Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
HOOK
The tears in her eyes catch the faint glow of the light she’s holding, glinting like tiny stars. One escapes, tracing down her cheek, and I wipe it away before I can think better of it. She doesn’t pull back, and for a moment, everything narrows to just us—her warmth, her light, her Alice.
I’ve seen people wield power before, raw and untamed, like they want to burn the world down just to prove they can.
But this? This is something else. It’s alive, steady, almost gentle.
Watching her feel it for the first time is enough to make me forget we’re stuck in this godforsaken oubliette with no way out.
"Better now?" I ask.
She nods, her breath trembles as she exhales. The ball of light between her hands steadies again, glowing warm and bright.
"Good." I step back—not too far, though. Just enough to let her hold the light on her own and really know this is all on her. "You did that, princess. All of it. No one else."
Her gaze flicks to mine. For a second, I think she’s about to tell me off again, but instead, her mouth quirks into a smile. "Stop calling me princess," she says, but there's none of her usual irritation in her tone, none of that, I'm ready to kill you edge. "I did do it."
The light in her hands grows stronger, chasing away more of the shadows. It gives me a proper look at where we are—stone, damp, cold. No hidden doors, no trapdoors, no escape. Just us in the dark. Yet somehow, with her here, it doesn’t feel as suffocating as it should.
It doesn’t feel like the last time.
I drag a hand over the back of my neck, pushing away the memories clawing at the edges of my mind. I don’t need to see those. I don’t need to remember how similar this place is to where I was thrown when I was eleven and alone.
It’s the same, but it’s different.
“Hook?”
Her voice pulls me back. I meet her eyes, and the concern there sends a pang through me.
“Yeah?”
“What do we do now?” she asks. There’s something in her voice—vulnerability, hesitation—that hits harder than it should.
I force a small smile, even though I don’t feel it. “Well, first, we don’t panic.”
She raises a brow. “And second?”
I glance around at the unrelenting walls. “I don’t have a fucking clue.”
The walls are packed with mud—the dense, stubborn kind that sticks to your nails if you press too hard, but no amount of clawing will get us anywhere.
It’s like clay, solid and unyielding. I dig a finger into the cold surface, testing it, but it’s pointless.
We’d need years to claw our way out of here, and that’s if we didn’t die first.
“Well, we’re not digging our way out,” I say, pulling my hand back. “We’d be dead long before we hit the surface, fingers stripped to the bone like everything else this place devours.”
Alice steps closer, bringing her light with her. She cradles it in both hands, the faint golden glow casting soft shadows on her face.
“You can make that hover, you know,” I tell her, glancing at the light. “You don’t have to hold it.”
She raises a brow. “How do I do that?”
“You tell it,” I say, shrugging like it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Her lips purse, sceptical, but the light flickers slightly, like it’s listening.
And damn if I’m not curious to see what she’ll do next.
She focuses on the light . Her brows knit together, and I can see the gears turning in that infuriating, brilliant head of hers.
“Okay,” she mutters, her voice low, almost like she’s talking to herself.
“Hover. Float. Do… whatever magic lights are supposed to do.”
For a moment, nothing happens and even I hold my breath.
Then, slowly, the light lifts from her palms, hovering in the space between us.
It wavers slightly, like it’s testing its own boundaries, before steadying.
The glow softens, warm and steady, and I can’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth.
“See? Not so hard." I go to the break in the wall where the bars are we’d found. It’s not a gate. It’s nothing more than bars wedged into the earth. I run my hands over the metal again, feeling it, trying to peer beyond into the dark. It’s just more shadows, stretching endlessly.
Alice steps up beside me. “What is the point of this?”
“These places are all about torture,” I say.
“Not physical—mental. That’s what this is.
Alone in the dark, feeling around, making you think you’ve found a gate, a way out.
” I shake my head, jaw tight. The things in my memory want to claw their way to the surface, to remind me.
But I’m not that kid anymore. I’m not there, at my uncle’s mercy.
There’s no one to hit me, no one to blame me.
My grip tightens around one of the bars, knuckles white. I don’t even notice until I feel the cold of the metal biting into my palm.
“Why would someone do that?” Alice asks, her voice low.
I don’t look at her when I answer. “Because people are cruel.”
Her light flickers, casting jagged shadows on the bars so we can see them properly now—no lock, no handle. Nothing to suggest they should ever open.
I pull out my knife and work at the base where the bars dig into the earth. The mud crumbles easily, flaking away in thick clumps.
She crouches beside me, the light in her hands flickering as she steadies it. “Do you really think we’ll find anything?”
“No,” I admit, not pausing. “But it’s better than doing nothing.”
Alice leans in closer, her light casting faint shadows over the exposed metal. “Do you think it goes the whole way around?”
“You mean, do I think we’re inside a barred, buried ball?” I glance at her, my voice flat. “Yes.”
I shift a few feet along the wall, testing another section.
My blade slips easily into the packed earth, the mud giving way just as quickly as before.
But it’s the same—more bars beneath, unbroken and endless.
I trace the metal with my fingers, pick at different parts of the wall, but it’s futile.
I’m not even hoping anymore. I’m just proving to myself that it’s exactly what I think it is: a perfect cage, designed to crush any spark of hope.
“Whoever built this wasn’t planning on giving anyone a way out,” I say, my voice low, almost bitter. I tap the blade against the bars, the metallic clang echoing faintly in the cramped space. “This isn’t just a prison—it’s a grave.”
Alice’s light flares brighter at my words, catching the hard set of her jaw as she stares at the exposed metal. She doesn’t say anything, but her silence is louder than any reply.
After several more fruitless attempts to pry something—anything—useful from the bars, I slump back against the wall, letting out a breath.
My knife spins absently between my fingers.
Alice follows my lead, lowering herself to the ground beside me.
She sits cross-legged, her light flickering faintly, dimming for a moment before steadying itself again.
She holds her hand out in front of her, studying the glow with a faint furrow in her brow.
“You’re getting better at that,” I say, nodding toward the light.
She glances at me, then back at the ball of light. “It feels… weird. Like it’s alive. But not. Like it’s part of me, but also separate.”
I nod, resting the knife on my thigh. “Magic feels that way. Like a wild animal, waiting for you to decide whether to tame it or let it loose.”
Her shoulders slump slightly, and she pulls her knees up, resting her chin on them. She lowers her hand, placing the glowing ball gently on the ground in front of us. Its soft glow bathes her face in light, making the tightness in her expression more obvious.
Her shoulders slump slightly, and she pulls her knees up, resting her chin on them. She lowers her hand, placing the glowing ball gently on the ground in front of us. Its soft glow bathes her face in light, making the tightness in her expression more obvious.
“What did you mean before,” she asks quietly, not looking at me, “when you said you were in one of these before, but didn’t get out? You must have. Or you wouldn’t be here.”
I tighten my grip on the knife, spinning it absently between my fingers. Her question lingers, sharp and direct, and I’m not sure how to answer. The bars glint faintly in her light, taunting me with their permanence.
In the end, I shrug, forcing a smirk onto my face.
“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.” I tilt my head, trying to shift the focus off me.
“Look at you, for example. Little Miss ‘Magic Doesn’t Exist,’ holding a glowing ball of light like it’s nothing.
If I told the Alice I met yesterday this would happen, she’d have laughed in my face. ”
She narrows her eyes, clearly not buying my deflection, but thankfully, she doesn’t push.
After a beat, I reach into my jacket and pull out a folded bundle of cloth. Without a word, I offer it to Alice.
She hesitates before taking it, her fingers brushing mine as she does. Slowly, she peels back the first layer of cloth and frowns. “You took food from the inn? When did you get this?”
I pull another bundle from my pocket, unwrapping a chunk of bread for myself. “A pirate never reveals his secrets,” I say, biting into the bread.
We sit in comfortable silence, the light glowing between us, the faint sound of our chewing the only thing filling the air. But it doesn’t last long. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Alice’s gaze flick to my shoulder.
“You’re favouring your left side,” she says, her tone matter-of-fact, though her expression tells a different story.
“It’s nothing,” I say, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. “I’ve had worse.”
Her brows draw together, but she doesn’t say anything yet.
“I’m used to aches and pains. It’s all part of what I do. Sailing my ship, being at sea—pain and injury come with it.”
“Take off your jacket,” she says, her voice firm, like she’s already decided this is happening.
I narrow my eyes at her. “A little bossy, aren’t you, princess?”
“Hook.” Her tone softens slightly, but there’s no room for argument. “Let me look.”
With a reluctant sigh, I shrug out of the jacket, wincing as the movement pulls at my shoulder. The dim light catches the torn fabric of my shirt, and her sharp intake of breath tells me what I already know—it looks bad.
“Bloody hell,” she mutters, leaning closer. “You didn’t think to mention your injury from had come open?”
Her hand hovers over the wound, and I can see the flicker of hesitation in her eyes before she tears off a piece of the cloth bundle I gave her.
“Hold still,” she says.
“It’s been bleeding,” I reply as she dabs at the wound. I hiss through my teeth as the pressure stings, but I don’t move. She works quietly, her touch gentle, and the light of her magic casts a soft glow over her face.
“It’s red,” she says after a moment, her voice quieter now. “It’s starting to look infected.”
I glance at her, and for a moment, there’s something in her expression—guilt, maybe, or worry.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, trying to brush it off. “Takes more than an arrow in the shoulder to put me down.”
“Your idea of fine is clearly skewed.” She pauses, her gaze shifting from the wound to her hands.
“What?” I ask, watching the way her lips press together like she’s working something out.
“Can… can magic fix this?” she asks hesitantly, glancing up at me.
“Magic can do a lot of things, love.”
“I barely know how to hold a light. How am I supposed to heal someone?”
“The same way you made the light, love. You let it in. You stop doubting yourself long enough to believe it can actually work.”
She stares at me, her hands trembling slightly as she looks back at the wound. “And if this doesn’t work?” she whispers.
“Then I’ll still be here, just as charming as ever,” I say with a grin, though the edge of pain in my voice betrays me.
Her lips twitch again, but this time there’s no humour in it. She lifts her hands over my shoulder, and the warmth of her fingers radiates through me. I can feel the sharp focus in her movements, the way she’s holding her breath as if afraid to break the moment.
“Alright,” she murmurs. “Let’s see if this works.”