have.
Trying to escape the ship now that I am not on the open sea.
Peter was undoubtedly right about it being a risk for me to venture into the other parts of Silvermist.
Yesterday showed me I am not safe on the pirate ship either.
Shooting a little prayer, I sneak toward the door and gently open it.
My still-overused muscles are now coiled tight, like I am a wind up doll, wound up too far.
I struggle to swallow down my sigh as the door opens.
The usual creak sounding louder than ever in the all-encompassing silence that has descended onto the Obsidian Oath.
I hold my breath, knuckles whitening around the doorknob.
My chest deflates as the air I locked in my lungs finally escapes.
It is the only sound , piercing the quiet night, prompting me to move again.
The soft leather shoes I cursed on most days on this ship are my saving grace now.
Their touch whispers over the worn down wood, even as I make my way up the ladders to get above deck they make no sound.
The night air is colder than I expected it to be.
It stings my skin and makes my hands stiff, they become hard to move, and I still need to climb more to get off this ship.
I could go back for a blanket. The thought makes me halt for just a second.
Before I put it out of my mind. Large heavy fabric draped around my shoulders will only make it harder for me to move, especially up and down the ladders.
If anyone finds me here now, I can lie about needing a bit of fresh air after being so sick.
It would be weird if I went to the trouble of hauling a blanket just to get some fresh air.
Especially since I had no reason to know it would be this cold outside.
My bottom lip tingles slightly as the blood from biting down on it warms it. The warmth is a passing comfort, the cold winter wind instantly turning the blood cold.
It doesn’t matter, nothing does, nothing but the blurry outlines of ropes tied to the ship’s railing. I sneak to the railing, my feet finding purchase on the first step of the rope ladder leading down the hull.
Cold wraps all around me pulling me under, slamming all the air from my lungs.
My feet never found the second step of the ladder, and my cold, stiff hands could no longer carry my weight.
I had no time to comprehend what was happening, and now, I am finding the death I so desperately tried to avoid last night.
I am drowning in the icy sea. My grand escape ended up being the grandest escape of it all. Unwillingly escaping my li—
GASP
My lungs burn as they suddenly fill up with air again, the burn spreads through my throat as I keep coughing up salt water.
“You don’t have a self-preserving bone in your body, do you?
” Never did I expect a day when Killian Tregear’s voice would sound like salvation.
“Had I known you just wouldn’t swim, I would have stopped you before you fell into the little trap I set up for you,” he mocks me.
“Can’t huhhhh, swim… uggh uggh, asshole,” I cough and sputter. I told him this yesterday, so I am not sure why this is suddenly news to him. It is the whole reason I was petrified when he forced me on that plank yesterday. The same thing he apologized for what must have been only hours ago.
“Fucking hell, are you serious? This is the most landlubber stupidity I have ever encountered,” he grumbles, yanking me to my feet. I hope he doesn’t think he can get me to walk back to my room. I can barely hold myself up.
My head lulls back as the ground beneath my feet suddenly disappears.
“Stupid scallywagging landlubber, trying to escape off a ship when you can’t even swim,” Killian scolds me as if I should have known that one day I would get kidnapped, and held captive aboard a pirate ship.
He honestly does not know what he is talking about.
He rarely does, and normally, I would fight him on it, argue with him.
Especially since he is now carrying me back to my cell, swung over his shoulder like I am a bag of potatoes. But I’m too weak to counter.
“Nothing to say now, have you?” he starts again, taunting me. I don’t know what he expects me to do or say now or why he keeps pushing me.
“Kind of busy not throwing up all over your back,” I grumble.
“‘Preciate it,” he mutters and with that, he walks me back. I expected him to take me to my cell, my room.
“Stop moving like that,” he growls but my body has grown colder. My stomach is a tight ball, cramping further with every foot of unfamiliar hallways we’re passing. The door creaks open and he dumps me on the floor unceremoniously.
“You need a bath, I won’t have you die from pneumonia on top of your withdrawal. The kettles in the communal bathrooms are empty; they will be filled at the break of dawn like every day,”
His explanation prompts me to truly look around. The curtains in this room are a heavy black velvet, holding back all the light even at high noon. His bed is an actual bed, not a bunk like the one in my room. But it is his desk that draws my attention the most.
It is scattered with scrolls off parchment, maps, a thick leather-bound book that seems to be a notebook.
It is like a treasure chest full of the information I so desperately have been looking for ever since he kidnapped me—a way out.
A way for Peter to defeat the pirates once and for all.
But I never saw this room, granted I never moved down these halls upside down, but it almost seemed as if I had never seen those halls before.
“Thank you for letting me bathe in your private chambers,” I mumble, staring at the floor. I need to play my cards right one last game to make sure I will not only survive this, but that Peter can take care of this plague once and for all.
“You’re a lot more amenable if you are about to puke your guts out.
Good to know.” He smirks, but there is less bite to his words.
For once, I don’t bite back, let him think being sick and almost drowning finally broke me.
He already knows I will not leave the ship simply because I am unable to.
I let him guide me to the bathroom, walking like a baby deer taking its first step.
The shame for being so weak in front of him is replaced by hope, at being allowed in his chambers like this, at seeing a softer side of him. One I might be able to manipulate.
My wet clothes roll-up, clinging to my body as I am shedding the layers. My arms are so heavy that pulling the tunic now weighted with water, is too much. My arms tremble, ache, and tire.
“What is the hold up? It can’t be that hard to get undressed, not even for you.” His muted face comes from behind the heavy teak door. Who even needs a door in the bathroom only he uses?
I was glad about the privacy it provided me, but like all else on this ship, it was a mockery.
A mockery of privacy because before I can form a reply, the door slams open.
The white tunic caught halfway around my head slightly obscures my vision.
My skin scratches, and as the tunic is being pulled from my head, my knees catch on the edges of the copper tub.
I can barely grab hold of the wall to keep myself upright.
And nothing would be worse than to end up in the tub like a turtle on its back.
“Withdrawal hurts, doesn’t it? Yet you love the man who would hurt you like this with stars in your eyes.
” Once again, Killian tells me this is withdrawal, like Peter is an alcohol addiction and not the love of my life.
The one I’m fated to be with. It’s not surprising anymore.
What is surprising, is how his eyes rake over my torso again.
Could it be that I was right and Killian Tregear actually wanting me because Peter has me?
Could he actually genuinely be attracted to me?
After all, he did suddenly kiss me yesterday.
I did not pay attention to it, between being scared for my life and him being erratic, but now I wonder if it might have meant something.
“Guess so,” I mumble as I take the trousers off with him in the room with me. It is almost comical how his eyes widen.
For the first time since I met him, he seems unsure what to do with himself.
I made him angry enough to lose his cool plenty of times before.
The consequences usually do not benefit me, but it has always given me some sort of satisfaction to know I could make him lose control like that.
But this is different. He doesn’t react, only takes a step back, eyes darting everywhere but on me until they flash back to me like a magnet to metal.
“Can I use your soap? It smells nice, always thought so,” I say, keeping my voice low and even. I am reluctant to admit I noticed something pleasant about him. But if he is truly attracted to me, if he truly wants me, maybe I can win his trust?
“Take whatever you want. I will get you some clothes,” he answers gruffly.
He is clenching his fists, and the muscle in his jaw is ticking again.
He doesn’t mention it, doesn’t tell me how to act, or what to change.
Maybe he is annoyed with himself. That would fit with how much he was trying to avoid looking at me and failing.
The scent of pine and the sea fills the bathroom, the steam making my eyelids heavy.
My entire body goes soft and pliable when I finally sink into the warm water.
The communal bathrooms are great, but this one is even better.
Maybe I can bathe here more often. It would align with my plans to make Killian trust me.
“Drowning again?”
I hate how I startle awake for the fifth or sixth time today. It is one of the worst things about being ill from being without Peter.
“No, shit, sorry,” I stammer, and I swear his face softens a bit. His full black eyebrows always curved down in a scowl, or raised when he is mocking me, are relaxed now. The lack of frown wrinkles on his forehead show me how tanned his face actually is.
“By the way, thank you for saving me out there, you didn’t have to.
I know you don’t give a fuck whether I live or die,” I tell him, as he walks outside the bathroom again.
At my words, he falters, knuckles turning white around the door frame.
“I care. Everyone should care whether someone lives or dies. Now get dressed, I want to go to bed.”
With that, the conversation is over. For the first time since coming aboard the Obsidian Oath, I decide to give Killian a break. He did, after all, save my life.