Chapter 8 Maximus #4
I expected the mention of my dead mother to bring with it the familiar sadness, but it didn’t. Ghost shifting closer might have had something to do with that.
“There’s nothing like being up here. No walls, no boundaries. Just endless possibilities in every direction.” My voice softened. “The first time I flew… it was like finally finding home. Like every piece of me that never quite fit, suddenly made sense.”
“But you’re a pirate now,” Ghost said. “Surely that’s not what you dreamed of?”
“No. I dreamed of being a captain. Of having my own ship, choosing my own course.” I ran my hand along the wooden railing.
“I was in Sunada’s Imperial Fleet once, for a spell.
The military… they owned you. Every decision, every route, every breath controlled by someone else’s orders. Up here? We’re free. Truly free.”
“Even with Viper as captain?”
I smiled wryly, swallowing down my words about what I truly thought of our delightful leader.
“My grandfather—my mother’s father—was a captain.
In fact, he eventually became—” I caught myself.
Ghost didn’t appear to be the sort to have any kind of clue about politics or the noble houses, but I couldn’t risk oversharing.
My grandfather had been Fleet Admiral of House Eldritch’s forces, commanding the largest fleet in the Sunada Kingdom.
The same house whose colors I once wore with such pride, before everything went wrong.
Before I’d fallen for a captain with a silver tongue and eyes that promised forever.
Before I’d learned how easily love could be weaponized.
The only small mercy was that my mother died before my fall from grace.
“Someone very important?” Ghost finished with a smile. “Well, I’m sure he’s proud of you, wherever he’s looking down from.”
I stared at him. Was he joking?
“Proud?” A harsh laugh tore from my throat.
“Yes, proud of his grandson becoming a murderer. A monster aboard a pirate ship that throws innocent merchants overboard. Who burns ships and leaves crews stranded in the endless sky to starve.” My hands clenched into fists.
“The great Reaper, who breaks arms and cracks skulls to keep the crew in line. Who watches silently while Viper tortures prisoners for information.”
The memories crashed over me like waves—the screams, the begging, the sound of bones breaking. The way new crew members flinched when I walked past. How many lives had I destroyed? How many families torn apart?
“I’ve killed more men than I can count to save the crew.
Good men. Honest men just trying to feed their families.
” My voice cracked. “And for what? So Viper can add another trinket to his collection? So we can waste it all on drink and whores in the next port?” My breath came in ragged gasps.
The stars blurred above me as my chest tightened.
“Both my grandfather and my mother died believing I was a hero. If they could see me now—”
Ghost’s hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist. The touch shocked through me, anchoring me back to the present. I moved to pull away, but my other hand betrayed me, catching his before he could retreat.
We froze. His skin burned against mine, pale fingers stark against my tanned wrist. The night air seemed to still around us, carrying only the sound of his breathing—quick, shallow pulls that matched the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
“Hi.”
Ghost and I sprang apart like we’d been struck by lightning, scrambling to opposite sides of the crow’s nest. My heart hammered against my ribs as Ariella’s cheerful face appeared above the ladder, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief in the starlight.
I shot her my most intimidating glare, but she just grinned wider.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize I would be interrupting,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.
“You’re not,” I kept my voice steady, professional. “Do you need something?”
“To be honest, I was just coming up for a chat, but I can see you’ve replaced me.” Her smile turned teasing.
I sighed heavily and shifted further across the wooden platform. “Come up.”
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll catch you tomorrow.” She disappeared back down the ladder as silently as she’d arrived.
Ghost’s brow furrowed. “Replaced her? What does she mean?”
Something in his tone made me look over—was that… jealousy?! The thought sent an unexpected warmth through my chest.
“Ariella’s the only person aboard this ship I consider a friend,” I explained. “The only one I can be myself around. Or at least… she was the only one.”
The last part hung awkwardly. Ghost seemed to be lost in thought all of a sudden, looking past me.
I cleared my throat. “You need to understand something. The Reaper can’t have friends. Can’t show any weakness. The crew needs to fear me, or everything falls apart.”
Ghost met my gaze, his eyes sparkling with understanding. “So what you’re saying is, if we’re to continue this… friendship”—his lips twitched on the word—“we need to be more careful?”
“Exactly. No more bringing me meals or asking Sage about my favorite foods. I won’t have anyone using you to get to me.” The thought made me sick to the core.
“I’m not a complete idiot, you know.” Ghost rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t obvious about it just now. Sage only thinks I’m trying to earn favor with the scary first mate to be assigned better chores.”
“Speaking of friends, though,” I said, “Ariella would be good to have in your corner. She’s skilled, respected. The crew listens to her.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Ariella is amazing.” Ghost’s voice took on an exaggerated dreamy quality. “So talented, so beautiful, so perfect in every way.”
The teasing lilt in his voice made something in my chest loosen. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been. A soft laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. The sound felt foreign—when was the last time I’d genuinely laughed?
“But seriously.” I sobered, fixing him with a stern look. “I can’t show you any leniency in front of the others. And you’ll need friends if you’re to survive this place all the way to Asteris.”
Ghost leaned back against the mast, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Most of the crew quite like me now, after I played the knight in shining armor and rescued their prince in distress.”
“I had that situation perfectly under control,” I joked, crossing my arms.
“Of course you did. You could’ve handled all five of them, all by yourself.” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m sure you were just about to dramatically reveal your master plan when I showed up.”
I checked my wristwatch, the pebble-grade fluxstone inside casting a faint blue glow across its face. “Puffy takes over for me in ten minutes.”
The words came out heavy, weighted with a reluctance I hadn’t expected to feel. The night had shifted something between us, carved out a space I wasn’t ready to leave.
“Already?” Ghost’s shoulders slumped.
My gaze slid down to my private cabin below, its wooden door tempting me.
I could suggest we move our conversation there.
I’d never invited anyone into it before.
The thought sent heat flushing through my body—Ghost perched on my bed, that pale skin glowing in my lamplight, those freckles continuing down his—
Don’t be ridiculous, a voice snapped in my ear, sharp as a blade. You’re his superior. The Reaper. And you just promised not to endanger him by association. Besides, he’s only toying with you. He wouldn’t actually want you in that way. You smashed his head against a mast a week ago.
“I’ll be here again tomorrow night,” I found myself saying, the words slipping out before I could catch them. My shift rotation made it true enough—no need to rearrange things, thankfully.
“Okay.” Ghost’s voice came out soft, almost shy. The sound did something strange to my throat.
“Okay,” I echoed.
Our eyes met in the starlight. His green gaze held mine, searching for something I wasn’t sure I wanted him to find.
The night air crackled between us, heavy with words neither of us dared speak.
I broke away first, my fingers unconsciously twisting a silver band on my right hand—a token from a man who’d once claimed it meant we belonged to each other.
I kept it as a reminder, not of love but of betrayal.
The last time I’d let someone this close, I’d lost more than my leg.
I wasn’t sure I had anything left to give.
Especially to someone as brilliant as Ghost.
I cleared my throat. “Well… you better be off then.”
“Charming.” Ghost’s lips quirked up at the corners.
On all fours, he shifted toward the ladder, and for one heart-stopping moment, his face hovered inches from mine. I caught a whiff of soap and a hint of the cinnamon Sage used to flavor the gruel.
My breath hitched.
Then he was moving away, pausing at the top of the rigging to flash me one last smile. It rivaled the moon above in brightness, pure and unguarded in a way that made my heart stutter.
I swallowed hard, watching him disappear down the rigging into the darkness below.
A burst of drunken laughter shattered the night’s peace. I peered over the crow’s nest to see Butcher, Maneater, and Jimmy stumbling across the main deck, their steps uneven from too much drink. The stench of cheap rum wafted up even from this height.
Below me, Ghost froze on the rigging, a small, strangled sound escaping his throat. His knuckles whitened against the rungs.
My fingers twitched toward him. Up here in the darkness, no one would spot him without goggles. The crow’s nest could hide him until the drunken idiots passed out somewhere.
But Ghost had already started moving again, climbing down with careful, silent movements. Smart—better to reach the lower deck before they got close enough to—
“Oi! Who’s that? Ghost?” Butcher’s gravelly voice rang out. “Look what we caught sneaking around after hours, boys. Our resident rat.”
Ghost’s shoulders tensed, but he kept climbing down. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
“Maybe he’s been up there with the Reaper,” Butcher continued with a cruel laugh. “Is that why he hasn’t beaten you bloody yet, pretty boy?”
My jaw clenched so hard my teeth creaked. The metal railing beneath my hands groaned as I gripped it, fighting the urge to climb down and show Butcher exactly why they called me the Reaper.
Reaching the bottom, Ghost’s head snapped up toward me, his eyes wide. In that split-second, an entire conversation passed between us.
“I’m so sorry, sir! It won’t happen again!” he shouted, his voice carrying across the deck with theatrical desperation.
I slammed my hand against the crow’s nest railing. “Not good enough, Ghost! Do you have any idea how much damage your incompetence could have caused?”
“Please, sir! I didn’t mean to spill the coffee you ordered all over the nest!” The tremor in his voice was perfect—just the right mix of fear and regret. “I’ll clean every inch of it, I swear!”
“Clean it? Clean it?” I roared, letting my voice echo across the ship. “Those were the captain’s personal maps you could have ruined! Maybe I should throw you overboard and let you swim home!”
Below, Butcher and his cronies had stopped to watch the show, their earlier taunts forgotten in favor of this more entertaining spectacle.
“No, please!” Ghost clasped his hands together dramatically. “I’ll do anything! I’ll scrub the whole ship twice over! I’ll… I’ll clean the captain’s quarters with my tongue!”
I bit back a laugh, covering it with a growl. “Get below deck now, before I change my mind about keeping you alive! And if you spill my coffee again, you’ll wish the sea serpents had gotten you!”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! Right away, sir!” Ghost scrambled down the last few rungs and bolted past the drunken group, who were now howling with laughter at his apparent misfortune.
“Showed him good, Reaper!” Butcher called up, miming wiping tears from his eyes. “Little rat needed a proper dressing down!”
I grunted in acknowledgment, maintaining my stern facade while watching Ghost disappear below deck. The man had quick wit, I’d give him that. And his acting… well, he might have missed his calling in the theater.
When I saw Puffy trudging toward the crow’s nest for his watch, I started my descent, each rung of the ladder familiar beneath my hands. Another night duty finished.
But there would be another watch tomorrow. Another night among the stars, another shift in the crow’s nest where a certain ginger-haired aeronaut might make an appearance.
And, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t hate the idea of tomorrow. In fact, I found myself looking forward to it.
It was a feeling as dangerous as sailing blind.
And about as wise as flying straight into a lightning storm.