Cold Resignation
Chapter forty-seven
A marrow-deep chill had sunk its talons into Lucianna.
She trembled from her hiding spot in the crow’s nest. The sky had cloaked itself in indigo and starlight hours ago, but she couldn’t bring herself to climb down.
As soon as she did, she’d be forced to face the consequences of her words and actions.
Whether it was Finnick or Wren, or, by proxy, Castien.
Almost half the ship hated her, and she wouldn’t be surprised if they poisoned the opinion of the rest.
The sound of someone climbing the shroud made her heart jump. She peered over the edge with dry, puffy eyes. It was the captain, ascending with a lantern clipped to his belt. Lucianna backed up to give him space to enter.
“Need to check the sails,” he grunted upon swinging himself into the basket. “Shouldn’t be long.”
Lucianna nodded, though she wasn’t sure he saw her, as he was already studying the rigging.
“H-has everyone gone to bed?” she asked, her teeth chattering.
Kaiden’s gaze cut to her, then back to his work.
“Yes, except myself and Kelwin. He should retire soon enough.”
Lucianna nodded again and rubbed her freezing, wind-chapped arms. Chill bumps tickled her palms, making her shiver.
“Did he hurt you?” Kaiden’s question was simple but sharp as the knife hanging from his belt.
“No,” Lucianna murmured. “I hurt him.”
Shame broke through the chill and burned her face.
Lucianna had told Finnick the truth, but that didn’t mean she was unaware of the pain it would cause.
If she could change it, she would. At least .
. . she thought so. It was difficult to imagine their situation any other way than what it was.
If she could get rid of his charm, would he remain himself?
These were the sorts of questions that had plagued her as she stared out at the dark horizon.
“How long have you been married?”
Lucianna’s eyes widened at the captain’s willingness for conversation. She cleared her throat.
“Our wedding took place a few days before we boarded your ship,” she replied. “It was arranged.”
A low rumble of acknowledgement came from Kaiden’s chest.
“Neither of us wanted to be married, and we had never met each other until the week we were to be wed,” Lucianna continued. “We have fought nearly every day in some capacity since.” She shook her head. “Though this was the worst of them.”
Kaiden nodded, the silver in his black beard catching the light as he did.
“I could tell as much when he came down from here. Only time I saw him that upset was when the prince stuffed you in the barrel.”
Lucianna looked down, her throat tight.
“We are incompatible,” she whispered into the still night air. “I fear our fathers doomed us to a lifetime of unhappiness, if we survive this mission.”
The captain fiddled with a section of rope, but Lucianna got the impression that he was finished with his work. Her heart warmed ever so slightly at the idea that he was lingering for her sake.
“You are resigned to such a fate?”
Lucianna’s brow puckered.
“I do not have another choice. I have made my vow, and I will not go back on it. The only escape is by the hand of death.”
Kaiden shook his head.
“There is always another choice, Lady Lucianna. That is what people often forget, or perhaps they remain ignorant on purpose. It is easier to pretend one has no other options than to choose from the ones they have.”
“You do not know our situation,” Lucianna replied.
The captain sighed and turned to face her. His visage was cast half in lamplight, half in moonlight as he gazed at her with unnerving calm.
“I do not need to. Outside of abuse, one chooses the marriage they wish to have.”
Lucianna shook her head. Anger burst through her chest and out of her mouth.
“Did you choose to have a wife who does not speak to you?”
Kaiden did not jump to respond. Nor did his gaze leave Lucianna’s face. Guilt crept up her spine.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was cruel,” she murmured.
“There are two people in a marriage,” Kaiden said with a solemn air. “My wife made her choice, and I hope every day she will change her mind.”
“I appreciate you speaking to me, and I apologize again for lashing out at you.” Lucianna shivered as a chill racked her body. “But either you don’t understand or I don’t, because I’m afraid we do not see eye to eye on the matter.”
The barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Kaiden’s ever-present scowl.
“You’re very honest for a thief.”
A short laugh escaped Lucianna.
“And you talk a lot for a recluse.”
Her words were rewarded with another twitch of his lips before they settled into a deep frown once more.
“You should get down from here. To be Tidesick on a ship . . . I do not recommend it.”
Lucianna glanced down at the deck below.
Kelwin stood near the wheel, lantern in hand.
No one else moved about the ship. But they would be in the crew’s quarters.
She would have to share a bed with her husband as she had every night after the first. Her stomach twisted at the thought.
A part of her thought Tidesickness would not be so bad by comparison.
Then she considered the way that the illness sapped your strength and made your throat tender.
Lucianna could not afford to be without her Gift and her ability to defend herself.
“All right,” she rasped. “I will retire.”
The captain dipped his chin.
“Sleep well, for we come upon Splinter Point soon. And once we do, rest will be a thing of the past.”
Lucianna swallowed hard.
“What’s it like?” She whispered the fearful question.
Kaiden took on a hollow, haunted expression.
“It is a dark, waking nightmare. The waters seek to drown you at every opportunity, and the monsters that lurk in the deep have no souls, only a predatory desire to devour all that crosses their path.” He blinked a few times, as if coming back to consciousness.
“But it can be survived, with careful sailing and fierce endurance in battle.”
Lucianna wanted to ask about Maralyn, but after her outburst about his wife, it felt wrong of her. She had bothered the gruff captain enough this evening.
“Very well.” She drew a trembling breath. “Then I shall rest as you suggested. For strength and a sound mind will be of value.”
Another somber nod was bestowed upon her. She returned it, then set to climbing down the shroud with aching, stiff muscles.
Kelwin waved to her from the wheel, and she lifted a hand in response.
Splinter Point may be a place of nightmares, but Lucianna felt as though she was already living in one.
Though the captain thought otherwise, she saw no way out.
She simply would spend the remainder of her life—however short it might end up being—sharing a bed with a husband whom she could not trust.
Lucianna walked down the stairs to the crew’s quarters in the dark.
She knew the ship well enough to not need a lantern.
And to carry one would only illuminate her tear-streaked face for her equally upset husband.
Perhaps he would be asleep, and she would get to crawl into bed unnoticed.
Another chill rattled Lucianna. Her discomfort at sharing a bed with Finnick after their argument was almost outweighed by the thought of the warmth his presence would bring.
She had been foolish to stay up there so long.
The cabin was dark and quiet upon Lucianna’s entrance.
There was only the sound of waves and the gentle creak of the hammocks rocking.
Her anxieties calmed some at the familiarity.
She slipped off her shoes at the end of the bed, pausing to frown when she did not see Finnick’s boots.
Her gaze lifted. Moonlight poured in from the porthole, illuminating their bed.
Empty. It was empty.
Lucianna spun around. She squinted in the darkness.
Counted the occupied hammocks. One for Cora, two for Petals .
. . her heart sank. Three. There were three hammocks occupied, yet Kelwin and Kaiden were both above deck.
She turned back to the pallet. It was then she noticed that none of Finnick’s belongings remained.
Not his boots, nor his scabbard which he typically laid on the crate nearest his side of the bed.
She sank to her knees on the edge of the pallet and fought back a sob.
Foolish, pathetic girl, her mind snarled. What did you expect?
Silent tears streamed down Lucianna’s face as she crawled beneath the quilt fully clothed.
An unbearable ache prodded at her chest. She had done this to herself.
It was what she wanted from the beginning.
Distance. Space to breathe. But he’d seemed so opposed to the idea of sleeping apart when she presented it that night after playing Tidesmark.
Lucianna realized that deep down, she thought nothing would truly change between them.
She had lashed out because when she’d done so before, Finnick had fought back, then retreated and resumed his nature.
Each time she jumped—just like when they were up in the sails—he’d been there to catch her with smiles and incorrigible teasing.
But she had pushed him too far, had tested her luck one too many times.
Certainly, she hadn’t wanted to face Finnick, but there was peace in believing he’d be there waiting for her.
She hated to admit it to herself, but he had become a safe place on this ship.
The one person who saw through her and yet remained.
As was her tendency, she’d relied on a pattern, and it failed her.
She had not thought herself stupid until that very moment.
Why should she have thought he would stay, when she hurt him so?
Lucianna curled up in a ball and drew the covers closer. Tears soaked into her pillow and hair. No matter how much she tucked herself in, she couldn’t get warm.
Perhaps she would never be warm again.