Fourteen
TIME STOOD STILL for seconds, minutes, years.
He looked thinner, and his blond hair was long enough to brush past his shoulders now, but he was alive, and the punch of relief she felt was a bitter pill to swallow.
Tal made a sound as though someone had knocked the air out of his lungs.
A tremor shook Charis, sending an ache through her veins that throbbed in her fingertips. She wanted to cry. To throw herself into his arms. To strike him hard enough that he would know some fraction of the pain she was feeling. To scream her rage until her throat was raw. How could grief, anger, and love become such a tangled knot, impossible to separate?
He’d read it on her face. He always had. And she’d rather be dragged beneath the water by a Rakuuna than appear vulnerable to him.
Desperately, she reached for some semblance of control. Pressing her lips together in a thin, firm line, she met his brown eyes as though the sight of him meant nothing.
Less than nothing.
Certainly not worthy of revealing even a hint of the wound he’d given her.
“Charis.” He breathed her name like a prayer.
“She’s not alone,” Holland said.
“Holland.” Tal met his gaze.
“Impostor.” Holland stalked toward him. “I once promised to disembowel you if you ever hurt Charis.”
“I remember.” Tal held his ground.
Holland drew his sword. “This brings me no pleasure. No, that’s a lie. It’s going to bring me a little bit of pleasure.”
Tal held up his hands in surrender. “I deserve whatever you want to do to me, but you might need me to help Charis deal with my father so she can retake Calera. I promise, once she’s safely on her throne again, you can do as you please to me. I won’t fight back.”
Holland’s eyes narrowed, and he stood in silence for a long moment. Finally, voice heavy with suspicion, he said, “You won’t?”
“I swear it.” Tal looked at Charis, his expression full of resignation and regret.
“Why would you do that?” Holland demanded.
Tal continued looking at Charis. “Because I deserve it. Besides, nothing you could do to me is worse than living with how much I’ve hurt her.”
Holland glared. “You really know how to drain all the enjoyment out of this for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Tal said, but his eyes were only for Charis. “You have no idea how sorry—”
“Holland, let’s take a look at the quarters and figure out how to get dry.” She turned away from Tal, grateful that her voice, though thin, remained steady.
“Well, this is going to be awkward,” Holland said to no one in particular.
Charis willed Tal to move aside as she came into the cabin, but he stayed where he was. Fine. She was a queen. She could handle anything.
The cabin was a cramped L-shaped room with two sets of bunk beds bolted to the walls, a vanity with a basin for water fixed to the top, a dresser, a tiny desk and chair, and a small bath closet.
One of the beds had obviously been slept in. The others appeared untouched.
“You’re bleeding,” Tal said softly as she swept past him.
She frowned and turned to the mirror above the vanity. The glass was warped, changing her face into a parody of itself, but there along her neck was a thin line of blood dripping onto the collar of her shirt. She must have been scraped by the Rakuuna’s claws as she fought for air.
“Here.” Tal brushed past her, reaching for the vanity, and she jumped back as if stung.
He froze and then said, “I apologize for startling you.”
The bitter laugh that escaped her took them both by surprise. Quickly, he said, “I know I have far more important things to apologize for, but first can I help you stop the bleeding?”
Moving slowly, he reached into the top drawer and withdrew some gauze but made no move to come closer to her.
Wise decision. She might have left her sword on board her ship, but she could do a lot of damage with her dagger. Maybe she hadn’t wanted him dead, but wounded was still on the table.
“I’ll be careful. I promise,” he said.
Like he’d been careful with her heart? No thank you.
She was exquisitely aware of Tal’s presence. The way his chest rose and fell with every breath. The look of pain in his eyes when she refused to hold eye contact. The weight of everything left unsaid between them filled the cabin, an invisible wall Charis had no intention of breaching.
The ache in Charis’s veins seemed to grow, scraping at her composure until she wanted to scream or cry or both. Turning to Holland, she said crisply, “You can help bandage my neck.”
And after that, she would crawl under the covers of the bed furthest from Tal’s. Under no circumstances was she going to be able to maintain her expression of cold indifference if she had to be around him much longer.
“Um... I’m not very good at helping people feel better,” Holland said as he came toward them. “Maybe you should just let the impostor—”
“Not him.” Charis spat the words without looking at Tal. “I’d rather lose every drop of blood in my body than have him help me.”
“Understandable, but unnecessary.” Holland snatched the gauze from Tal and shoved it against Charis’s neck. “It’s not bleeding fast enough for you to lose all your blood before the wound cauterizes on its own.”
“Be gentle with her,” Tal’s voice sharpened.
“Oh, look who’s giving lessons on how to treat Charis. Give me a moment. I’d like to take notes.” Holland brushed roughly at the cut, and Charis hissed.
“Give me that.” She took the gauze, folded it until she had a clean square, and pressed it gently to her neck. “Holland, please find me some dry clothes. I’m going to bed.” She cut her eyes toward Tal. “And I expect to be left alone.”
He held up his hands. “I won’t disturb you while you sleep.”
Her lips twisted. He’d been disturbing her sleep ever since she’d learned his true identity. At least now, if he woke her in the dead of night, she could actually cause him some of the pain he deserved.
Holland searched the dresser and came back with a linen tunic that, judging by the length, was made to fit a Rakuuna. She’d wear it as a nightgown while her own clothes dried and hope that there would be no emergency requiring her to leave the cabin while wearing such a flimsy garment.
“I’ll change in the bath closet,” she said.
“It’s too small.” Tal shrugged when she glared at him.
Since when was a bath closet too small for a quick outfit change? She took the tunic, opened the narrow door, and sighed.
Tal was right, curse him. There was barely enough room to turn around, much less strip off damp clothing.
“We’ll turn our backs,” Tal said.
“Trust us, nobody wants to see you undress.” Holland shuddered as he turned away, blocking the mirror with his body and looking studiously at the ceiling.
Tal’s ears were red as he stared out the small porthole window, and warmth flushed Charis’s skin as well. There was a time when Tal had certainly been interested in watching her undress, though he’d been far too honorable to act upon it. Was he blushing because he still wanted her? Or was he remembering that he’d been honorable about her body while recklessly using her heart?
Hours later, Charis was sick of tossing and turning in the lumpy, uncomfortable bunk bed. Holland had insisted she take the lower bunk, even though that put her only two arm spans away from Tal’s bed, because if the ship encountered turbulence at night, he wanted the risk of being flung to the floor instead of her.
She’d been sleeping fitfully ever since the invasion. Trying to rest now, while she was at the mercy of her enemies and Tal was close by, was impossible.
Moving as quietly as possible, she climbed from her bunk and went to stand at the porthole. The sister moons hung full and bright in the velvet sky, their sapphire light glistening against the dark water like a spill of blue silk. The ship was cutting through the swells with incredible speed. Charis gripped the edges of the porthole as a dizzy spell hit.
“They push the boat from underneath,” Tal said softly from behind her.
She gritted her teeth and kept her attention on the sea.
“That’s why the ship moves so fast. Part of the crew grabs handholds beneath the hull and swims.” He stepped closer to the porthole.
She stiffened, and he stopped moving.
“I’m so sorry, Charis.” Pain was a living, breathing thing within his voice. “I—”
“No.” She gripped the wall as her knees trembled.
When was the last time she’d eaten? Or slept?
Maybe it wasn’t her body giving out on her. Maybe it was that the idea of having a conversation with Tal was simply impossible.
He didn’t deserve to know how much he’d hurt her.
“All right, we won’t talk about that yet.” Tal sounded as if he was feeling his way for a candle in the dark. “Since I’ve been a captive here, I’ve gathered information on the Rakuuna that I think you’ll find useful. We can talk about that as we take care of your wound. We don’t want it to get infected. I can go get clean water and real bandages. They don’t have medicine our bodies would recognize, so we’ll have to—”
“We will not be doing anything.” Charis drew in a breath of freezing air and turned, her mask of indifference firmly in place. “I will take care of myself. You can do whatever you want. I really couldn’t care less.”
She stalked to her bed and climbed beneath the rough blanket once more, leaving him standing in the cold alone.