Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
The room is empty, and the door is ajar when I wake the next morning, feeling like a new person after a night of uninterrupted sleep.
My muscles ache as I stretch, arching backward and trying to straighten out the curve from sleeping curled up all night.
I hadn’t moved an inch from where I fell asleep, subconsciously afraid to brush against Weston in the night, but despite the soreness, I feel good.
I’m ready for a full day of fooling the Castaways into letting their guards down.
Sig and Stassia mentioned a job at dinner last night, so I expect I’ll learn all about that this morning.
Having a responsibility that signals I’m part of the crew doesn’t feel right.
I am a Voyager in my heart, and I always will be.
There’s nothing anyone here can say or do to convince me otherwise.
I slide out of bed and Weston’s shirt brushes against my thighs. For once, I am thankful he is so much larger than me, and I’ll never admit that the shirt is actually comfortable. Scanning the floor, I realize the clothes I left there last night are missing.
Is Weston messing with me? Did he do this on purpose? I can’t wear only his shirt all day, and I can’t even leave the room to go yell at him about it.
I scan the room, looking all over the floor and on the furniture, hoping my pants are folded somewhere else, when a squeak from Weston’s side of the bed catches my attention.
The door of the armoire slowly opens on its own, the hinges responsible for the noise.
I walk over and peer inside. A new stack of clothes sits on the bottom shelf, identical to the ones Sig brought me yesterday.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the island, and grab the clothes, happy to escape from Weston’s scent following me everywhere. Falling asleep immersed in it was enough for the day.
“You awake?” Sig’s voice calls into the room as the crack in the doorway widens.
“Yes,” I say as I finish tucking my clean shirt into the waistband of the pants.
“Great, follow me.”
Shit.
It is the first time I’m alone in this room, and she gave me no time to look around. I eye the desk from where I stand, the rolls of parchment calling to me. I doubt Weston would even notice if I moved anything, but with Sig waiting for me, I will have to try at another time.
“Coming,” I call, quickly lacing up my boots and striding toward the door to find Sig standing just before the steps that lead to the deck.
“Sleep well?” she asks, eyes trailing over my face.
“Sure,” I say, refusing to give her any more than that.
We climb the stairs and step onto deck, the warmth from the suns enveloping me quickly, but the hint of a cool breeze comes off the water.
Castaways are already milling about, everyone seemingly busy with their tasks for the day.
I look around for Stassia and Auralie, but don’t see them amongst the rest of the crew.
Laughter breaks out above us, and I look up to find Weston leaning on the quarterdeck railing, smiling with a bunch of the boys around him. One of them is telling a story, acting something out, and Weston throws his head back, grinning as a boisterous laugh erupts from his lips.
“Looks like someone got some good sleep,” Sig says as she watches the scene above us. “Finally.”
I ignore her comments and turn my back to them, facing the front of the ship. The vision of Weston grinning and laughing and the muscular column of his neck is the last image I need playing through my mind all day.
“You said I have an assignment?” I say, not doing anything to hide the scowl on my face.
“Yes,” she answers. “Everyone in the crew has an assignment to be done daily. Captain assigns the tasks, but if you have a problem, you can talk to me about it and I will bring it to him.” She strides over to a stack of supplies sitting on the deck and reaches down, grabbing the rope of a wooden bucket.
“You,” she stops in front of me, extending her arm as the bucket dangles, “get to scrub the deck.”
My fingers grasp the rope handle, and my teeth hurt from clenching my jaw. Looking around the ship, I realize at this moment how truly large the deck is. I’m expected to scrub this entire thing by myself? I peer inside the bucket, empty except for a handheld scrub brush.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I say and meet her gaze again. She doesn’t look like she is kidding at all, and ignores my statement.
“Water and soap are in the bathroom on the second level, so you’ll need to make trips up and down to fill the bucket and switch out the water. Don’t slosh too much water on the steps. Cap will get pissed if someone slips.”
“I’m supposed to do this every day? Just scrub around everyone?” I ask, seething.
It’s not the fact that I have a job that is upsetting me. I may be a princess, but I’m no stranger to hard work. Just ask Brynne. It’s the manner of the work that is making my blood boil.
He expects me to be on my hands and knees, scrubbing this deck every day while everyone in the crew watches, undoubtedly treating me like a spectacle.
Fuck him.
Sig winces slightly. “Cap said to tell you it is your ‘punishment for the starvation stunt.’ His words, not mine.”
“He wasn’t man enough to tell me that himself?” I snap back.
Her head bobs in a slow nod. “I will tell him that was your response.”
I groan loudly. “Being forced to sleep in his room isn’t punishment enough?”
“There are probably a lot of women out there who would not consider that a punishment.”
“Well, I’m not ‘a lot of women,’” I say. I let the bucket dangle at my side and look out over the water, the waves rolling in, giving me a small sense of calm. It isn’t Sig’s fault. She’s just the messenger for the cowardly captain who apparently only wants to deal with me behind closed doors.
“Does every new Castaway need to be supervised, or am I just the lucky one?”
“Nope. Just you.” She smiles sweetly, but gives no further explanation.
I roll my eyes and fish the brush from the bottom of the bucket. “Well then, I better get started.”
Spinning on my heel, I head toward the stairs.
Something moves in the corner of my eye, and I glance up toward the quarterdeck to find Weston, elbows resting on the railing and hands clasped out in front of it, watching me.
A ghost of a smile sits on his lips, and I glare back at him, before picking up the bucket and disappearing into the ship below.
My knees dig into the hard wooden deck as I sit back on my heels.
My lower back feels like it is on fire, and pain shoots up my spine as I dig my fingers into the muscle at the base.
I have been scrubbing the deck all morning, dodging the feet of the Castaways coming and going, and as I look around I loose a ragged sigh.
I am barely halfway done. My body aches and my back is screaming.
I don’t even want to look at the skin on my palm.
My hair is a sweaty mess, the moisture in the air doing nothing but making my waves knot as I fling them out of my way while I work.
I would kill to have something to tie it back out of my face.
But I don’t want Weston to see the pain I’m in. I won’t let him think this is breaking me. Instead, I will take a few breaths, then get back to work.
Relief washes over me when I hear a cheerful voice call out behind me. I drop my head back and smile at the sky, before turning to find a joyous face smiling back at me.
“Hi Lennox!” Fin says as he skips across the deck, straight toward me.
Shifting my body, I slide my feet out from under me and lower myself onto the deck. The muscles in my legs pull and my knees ache as I stretch them out in front of me.
That’s it. Time for a break.
“Hey Fin,” I say. “How’s your day going?”
“Great! I’ve been hiding from mister Weston, and he has to come find me. I get to see all kinds of things on the ship. He found me real fast last time, though.”
Fin is playing with Weston? The thought of him doing anything for fun, let alone playing with a child, doesn’t line up with everything I know about him. Maybe Fin is mistaken and there’s another reason he’s sending him off into the ship.
“That’s alright,” I say. “I’m sure you can find a really good hiding place next time.”
“Can you play with me soon?” he says, excitement and hope etched across his face.
“I don’t think I can today. I still have a lot of work to do.”
He looks at the bucket beside me, then around at the deck.
“Yeah. Ryum is real happy he doesn’t have to scrub the deck anymore now that it’s your job. He used to use a mop, though. How come you’re doing it with your hands?” Fin cocks his head to the side as he waits for my answer.
I clench my teeth, my jaw popping with the pressure.
I was right. That asshole is doing this on purpose, humiliating me in front of the rest of the crew, and trying to literally keep me down and bend me to his will.
I clear my throat so Fin doesn’t detect the hatred in my voice. “The captain didn’t give me a mop, he only gave me this.” I raise the brush so he can see it.
“Oh, okay. Wanna see me do my job?”
His rapid change in conversation helps soothe my anger in the moment, although I will not forget it. I’ll need to hold on to it, and use it as fuel to get me through my time here and keep moving me forward to my goal.
Fin doesn’t need to see it.
“Sure,” I say, and he smiles a toothy grin.
“It’s really fun, and mister Weston says it’s a super important job.”
He runs to the mainmast and wraps his arms around it, his small body shimmying up the pole and scaling it. I jump up off the floor and yell, remembering my warning from Sig on the ship tour.
“Fin, no! What are you doing?” I scamper over, pain flaring in my legs as I run, and hold my hands aloft, trying to be there if he falls.
“It’s okay, Lennox! Jorn taught me! He says I’m a real good climber!”