Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
Killian
The iron groans as I lock the door to James’ hut once again.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted to have a little fun with him.
We all knew that if he woke up while we were docked, he would try to escape.
With him being sick with withdrawal and it being dark outside, I figured the cut-off rope ladder would be fun; he was supposed to fall in, climb back on board like a wet cat, and then I would escort him back to his room, soaking wet.
I shiver as I think back on the splash of a body falling in the water two hours ago. And the deafening silence that followed, as I sat there like a fool, waiting for the sound of someone breaking through the surface level of the sea.
Everything spiraled from there; I’d seen before how strong he is.
Not the loud, overpowering strength that comes from being raised with swords and politics.
Or from spending the last 10 years on a pirate ship.
He has the quiet strength of someone who has seen too much.
Who knows what suffering is but refuses to let it break him.
Until today, it was just something I noticed, the only thing about him that was not totally insufferable.
But when his legs gave out from under him after he told me he couldn’t swim, I felt the need to let him bathe in my chambers with a lame excuse.
When in reality I felt horrible for making him walk the plank yesterday; making him fear for his life because he can’t swim is crippling.
He must have told me yesterday, but I was too locked in my anger to hear him.
So now I couldn’t tell him the truth; he would only mock me for it.
His strength does not make him a good person.
Like how the fact that he has one of the most attractive bodies that I have ever laid my eyes on doesn’t mean anything either.
He is back in his hut, I will go back to my quarters and drink enough rum to fall asleep without as much as a thought in my mind.
I won’t see him tomorrow, I am sure he will be suffering too much from his withdrawal symptoms to get out of his hut.
So all I need to do is stay clear for a day figuring out what to do, since Peter is ignoring my letters.
My crew can handle bringing him food and helping him to the bathroom should he need it.
Belichime seems to like him. She is young and a little naive; she tends to see the best in people, even when they are not worth it.
Having a shared hobby with James made her instantly like him.
Not to mention James likes Herb; the cats on the ships do not have an owner in that sense.
But everyone knows Belichime sees Herb as her cat.
She won’t mind taking care of James a little.
We will just stay docked here a little longer.
So that everyone in the crew is able to go outside and get supplies in the coming two days.
Maybe James would like some supplies too, so he is not walking around in borrowed clothes.
The voice in the back of my mind tells me. The voice I am going to drown out with enough rum to knock out Kinga himself tonight. I cannot wait until this is all sorted, and I no longer have to deal with all of this shit.
My head is killing me the next morning, and I feel like I slept on the beach, not in my quarters.
My eyes sting like salt and sand are sprinkled into them, and my entire body is stiff and aches with every movement.
The joys of only being able to have a rum-induced sleep.
Stiffly, I make my way to my bathroom; my curtains may black out the orange, coppery rays of the sun, but I know it’s barely dawn.
No captain would be able to sail and navigate his ship, without feeling the tides and knowing their times in their bones.
Soaking in hot water will help me with this hangover.
“Can I use your soap? It smells nice, and I’ve always thought so.”
Suddenly James’s voice rings through my mind. Fuck, why am I thinking about this now? He likes the scent of my soap. How absolutely pathetic I am. To feel so happy about that, to think about the way he looked when he told me.
I just need a bath and a strong coffee, the only good thing Peter brought to Silvermist. That human plant, and the way humans drink it, feels something special.
Does James even know we have coffee aboard this ship?
Maybe a little reminder of home. His actual home, not the home Peter made him believe in, will help with the withdrawal symptoms. Belichime is not only very skilled at making coffee, but she also enjoys making it for crew members.
I bet she would enjoy making some for James.
Yes, that is what I need to do: bathe and get some fresh air while enjoying a mug of coffee.
And then, tell Belichime she is on James duty during the day, suggesting she makes him a coffee.
It’s best he doesn’t know I offered him yet another kindness.
Not when it seemed like he was aware of how I could not keep my eyes off him when he was just undressing in front of me yesterday.
Satisfied with my plan of action, I finally lower myself in the blistering hot water.
My aching body contracts at first, shocked by the sudden sensation of warmth.
My skin stings, and sitting down is almost unbearable.
Soon, my body will get used to the heat, and the water will cool down slightly.
This is what is best for my hangover. I should know as this is not my first hangover, nor will it be my last.
Two hours later, I am sitting in the crow’s nest. It is quiet up here.
As it should be since we are being docked in friendly territory.
Unless Peter comes to find us. And it is exactly why I am enjoying my coffee all the way up here.
Where nothing or no one will come to distract me.
I have enough to worry about without adding other people into the mix.
Until she appears again. Celeste. I still refuse to call her Tinkerbell, the name that vile faun gave her.
I can no longer communicate with her, not really.
I don’t speak brownie. A perfectly evil part of the brownie design.
Every race apart from brownies and Peter only hear a sound like angry buzzing insects like wasps when a brownie tries to speak.
I used to spend hours talking to Celeste, or more listening to all her dreams, and aspirations.
Until she fell for the “fated mate” lie.
Her tiny hand on my forehead feels like a drop of cold water. I feel my lips curl up from the tenderness in the touch, the melancholy coming from a gesture so similar to when we were both young.
“I am not sick, Celeste. No, really. I have a bit of a hangover.” My nose scrunches up the second the words leave my lips.
I rub my nose without any effect, the brownie dust already settling in my nose.
My eyes squeeze shut as I sneeze loudly, the sound of buzzing wasps more insistent than before.
I am sure she is scolding me. I can almost hear her tell me:
“Come on, Killian, I know it bothers you, but this is not the way to deal with this. You’re better than this.
” Another thing she was wrong about, because I am not better.
I switched from elderberry wine to rum, but that’s about it.
The switch was because of the availability of alcohol in each of the realms.
“Leave it, Celeste, that guy is giving me a headache, the only reason I am babysitting him is to fix the mess you made,” I snap, regretting the words the second they leave my mouth.
It’s not fair, and I know it isn’t. Celeste could not help herself falling for Peter’s lies; that is how it works with men like him.
She never asked me to fix it either. I am doing it because I want her back.
That is why I lost my hand, and that is why I am drowning now.
“Peter, you probably don’t know me, but I am Killian Tregear.
I know what you did to Celeste. If you don’t love her anymore, why can’t I just take her home?
” My left hand twitches in the pocket of my overcoat, aching to wrap around my sword.
But I am trying to be calm about this. Show this Peter, that I came here to reason with him, not to fight him.
He turned my Celeste into a small fairy, like the ones in human stories. He created the spell, so I need him to turn her back. Threatening him won’t help me.
His smirk is all teeth and sharp edges, his rectangle pupils narrow until they’re just slits.
“You’re left-handed aren’t you?” The suddenness of the question flashes like a warning sign. It has nothing to do with the reason I am here. Coming from a creature I have not trusted since the very first time Celeste spoke about him, it is concerning.
“Yes, why?” I struggle to keep my voice even.
“Nothing, I just noticed. Thing is Killian, I can’t just release the woman who broke my heart. My people look up to me; you’re a prince too. You understand, right?”
“Sure, but royals negotiate, right? I am not asking her to just let her go, just think about something I might be able to give you in return. As compensation for what you are losing?” I hate talking about her like she is some cattle that I have accidentally shot on a hunting trip and not the most important person in my life.
But it is what I have to do to get her back.
I didn’t listen to myself. I ignored all the warning signs that day.
I did not even try to take Celeste with me.
I waited four days like a lapdog for Peter to come up with a trade offer.
A trade offer that came in the form of a letter tied to Celeste’s leg like she was nothing more than a carrier pigeon.
A letter asking me for my left hand to feed Kinga so he would recognize me and my kind as enemies of the Faun.
“Killian, you cannot be serious about this. There is no way to be sure he will keep his word. What if he doesn’t? You will be powerless without your dominant hand,” Samuel tells me. I get why he is worried, I do, but no matter how small my chances are, it is a risk I am willing to take.
“When we came here, when we left our home behind, we said we would do everything in our power to get her back. If you had a change of heart, get a fucking rowboat and row your sorry ass to the portal and leave like the coward you are,” I spit the words out with enough venom to make a lesser man flinch.
Not Samuel; he just shakes his hand like he pities me. I hate when he does this.
“Cowardice is not the same as being careful. If I was a coward, would I come to tell you how wrong I think you are about this?” His voice has gone soft and steady, the opposite of how hollow and high-pitched mine sounds right now.
Maybe that is why I do not answer him in words.
I just grab a piece of parchment telling Peter I will meet him at the spot he suggested in his letter.
“Sorry for doing this to you, Celeste, but this will soon be over now, and we will get to go home, and everything will be as it was before,” I say, my stiff fingers struggling to tie the soft silk ribbon to tie the letter to her leg.
Equal parts guilt for having to do this to her, and dread for what is about to happen, because deep down, I know Samuel is right.
Even if Peter keeps his promise, which is a gamble, losing my dominant hand is a serious matter.
I will have to learn how to do everything again like a newborn.
The only difference is, this time I will have Celeste at my side, helping me through it all.
Or that should be the case; it is the last glimmer of hope I can hold on to now,”
“Cap’n, you up there, you said you wanted to speak with Belichime as soon as she was ready. She has been waiting for a while now.” Just like that, Seviin’s voice pulls me back to the present.
“Yes, yes, give me a sec. I am coming down.” I rappel down, using my hook. I did learn how to use this prosthesis, just not with Celeste by my side. She is still a brownie bound to the Silvermist Castle; she can come visit me for an hour or two, but then she has to go back ‘home.’
“Sorry, Belichime, Celeste visited, so I lost track of time. I was going to ask you a favor. I know you checked up on our prisoner this morning, but I will be very busy today. If we stay docked here for two days, do you think you can take care of him today? Just bring him his meals, guide him to the bathroom if he needs to use it,” I ask her, trying to sound as if I am asking her to mop the decks one extra time.
“Sure Cap, but to be honest, I don’t think he will eat much today.
He seems barely conscious. He was mumbling in his sleep, drenched in sweat.
Are you sure that is all part of the withdrawal?
” My heart feels stiff and heavy at the worry in her voice.
An emotion she should not be feeling,. He shouldn’t have been here this long. It’s another thing I worry about.
“Yes, it all comes with the process. I know it looks bad. I’ve seen it before.
Does this mean you feel like you cannot take care of him?
You know I never ask any of you to do something you are not comfortable with,” I reassure her.
I’m honest with her, she knows I am. but a part of me hopes she will tell me she is okay with still taking care of him. Because if not, I will have to.