Chapter 13 Maximus
Maximus
Icrept across the lower deck toward Kaspar’s hammock, placing each step with deliberate care.
The metal joint of my prosthetic threatened to betray me with every movement.
I’d wrapped a strip of cloth around the knee mechanism to help muffle any telltale clicks over the familiar symphony of the soft chorus of snoring aeronauts—a sound I couldn’t afford to disrupt.
I had to be quick. In another hour, they would all rise with the dawn.
The last day and a half had been nothing short of hellish.
After the battle with the Sunada fleet, we’d limped away with a fractured mizzenmast, a shredded sail, and enough hull damage to keep half the crew working through the night.
Sparrow’s rigging team had been aloft for nearly twenty hours straight, recalibrating the sails to compensate for our wounded state.
Meanwhile, I’d been playing peacekeeper between exhausted crew members ready to gut each other over trivial matters.
As for Ariella, Stitches had practically barricaded her in the medical cupboard, refusing to let Viper work her to death. “I’ll fight the captain myself if he comes looking for her,” she’d declared, brandishing a bone saw that made even me step back.
And so my interactions with Kaspar had been reduced to stolen moments—a smile exchanged over Sage’s morning gruel that somehow made the tasteless slop bearable; the electric brush of his fingertips against mine when he’d passed me wood measurements; and last night, a lingering look before I’d retreated to my cabin, too exhausted to even remove my boots before collapsing onto my bunk.
Now, navigating between rows of hammocks, I finally spotted him—curled slightly on his side, one arm dangling over the edge of the canvas. His copper hair was tousled across his forehead, and in sleep, the lines of worry on his face these past few days were smoothed away.
I paused beside his hammock, suddenly uncertain. How to wake him without startling him into alerting the entire crew? I couldn’t risk a hand over his mouth—he might strike out before recognizing me. A shake of the shoulder might send him tumbling to the floor.
Then the miracle occurred—his arm that was lolling out twitched, almost like it was reaching toward me. I held my breath as Kaspar’s eyelashes fluttered, then suddenly those dazzling green eyes widened in surprise, catching the dim light from a distant lantern.
“Max?” Kaspar shot up to sitting, the hammock swaying violently beneath him.
I pressed my finger against my lips. “Shhh!”
He leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “What are you doing down here?”
The proximity of his face to mine sent an unexpected flutter through my chest. I caught the faint scent of the soap Sage rationed out—lavender and something earthy—that clung to his skin.
“Are you dressed? I want you to come with me,” I whispered, glancing around to ensure no one had stirred.
A crease formed between his eyebrows. The sleepy confusion in his expression made me want to reach out and smooth that line away with my thumb.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” I added, “but only if you’re quick.”
The words hung between us in the predawn darkness, fragile and promising. For a moment, I worried he might refuse—roll over and go back to sleep, or worse, demand answers that would wake the others. Instead, curiosity flickered across his face, replacing the confusion with something brighter.
I guided Kaspar toward the ladder, my heart pounding as we crept between slumbering aeronauts. Each sound was magnified in the quiet, threatening to ruin my efforts.
“Watch that third rung,” I whispered as we reached the ladder. “It squeaks.”
We emerged onto the main deck, where the first hints of dawn were transforming the sky.
The darkness above had become a canvas of indigo silk, threaded with delicate strands of amber and rose along the eastern horizon.
Stars still punctured the fading night above us, stubborn little beacons not yet ready to surrender.
Kaspar stood transfixed, his gaze sweeping across the awakening sky, then darting nervously around the deck. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt.
“Come on,” I urged, tugging gently at his sleeve.
I guided us all the way back to the stern. Several supply crates stacked nearby created a perfect alcove, blocking us from view. Aside from the crow’s nest—but I’d placed Ariella on lookout duty. I had no doubt her telescopic was trained on us right then.
On the floor, I’d already set out two leather harnesses and safety lines, meticulously checked and double-checked. The metal clips gleamed dully in the growing light.
Kaspar stared at the equipment, still not quite understanding. He studied the harnesses, then glanced at me with bewilderment.
More doubt suddenly crashed through me. Kaspar, like any new aeronaut, kept a firm distance from the railing. What if I’d miscalculated? What if this gesture terrified rather than thrilled him? My throat tightened with unexpected nervousness.
“Do you want to fly with me?” I finally asked, the words tumbling out before I could refine them into something more elegant.
Kaspar’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “F-fly? You mean—outside the ship? In the open air?” His voice cracked slightly on the last words, eyes widening. “But… isn’t that—” He bit into his lip. “Umm…”
“I promise you it’ll be completely safe. And we’ll be clipped together at all times,” I assured him, reaching out to catch his forearm and squeezing it tightly. “I won’t let you fall, Kaspar. Not ever.”
I watched as Kaspar’s gaze met mine, unwavering despite the fear I could see flickering behind those green eyes. The moment stretched between us, taut with possibility.
“Okay then,” he said quietly. “Show me how to fly.”
My heart tap-danced in my chest, elated beyond reason. My hands almost shook with excitement as I reached for the first harness, running my fingers over the familiar leather straps to ground myself.
“Sky-drops are my absolute favorite thing in the world,” I told him, working to keep my voice steady as I began fitting the harness around his torso.
“I don’t get to do it often on The Black Wraith.
But on my old ship, we’d often spend our entire evening in the sky.
” A memory flashed unbidden—Eric’s laughter as we plummeted through clouds together, his fingers interlaced with mine as we free-fell side by side. I shoved the memory away violently.
I slipped the harness over each of Kaspar’s arms, then I tightened the straps across his chest, my fingers brushing against him through the thin fabric of his shirt.
I adjusted the buckles at his shoulders, then knelt to secure the straps around his thighs, suddenly very aware of our proximity.
Before I was tempted to linger, I gave each strap a firm tug to ensure it was secure, then stood.
“I’m excited,” Kaspar said, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.
I attached the safety line to his harness, then fastened my own. The metal clips locked with reassuring clicks. I triple-checked each connection point, tugging hard on the lines. They held fast.
“This line connects us,” I explained, holding up the reinforced cable between us. “It’ll be physically impossible for you to escape me.”
Kaspar raised one flirtatious eyebrow. “Is that a threat, sir?”
Tutting, I lightly slapped the side of his thigh, making him laugh. I tugged him gently toward the railing, though I felt the resistance in his steps.
“Come on,” I encouraged, squeezing his shoulder. “Sit on the railing.”
Climbing it easily, I swung my prosthetic leg over first, then perched there. I patted beside me. “Come on. It’s perfectly safe.”
Kaspar’s gaze flicked from the railing to the vast expanse beyond, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
“Perfectly safe,” I repeated, keeping my voice steady. “I really think you’ll love it, Kas.”
After another moment of hesitation, Kaspar drew in a deep breath and hoisted himself up, his movements stiff and mechanical. He settled beside me, gripping the railing so tightly I feared he might leave permanent indentations in the wood.
“That’s it,” I encouraged, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Now, look down.”
The clouds drifted below us, painted in shadowy blues and purples, like a second ocean suspended in air. The first golden rays of sunlight were just beginning to pierce through, setting the edges of the clouds ablaze with amber light.
Kaspar gasped, his entire body going rigid. A violent tremor ran through him, and he reached blindly for my hand, grabbing it and squeezing with surprising strength. His breathing came in short, shallow bursts.
“Are you—”
“I want to do it,” he interrupted, voice tight but determined. “Just… give me a second.”
I studied his profile—the determined set of his jaw despite the fear in his eyes—and an idea struck me.
“Come here,” I said, patting my lap. “Come sit, facing me.”
Confusion momentarily overrode his fear. “What?”
“Just trust me,” I insisted gently.
With careful guidance, I helped Kaspar slowly swing his leg over so he straddled my thighs.
He instantly shuffled into me, ensuring he wasn’t sitting directly on my stump.
My hands moved to his lower back, stroking down the curve of his spine before settling at his hips.
I pulled him closer until our chests nearly touched.
For a moment, we both held our breath. The weight of him on my lap sent a pleasant warmth spreading through my body. Kaspar’s hands rested tentatively on my shoulders, and he gave me a shy smile that made my heart stutter in my chest. Dawn light caught in his copper hair, turning it to flame.
“Now, shut your eyes and rest your head against my chest,” I instructed, wrapping my arms tightly around him. A growing part of me couldn’t help but be pleased by his nervousness, as it offered this glorious excuse to hold him.