Dreadful Enclosure
Chapter thirty-five
Finn dropped the wooden barrel he was holding onto the deck next to the other full ones. He eyed them all with trepidation.
“Do you truly mean to have her hide in one of these?” he asked Castien, who stood nearby, a journal in one hand and a quill in the other.
“Yes, it is necessary for the plan in place,” he replied plainly.
Finn frowned. They had discussed infiltrating Grimhaven earlier in the day, but Castien had focused on Finn’s part rather than the others.
He’d conduct his reconnaissance around the capital, but far away from the castle or nobility.
Guards would no doubt gather around mugs of ale and mulled wine to wind down from their day.
And Finn knew how to get people to talk and keep talking.
He would find out any details he could about the orb, while remaining hidden from nobility.
It was crucial that his identity not be uncovered, because once word spread that they were present, they wouldn’t move about the city unseen any longer.
And they’d also have to play politics while the rest of the crew did the bulk of the work.
“You know she lied to you about her Gift,” Finn said quietly, his gaze on the opening that led to the crew’s quarters. Lucianna disappeared down there not long ago to change. Her gown, though beautiful on her, was not practical for squeezing into tight spaces.
“Of course,” Castien said, not looking up from his notes. “I have never met someone whose Gift didn’t have a limit of some kind. Perhaps she is the first, but I doubt it.”
“She was terrified for much of the meeting,” Wren added from next to Cas. “I suspect she was afraid of being found out.”
“Let’s hope she’s not lying about more than her Gift and that she’s capable of performing the task at hand,” Castien replied.
“You do not care that she is a liar?” Finn asked his cousin.
“She’s not my wife,” he responded in a wry voice.
Finn scowled. “No, but she’s in your family. She will share your home, your dinner table, and more.”
“She lied because she doesn’t want us to know her weakness, Finnick,” Castien said with a hard tone. “Not because she means us any harm.”
“You are supposed to be the paranoid, protective one. I have spent the majority of our lives watching you overanalyze everyone who steps into your vicinity. Yet you accept this woman with barely a question, and now that deception presents itself, you say nothing?” Finn shook his head in disbelief.
“What if her lie sets off a chain of reactions that gets us hurt or killed?”
“If you think I don’t know about her merely because I told her as much, then you don’t know me as well as you purport, cousin,” Castien ground out. “But if you’d like to attempt interrogation, be my guest. I’m sure that will endear her to you all the more.”
“Castien,” Wren scolded in a whisper.
Lucianna emerged from below and silenced their argument.
She wore the same outfit she had on their first night on the ship.
A black top and corset, with matching trousers and her belt of blades.
She had pinned her hair up off her neck, and Finn suspected that the lock-picking hair pins were tucked inside.
“How long do you think you can stay inside before it hinders your mobility?” Castien asked as she approached.
Finn looked away as she studied them. He did not want to think of being trapped in a dark, enclosed space.
The remainder of their crew was scattered throughout the ship.
Cora was still camped out at her table of experiments.
Petals hovered nearby, pretending to stare out at the dregs of the sunset instead of the eccentric alchemist. Kelwin was perched at the furthest point of the forecastle, his eyeglass in hand like usual.
Kaiden stood near the wheel, but his focus was on the small leather journal he was writing in.
“An hour, I think,” Lucianna answered. “Any longer, and I’d lose feeling in some of my limbs, which would hinder my ability to move quickly.”
“All right. We will ensure that the delivery is quick.” Castien gestured to the barrel Finn had just sat down. “For now, let us be certain you can fit as you say.”
Lucianna nodded and swung a leg over the rim. It seemed impossible to Finn that she would be able to fold herself up small enough to fit in there, even more impossible that she’d be able to breathe once she had.
“In order to avoid suspicion, we will need to place barrels around and on top of yours. You should still be able to breathe, but it will require you to remain calm and not panic.”
“I will be fine. You may place barrels around me if you wish to test it.”
Finn crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his hands at the thought. He’d never been one for small spaces. But after the incident that occurred in the academy’s underground tunnels a few years prior, he associated enclosed spaces with blood and death.
“Make some kind of noise if you need out for any reason. We will retrieve you,” Castien said, and Finn couldn’t help the incredulous look that swept over his face.
He bit his tongue to not protest, then watched as Lucianna folded herself into the container. Castien dropped the heavy lid over her curled-up body. Finn’s stomach lurched as she disappeared from sight.
“Help me place this on top,” Castien said.
Finn did not move.
“Finn,” Castien prompted.
Though his limbs felt lined with lead, Finn forced himself to help his cousin. He dropped a full water barrel on top of his wife and felt his pulse jump.
Castien pushed more barrels so that they were nestled against the one she was in. Finn stood frozen nearby. Seconds felt like minutes, hours, days. How long had she been in there? Finn clenched and unclenched his fists.
Wren appeared to say something, to inquire of his well-being probably, but Finn couldn’t hear her. In fact, he couldn’t hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat mixed with the crashing waves.
What if they didn’t hear Lucianna when she was calling for help?
What if Castien was wrong and she couldn’t breathe in there?
What if she—stubborn woman she was—held out too long until her cries were too weak to be heard through the layers of wood?
What if he lost his wife before she was ever truly his?
“This is ridiculous!” The words burst out of Finn, earning him a look of surprise from Castien, who stood scribbling in his notebook nearby
“It’s important that we test everything, so that we’re—what are you doing?” Castien demanded.
Finn moved one of the barrels in his way.
“Finn, what is the matter with you?” Castien grabbed his arm and Finn yanked it away.
“Don’t touch me,” Finn growled, and heaved the barrel that was on top of Lucianna with one great surge of adrenaline. He tore the lid off.
Lucianna looked up from her curled position, a confused expression on her face.
She was so small, even smaller than she’d seemed to him in his shirt.
Finn reached in and grabbed her arm to pull her out.
She allowed him, though she did gasp in outrage when he grabbed ahold of her waist and lifted her out of the dreadful enclosure.
“What is going on?” Lucianna asked, pushing Finn’s hands away.
His gaze roved over her, assessing her for any sign of injury.
“I—I don’t know,” Castien replied. “Finn?”
He had lost his composure. Finn’s hands went into his hair.
“I need a moment alone,” he murmured, before stepping around his wife and heading toward the crew’s quarters.
But when he got to the entrance, he stopped. Suddenly the idea of being below deck was as appealing as jumping into the Tides with an anchor around his neck. He swallowed his building anxiety and looked around for somewhere, anywhere, he could be alone yet in the open air.
He looked up at the crow’s nest, crossed the deck to the shroud. And—ignoring the distressed calls of his friends—began to climb.