Death’s Hand
Chapter thirty-four
Death’s Hand
The sound of Lucianna’s name being called tugged her attention reluctantly from the creamy orange of the sunset.
She turned around and saw her husband waving her toward where he stood in the doorway of the captain’s quarters.
Since their sparring match that morning, Lucianna had endeavored to avoid him.
That was rather difficult on such a small ship, but she had been successful, if only because Finnick had spent much of the afternoon with Castien.
Lucianna wrapped her sage-green shawl further around her and made her way down the stairs of the forecastle to the main deck.
Once the smoke cleared from below deck, she’d changed into a cream day dress that was accented with tiny pearl flowers on the bodice.
The skirts were layered and draped, featuring darling chocolate-brown bows.
Perhaps it was foolish to wear such a thing on a ship that could be attacked at a moment’s notice, but beauty was its own kind of shield, and one she felt necessary today.
Though she had won their match, there was credence to Finnick’s raspy whisper toward the end of the fight.
He was the victor, for he had caught her admiration.
That was why Lucianna donned her best armor afterward.
She chose each piece carefully. Adjusted every bow and made sure her locket sat just so in the middle of her collarbone.
It calmed her. Reassured her. There was no need to panic.
A fleeting moment of attraction did not mean her wits had been stolen from her.
She was in control.
Lucianna passed Cora, who had taken up residence at the table usually dedicated to meals and tea.
It was now scattered with vials, pouches of herbs, more than one sketchbook, and an array of pencils and quills.
Cora paid her no mind as she passed. The woman was single-minded when it came to her work.
Lucianna admired that about her, even if it did bring about incidents like the one this morning.
“Castien has a few matters to discuss with you,” Finnick said as she approached.
He held the door open for her, and she moved through without a word.
Inside the cabin was warmer than without.
A row of candles were lit atop the captain’s desk.
Lucianna suspected Kaiden wouldn’t be thrilled to see stacks of parchment and journals leaning precariously toward the flames.
Wren stood near the bookshelf in a lavender gown.
She was flipping through a book with a title too faded for Lucianna to make out.
Across the room stood Castien, his back to everyone as he wrote on a slip of parchment that was stuck to the wall.
“She’s here,” Finnick announced to the room’s otherwise engaged occupants.
Wren lifted her eyes from the book and granted Lucianna a gentle smile. Castien did not move from his work.
“Cas,” Finnick prompted. When no answer came, he turned to Wren.
She let out a sigh and tucked the book in the crook of her arm before crossing the room to where her husband stood. The princess laid a delicate hand on Castien’s back, between his shoulder blades.
“Dearest,” she murmured, barely loud enough for Lucianna to hear her.
Castien’s quill stilled. He stared at the wall for a few breaths, then dropped his hand.
“Forgive me, I find my focus torn between planes lately,” Castien said as he turned to face Lucianna and Finnick.
“Lately?” Finnick chuckled and took a seat in the chair behind the captain’s desk.
Wren handed Castien a cloth and he wiped the ink off with it, though it seemed to mostly smudge the darkness rather than rid him of it.
Lucianna hovered near the door. She was still unsure of her place in this group.
Amongst the crew she felt more confident.
There was a role to fulfill, a job to complete, and she was good at those things.
She prided herself in doing exactly what was required of her.
But here, in this cozy trio who seemed to know each other deeper than she had ever known anyone—even her brother—Lucianna did not know how to fit in.
There was no outline for her to follow. No expectation set before her.
But there was no reason to dwell on that now. No doubt Castien had called for her about the heist.
“I have been going through the plans and adjusting where I see fit,” Castien said as he set the ink-stained rag on the mahogany nightstand that framed the bed. “And I realized I do not know you very well.”
Finnick laughed and Lucianna was tempted to join him.
“How shocking, given we met her mere days ago,” Finnick deadpanned.
Castien gave him an unamused look.
“What I mean to say is that I am not aware of the full extent of your skills, nor your limitations.” He looked up at his wall of parchment.
Lucianna did not bother, for she knew she would not be able to make sense of it.
“I know this is a personal question, one that I would not answer if I were you, but I must ask it nonetheless.”
Lucianna’s stomach rolled at his preface. Could it be that he uncovered her heritage? Or perhaps he found documents pertaining to the mission she did not speak about. The one that ended in the only death at her hand. She tangled her fingers in her shawl so as to not fidget.
“Are there any drawbacks to your Gift?” he inquired. “A detriment with use or disuse of it? Something that would prevent you from calling upon it when necessary?”
Relief hit her like a breeze off the coast. Her hands relaxed.
This she would lie about, but it would not be so difficult a lie to bear.
She still wasn’t sure she could trust this crew she had been forced into, this family that wasn’t hers.
Lucianna had never trusted anyone outside of her family.
The death of her mother, followed by the way her father raised her, made certain that she was wary of anyone that did not share Morrowe blood.
“None that I have discovered,” she said in the voice that was not hers.
Castien appeared curious, but he did not press her further.
“Very well, that is helpful. And your other skills . . . your father listed a great many. One of which included an ability to make yourself disappear.”
Lucianna ventured a smile at this.
“Yes, I am adept at escape and hiding.”
She heard a soft snort and glanced at Finnick. A smirk curled his lips. She frowned but did not give him the satisfaction of taking his bait.
“And are you afraid of enclosed spaces?” Castien inquired further.
Lucianna shook her head. “Not in the least.”
Castien nodded, his expression pensive and calculating.
“Finnick, find Petals, and the both of you retrieve one empty barrel and several full ones. Bring them onto the main deck.” Castien ordered.
Finnick stood up and let out an exasperated sigh.
“One would think I was a page instead of a lord.”
Wren smiled. Castien paid him no mind. Instead, the prince pulled a rolled-up map out of a nearby barrel.
“Would you help me clear the desk, dearest?” he asked his wife.
Finnick looked at Lucianna as if she would commiserate with him. She raised a brow. He shook his head and left the room to complete his task.
Wren and Castien moved stacks of books and parchment over to the empty spaces on the captain’s sparse bookshelf. Then the prince spread out the map.
“As I said before we left Enlight, I do not know exactly where the orb is being kept, but I do have suspicions,” Castien began.
Lucianna walked to the edge of the desk. Atop it was a map of Grimhaven’s capital, Skarends. The contents of her stomach sloshed uncomfortably at the sight. She blinked away images of her mother’s calm, pale face resting atop a plush pillow in a golden casket.
“We will have to infiltrate the castle. Finn, Wren, and myself are well known amongst royalty and nobles. However, you are not,” Castien continued. “This allows you to move more freely, though marginally so.”
Lucianna nodded, her palms growing clammy. No one should know her, but she had been told she bore a stark resemblance to the picture in her locket. Her mother wouldn’t have been able to set foot on Grimhaven soil without an army descending.
Father, what have you sent me into?
She caught the princess’s gaze, who was watching her with concern. Was she revealing too much of her emotions in her expression? Lucianna drew a measured breath and attempted to relax.
“If all goes according to plan, the Grimhaven Games and all their festivities will be in full swing when we arrive. This means that the castle is taking in deliveries on a regular basis. Specifically, wine. King Claudius is known to go through carriage-loads of wine barrels. That is our way inside.” He touched the illustration of the marble castle.
“You will hide within a wine barrel. Petals will pose as a coachman and deliver you along with several other barrels right at dusk. You will have the evening for reconnaissance, then you must return to the section of empty wine barrels that Petals will retrieve the next day.”
“And if someone goes to retrieve wine, only to find me inside?” she questioned.
Castien shook his head.
“That will not happen. Petals will place you far away from the front line of barrels. Then he will leave you to do your work. From there, however, you will be on your own. If you are caught and cannot explain yourself, you will die.”
Lucianna nodded slowly, processing the information as it sank in.
Stow away in a wine barrel. Escape the cellar unseen. Find out the location of the orb. All without getting killed or worse—taken as a prisoner.
She’d better come to terms with death, because very soon she was going to be close enough to shake its hand.