Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Killian
“Peter, you’re here fina—“ followed by a soft broken “ Oh.”
His face falls seeing me when he was expecting to find the goat he believes to be the love of his life massaging his head.
“Sorry, it’s just me.” The words were meant as a taunt, mocking his love for Peter, who could have been here saving his “mate” by now. But they come out softer, tender, with more care than anyone who loves Peter deserves.
Celeste loved Peter too, and you gave up your hand for a chance at getting her back. That annoying voice in the back of my mind that had become louder and louder keeps telling me.
“I can see that.” His voice is weak but still harsh and cold, not laced with emotions I do not deserve to inspire, emotions I should not crave from him.
Just like he doesn’t deserve my sadness and empathy, but to see his golden eyes gloss over with unshed tears at seeing me, felt like a stab to my tightening heart.
As if he was ever going to be happy to see me.
His edge is gone, and so is his fire. Every word he uttered up till now, even when he was so ill and rambling—talking to Peter, asking about his brothers—was sharp.
Like a knife spreading butter on warm toast, soft, comforting but with a sharp edge that will still cut you open if you are not careful.
Now it’s flat, like a piano that has been left untuned and unplayed for far too long.
The withdrawal is going down, he is beginning to see the truth about Peter.
So why am I not happy about that? Why is my mind scrambling with things to do so I can cheer him up?
When I just kidnapped him, I hated that edge, that fire.
Arguably because that fire, especially combined with his wit, made my life a lot harder.
I never intended to kidnap him in the first place, leaving me utterly unprepared, and his constant fighting, his attempts to hurt me, to escape, made this new quest even harder.
I blamed him for being so strong and still falling for Peter’s tricks, but that wasn’t fair, and it was not the real reason for my anger.
He is a victim too, someone I might have gotten along with in another life.
That must be why I feel so desperate to cheer him up now.
“I just came up to bring you another glass of juice, but you were struggling to breathe. The sheets were wrapped around you too tight,” I offer up an explanation for my presence.
An explanation he didn’t ask for, one I have never given him before.
It is not the full story, though. I will take the full story to my grave with me.
One last glass of makana juice, and then I will ask someone else to take over.
I have been taking care of him for most of the day.
It’s been draining. I wasn’t lying to Belichime when I told her I had a lot to do today.
She was willing to take care of him, but he’s like a light in the stormy ocean, something I am drawn to.
Without being sure if it is a lighthouse, or someone luring my ship to the cliffs so it will sink.
The pull had proven to be too much, so I relieved Belichime from her duties with a weak excuse.
Sitting next to his bed listening to him moan and mumble. Wiping his forehead with a cold, wet cloth to keep him from overheating. I kept telling myself it was because I was waiting to hear if he would spill secrets I could use. Even if I did not believe the excuse myself.
At first, I could not look at him without seeing Celeste, his short brown hair turning into long golden hair.
Equally matted, from twisting and turning, bathing in sweat.
Not that I have ever been there for Celeste during these periods of withdrawal.
She told me about it in letters she was never supposed to send.
Letters where she begged me to come for her and to help her.
So when James was whimpering in his sleep, mumbling names I believe are his brothers, I could only see Celeste in bed whimpering for me.
But as I stepped into the room to give him the last glass of juice, it was different.
His normally peachy skin turned to a sickly gray.
He was murmuring again, and I could not make out the words.
Just his tone, sending shivers down my spine at the pure panic.
Panic so thick, that my instincts kick in, preparing for a threat that cannot logically be in this room.
He trashes against the sheet, and only then do I notice how tightly they have wound around them.
His breathing is far too shallow, his hands clawing at the silk that has wrapped around his chest. He moved around so much that he is slowly suffocating himself.
My hand tingles with panic, and not because I see Celeste before me right now.
No, the panic is because of the man, who I dragged from his home.
Whose happiness I took from him, blaming him for making the same mistakes I am so desperately trying to erase for Celeste—the man who has been on my mind for days, must feel like he is dying now, all because of me.
I can barely hear the sharp, clean rip of my silk as I cut through it using my hook. His breathing immediately slows down.
I was still settling down from what really happened, and the bitter pang of jealousy I felt when he was so disappointed it was me who saved him felt like a new punch to the gut.
Like I expected anything else, like I expected him to be happy to see me when he thought he was being rescued by the one he was waiting for.
The glass squeaks on the wooden chest as James pushes it back toward me. “I don’t want your juice. I don’t know what you have done with it. Just water is fine,” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact.
“What I have done with it? What the hell are you suggesting this time? That I am poisoning you? Well best hope your lover goat will be here to come and collect you soon. Because he is taking his sweet time, and I am getting sick and tired of babysitting an ungrateful brat. Should have just let you drown. Should have just played him and taken what he is supposed to love the most from him like he did with me.”
He flinches either at my words or the sound of wood clattering to wood. I don’t even care to pick the chair up from the floor. “You will eat and drink whatever the hell I am giving you. And be fucking grateful you are getting anything at all.”
Nice, I am screaming again, loud enough for the entire crew to hear.
The crew, who like me, are getting anxious about the fact Peter might never come to rescue James.
This was a big risk because—no one can predict what the king of the fauns is going to do.
And the reason I am screaming is not because I am offended by James thinking I might poison him.
No, I am hurt by his lack of trust in me.
I hid a desperate last attempt as a solid plan, an opportunity that had fallen in our lap when we found him there, napping at the lake’s banks.
When in reality, I could not pass up on the opportunity.
Both to hurt Peter, and because I truly hoped he would come for his mate.
Whether out of love or hatred for me, and not wanting me to have what entertains him.
And now, my traitorous feelings are only complicating things more.
The second we were back on my ship I wrote him a letter, sent it, letting him know I have his mate. Told him the price to get his mate back. I have sent several letters since that moment. All of them have gone unanswered.
I am running out of excuses to tell myself that this will still work out for us.
Releasing James would show Peter my weakness, and he is kicking this weird addiction Peter puts his lovers under.
To send him back to that man, knowing what does to lovers who see through his manipulation.
I would carry that guilt in my bones; it would be etched into my immortal soul.
A burden that would be too great to bear.
This kidnapping has twisted into some kind of bizarre rescue quest no one knew they were a part of until it was too late. And all so the human, whose ass I am saving, can accuse me of doing something so vile. The human whose fire burns as much as it warms.
I storm out of his hut, and no matter what happens, I am not going to take care of him anymore.
If no one in my crew wants to, he can just starve for all I care.
I look back over my shoulder for one last time.
My chest suddenly feels hollow as I see how he is slumped forward, shoulders hunched, like he is carrying a heavy bag.
The now torn silk darkens in spots, as he lets his tears fall freely, his usually so soft brown hair hanging around his face in sweat slicked strands.
This is my fault, but I don’t know what I have done.
I am almost ashamed to admit I have done far worse to him.
Fuck it, doesn’t matter how or why I hurt him.
He is collateral damage. He is lucky I am not sending his ass back to Peter.
I bet James would make a really pretty brownie.
The floor reverberates with the force of the door slamming shut.
I see James flinch in my mind. I need Samuel; he needs to tell me what to make of this mess in my mind. He has always been able to.
“I have to say, Killian, I was starting to think that we wouldn’t have our usual drinking night this time,” Samuel tells me when we are sitting at one of the pubs close to where we are docked.
“What are you talking about, we have been going out for nights like these every time we docked, ever since we were in the Fae Royal Flotilla,” I rebuff not yet ready to admit how different these last few days had been compared to all the other days we spent on a ship together.
“You ever miss those days?” Samuel watches me, waiting for my answer as he smokes his pipe.
“Parts of it…on the ship with the crew, everyone knowing we were honorable marines. Celeste staying with us for small quests, the scent of the sea back home. I miss that every day.”
Samuel nods. He knows the parts I do not miss, the parts that made it far too easy for me to leave my home behind to go rescue Celeste.
“Do you miss it? Do you ever regret you followed me? I mean, things back home were different for you; you could have just lived the life you wanted, no royal traditions dictating your future,” I ask my best friend, the man who once was my personal bodyguard and First Lieutenant.
“No, you are my best friend, Killian. I chose a stubborn bastard, who listens to his feelings more than he does to reason. This is what I get for doing so, and I regret nothing. You are still the person I love most in the world.” His voice is the same deep, grainy timbre I am used to.
No regret, not even overly warm, as he tells me he loves me.
“I am lucky to have someone as calm and steady as you, who expresses his emotions so easily as my best friend. And I love you too; these past eons, I would not have made them without you.” I quickly order us another drink, buying myself time before I need to tell him about the fact that the mess in my mind and my failing leadership are because of one stubborn human being I kidnapped on impulse.
“What is on your mind?”
Well, that tactic didn’t work.
Samuel is once again reading me like an open book.
“James Barington,” I blurt out, never considering how that sounds. Coarse brown hair parts wider, revealing rows of pearly whites, the brown eyes above it sparkle with mischief,
“Ha, Seviin owes me two gold pieces,” he chuckles, like the fact that I am absolutely stuck is entertaining to my two longest friends.
“Not like that, you Sea Urchin. I just see Celeste in him. Peter has not responded to any of my letters. It’s like he doesn’t care for James and getting him back at all. I mean I was not under the impression that he finally learned how to truly love. I just…”
Samuel’s expression softens, his eyes narrowing in concentration, suddenly understanding the complexity of the situation we are in now because of me. I am failing as a Captain, and being a good Captain to my crew is the only thing I had left to be proud of.
Phwwwwwhht
Samuel’s only answer comes in the form of a low whistle, “That is messed up, you know… just releasing him. He could still run to Peter and tell him how to find us,” he finally says.
It feels like my head is not connected to my neck anymore, like if it keeps spinning like this, it will just spin off. The sudden chill of the blood rushing through my body makes my limbs go stiff and painful.
“What, you must have figured that one out yourself. That’s why you are worried, right?”
“Euhm, yes… of course, what else? It’s just confronting to hear someone else say what I have been thinking,” I lie, because I barely thought about my crew.
I barely thought about the spell I have put on the Obsidian Oath.
All I thought about was the fact that, if I let James go back to Peter, he would most likely end up like Celeste.
“Plus, I feel bad, I didn’t realize that because James spent time on the Obsidian Oath, he will be able to find her again.
This is the first time I realized that my protection spell is flawed.
” For now, Samuel seems to believe me. Normally, he would have seen right through my lies, so it is obvious he is worried too.
“He only had one shift in the kitchen, but the entire crew liked his food. He seems to get along relatively well with the kitchen staff. He still sees us all as the enemy, hate to say it, but I can’t blame him for it.” Samuel shrugs at the last words.
Samuel is right. Of course James hates us; we tore him away from his home, his remaining family, the man he feels he loves. There is no reason for me to be so hurt. I should understand it like Samuel does, and the fact that I don’t is only adding on to my problems.