Chapter 19 Maximus
Maximus
Icouldn’t turn around. Couldn’t face him. My back remained rigid as I stared at the engine components while my mind spiraled.
Murray’s eyes flicked between us once before he abruptly pretended to be busy, shooing Sprocket to the corner farthest from me.
A fluxweaver. All this time, Kas had been a fluxweaver.
Kaspar’s whispered apology echoed in my ears. I was going to tell you, I swear. But he hadn’t. That was the point. He hadn’t trusted me enough to share this most essential part of himself.
I’d opened my heart completely. Told him about Eric, about my darkest moments, about the betrayal that had cost me everything. I’d laid myself completely bare, something I hadn’t done since… since Eric. And yet Kaspar had kept this fundamental truth hidden.
My fingers traced the edge of the nearest engine-grade fluxstone, still warm from where he’d recharged it. The evidence of his deception was literally at my fingertips.
This was precisely why I’d shut myself off after Eric. I’d sworn never to be vulnerable again, never to trust so completely. And here I was, the fool who hadn’t learned his lesson, betrayed once more by someone I’d allowed myself to care for.
The worst part was that I couldn’t even hate him for it. His power had saved us all. Without his ability, we’d be in the belly of that sand kraken by now.
But that didn’t stop the ache spreading through my chest, sharper than any phantom pain from my missing leg.
“Max…” Kas said softly, behind me.
“Save it,” I practically snarled at him, wincing at myself.
I heard him shift behind me, his breath catching. Good. Let him feel a fraction of what I was feeling.
We’d need to talk properly, and soon, but first, I had to solve our rather pressing problem of two fully charged engine-grade fluxstones where dead ones should be.
Murray now stood awkwardly between us, fingers fidgeting with a wrench. I strode toward him, my prosthetic leg dragging slightly as my anger overwhelmed my usual careful gait.
“Murray,” I snapped, looming over the engineer, “you’re going to pretend that you were suddenly able to tap into some more power from those stones.”
Murray stared at me like I’d sprouted wings. “What?”
“You’ll tell everyone you found a way to extract emergency reserves from the depleted fluxstones.”
Murray’s mouth fell open. “That won’t work—”
“You’re going to try!” I roared, slamming my fist against the wall beside his head. The sound echoed through the engine room like a cannon blast. Murray flinched, shrinking against the wall as I invaded his space. “Because you know what will happen if—”
“Max, calm down.” Kaspar’s voice was soft but steady.
I barely registered his words. All I could see was the danger closing in around us—around him. If Viper discovered what Kaspar was…
A fluxweaver would be the prize of prizes to him.
“Max, you’re scaring him.” Kaspar’s hand tentatively touched my arm. “And me.”
I jerked away from his touch. “I’m trying to save your life!” My throat constricted, voice breaking on the final word, the fear beneath my rage bubbling to the surface.
Murray pushed back from the wall, his initial shock transforming into indignation.
“Listen here, Reaper,” he growled, using my title like a curse. “I’ve been the engineer on this ship for eight years. I can’t risk my reputation—and my life—on some cockamamie story that anyone with half a brain would see through in seconds.”
The distinct clack of boots on metal froze my blood. I knew those footsteps. We all did.
Murray’s eyes widened in panic. Kaspar stiffened behind me.
A heartbeat later, Captain Viper barged into the engine room, removing his tricorn hat. His dark eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene—me practically pinning Murray against the wall, Kaspar hovering nervously behind us.
“Reaper! What’s he done?” Viper demanded, gold tooth glinting.
Murray glared at me, the silent threat in his eyes unmistakable. One word from him and Kaspar’s secret would be out.
Viper pushed past us, drawn to the engine housing like a moth to flame. His tattooed fingers reached out, caressing the fluxstones with an almost obscene reverence.
“They’re fully charged!” he exclaimed, his voice rising with wonder. “Blazing hells, they’re practically humming with power!” He spun around, eyes wild with excitement. “How can this be?”
I remained perfectly still, keeping Murray pinned with my gaze. My mind raced through scenarios, each more disastrous than the last. If Viper discovered Kaspar’s ability, he’d chain him to the engine room forever—or sell him to the highest bidder.
“Exactly what I was wondering, Captain,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.
What the fuck was my plan? I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. My pulse thundered in my ears as panic surged through me. Murray could expose Kaspar with a single sentence. I could try to discredit him, but Viper wasn’t stupid—the evidence was right there, glowing in the engine housing.
I’d faced down pirates and sea monsters without flinching, but this moment—with Kaspar’s fate hanging by a thread—terrified me more than anything I’d encountered in my years in the sky.
“Impossible! Unless…” Viper’s gaze darted from the fluxstones to Kaspar, who had kept unnaturally quiet throughout the exchange. I noticed he was trembling subtly, like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze—imperceptible to most, but not to me. Not anymore.
“No… surely…” Viper strode across the engine room and grabbed Kaspar’s arm, yanking him forward. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to spring. It took everything I had not to rip Viper’s arm off right then and there.
Viper’s eyes narrowed as he studied Kaspar’s face. “A fluxweaver?”
Deny it! I wanted to scream. But one look at Kaspar’s face told the entire story. The truth was written there, plain as day—guilt, fear, and resignation all mingled together.
Viper’s face split into a wide grin. He laughed, a sound like gravel being crushed underfoot. “Well, that was good luck, that we had you on board, wasn’t it, boy?”
Kaspar nodded once, his eyes fixed on the floor.
“Shame you took so long to assist us, though.” Viper’s voice hardened, dropping to a dangerous register. “All those men we just lost… they’re dead now. Friends of yours, weren’t they? Might still be alive if you’d revealed your little talent sooner.”
Kaspar’s shoulders slumped, his head hanging lower. The weight of those deaths—deaths that weren’t his fault, not really—crushing him before my eyes.
“Not to worry.” Viper clapped him on the shoulder with false camaraderie. “I’m sure you can make it up to me.”
The implication in those words made my stomach turn.
Suddenly, Viper’s head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Did you know about this?”
“No, Captain, not at all,” I said, the words coming easily because they were true. A bitter laugh nearly escaped my throat at the irony—the one time I could be completely honest with Viper, and it was about something I wished I’d known all along.
Viper studied my face for a moment longer before apparently deciding I was telling the truth. He turned and walked toward the door, humming a pleasant tune to himself.
Once Viper was gone, I released Murray from my grip and spoke in a low, dangerous voice. “Get out.”
Murray didn’t need to be told twice. He scurried away, slamming the door behind him, Sprocket following on his heels.
The engine room fell silent except for the low, rhythmic hum of the newly charged fluxstones.
I stepped toward Kaspar, who was hastily wiping his eyes with his sleeve. Tears streaked down his freckled face, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
His pain twisted horribly inside me, my earlier anger evaporating. I reached out, but he pushed my hand away half-heartedly.
“Don’t,” he whispered, voice cracking.
His knees buckled, and he slid down the wall to the floor. I followed, my prosthetic leg awkwardly folding beneath me as I slumped beside him against the cold metal.
“He’s right. They’re dead because of me,” Kaspar choked out, staring at his hands.
“They died because I was too much of a selfish coward to save them.” His voice rose with anguish.
“And now Viper knows anyway! They died for nothing!” He looked at me, eyes red-rimmed and desperate.
“I’m going to die on this ship, chained to these engines for the rest of my life unless Viper decides to sell me.
And you—you hate me now. I’ve lost everything. ”
“I don’t hate you, Kaspar,” I said softly. “I could never hate you.”
“You can barely look at me!”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded, the hurt surging back. “We could have faced this together! There’s so much more I could have done if only I’d known! The fact that you don’t trust me—”
“I do trust you!” Kaspar shot back.
“Not enough, clearly,” I said bitterly. “I haven’t allowed myself to care for anyone since Eric because his betrayal hurt so bad. It hurt so badly, I wanted to die. So when I find out you kept this from me—”
“You don’t understand the magnitude of this secret, Max,” Kaspar interrupted, a flash of anger in his eyes.
“Nobody ever could. No one can understand the fear I’ve had to live with every single day, every single moment, since the second my power emerged.
I… I’ve lived with this secret—with this fear—for so long that it’s second nature to hide it.
But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I was desperate to tell you.
And I’m glad it’s out now, just so I’m not hiding it from you anymore.
” His hand found mine, fingers stroking my arm gently.
I studied his face—the face I’d come to know so well. I couldn’t stay angry at him. Not when I understood fear so intimately myself.
Reaching up, I cupped the back of his neck, aware we were in clear view of the engine room window, but in that moment, finding it difficult to care.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his tear-stained cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the tang of salt spreading across my tongue.
“I understand. I wish you’d told me, but I do understand.
” I ran a hand through my hair, the stress of the situation pressing down on me like a physical weight.
“We’ll talk more later, but for now, we need to go upstairs. See what’s happening with the ship.”
Kaspar didn’t move. His eyes, still wet with tears, held a hollow, distant look that sent a chill through me.
“Max,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “Thank you for everything. For these past weeks. The crow’s nest. The sky-drop. Spending time with you…” He swallowed hard. “It’s been the most precious thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Something in his tone made my skin prickle with dread.
“When we go up in a moment,” he continued, “I’m going to throw myself off the ship.”
My heart stopped, then thundered back to life with painful force. “Don’t be ridiculous.” The words came out strangled, barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears.
Kaspar looked away. “It’s the only way. I can’t let myself be plugged in, Max. I just can’t. Even if I’m unplugged again, I won’t survive. Nobody ever does.”
I grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to face me. “Look at me. Look at me, Kaspar.”
Reluctantly, he raised his gaze to mine. Those green eyes—like sunlight filtering through forest leaves—were clouded with despair.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice low and fierce. “I’ll die before I let anything happen to you, Kas.”
His eyes widened, surprise momentarily displacing the hopelessness. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I mean it.” A sudden conviction threaded through me, stronger than any I’d felt since my days serving in the fleet. “I promised you I’d get you to Asteris safely, and I still mean it. I’ll think of something. Even if it means I’ll never see you again.”
Tears welled in his eyes once more, spilling over onto his freckled cheeks. I brushed them away with my thumb, my hand lingering against his face.
“Come on,” I said, pulling us both to our feet. “I need to go assess the damage, and you’re staying with me.”
I gripped Kaspar’s hand. His fingers trembled in mine, but I held on tighter, wishing with every fiber of my being that I could keep holding on forever.
That we could stay together, find some remote corner of the world where no one knew us, where his abilities wouldn’t matter, where my past couldn’t find me.
The thought of it—waking up beside him every morning, watching sunlight dance across his freckled face, building something real together—hurt worse than any amount of pain.
Because that wasn’t to be.
I tugged him along the hold, pausing before we reached the hatch, pulling Kaspar into a shadowy alcove. The distant sounds of the crew shouting orders filtered down to us, but for this brief moment, we existed in our own pocket of time.
“I’ll fix this,” I whispered, pressing my forehead against his. “I don’t know how yet, but I will.”
He nodded, but the resignation in his eyes told me he didn’t believe it.
All I could do now was make sure he survived this. Get him safely to Asteris, away from Viper, away from anyone who would use him for his power. I’d never see him again after that.
But that would be enough. It had to be enough.