Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Weston and I avoid each other like the moon and the suns, hovering in the same general vicinity but not interacting at all.
He even started avoiding our room, coming in only when I was already asleep and leaving before I wake.
The rumpled sheets on his side of the bed are the only indication he even came into the room at all.
I don’t want to talk to him. I’m afraid of what I might say if I do. Even though I understand his motives, he still lied to me. His lie was different than Dane’s and so much less severe, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t still cut me, especially after everything else that happened.
I push away thoughts of his lips crashing to mine, of him pulling me flush against him, of his skin hot on mine as he clutched me in his sleep, all things that blew apart whatever balancing act was going on between us. My chest aches when I think about what came next.
It will never happen again.
I don’t know which feels worse, Dane’s murder and betrayal, or Weston destroying the friendship that was slowly growing between us, making me question every interaction I’ve had with the crew I thought were my friends.
But beyond the hurt and anger, I know deep down I might actually miss him.
The part of me who is angry that my life was shut away in a castle, that I had to live under constant protection and could not decide for myself, rages at him for trying to do the same thing here, especially after getting a taste of freedom on the island.
But the other part of me can’t let go of the suspicion that there might be more to it than just his duty, no matter what he says.
I know a thing or two about duty and responsibility, but I don’t want him to do it any longer. We aren’t in Blackwood, and he isn’t my guard. He has no responsibility for me more than that of the captain of this crew, especially now if he doesn’t even want to be my friend.
The quiet, monotonous task of mopping the deck doesn’t allow for any sort of distraction from all these warring thoughts and feelings.
I huff a sigh and yank my shirt away from where it is stuck to my skin.
The humidity accompanying the gloomy skies is much worse than a normal day, making everything still and sticky, and I’d do anything for a cool breeze off the water.
Dropping the mop into the sudsy bucket, I stride over to the mainmast, and slide my back down until I’m sitting, gazing out over the deck and everyone who is out this morning.
Auralie and Fern sit off to the side mending a sail as Fin pulls the other side of it over stacks of crates and barrels, making his own castle.
Veck carries crates down below, a large stack of them having appeared overnight full of supplies.
I raise a glass bottle I stored in the shade to my lips and savor the cool water as my only source of reprieve in this greenhouse.
My shoulders sag with a moment of distraction and calm as I watch everyone around me work, but it only lasts a moment before Weston steps out from below deck, and strides over to where Veck is cataloging items in the crates.
My mood instantly turns sour and I’m ready to get moving again, so I don’t have to look at him. I set my bottle back down in the shade and stand before I’m startled by a voice from up above.
“Break over already?”
Shading my eyes against the brightness reflecting off the cloud cover, I look up at the first rung to find Jorn, tying knots in a thick rope as he lounges against the beams.
“Hey Jorn,” I say, my voice coming out more sullenly than I intend.
“What’s got you down, Little Lennox?”
An unintentional laugh erupts at his nickname. I’ve never heard it before, but it’s very fitting coming from him. His long, lanky limbs are perfect for climbing the mast, but make me look like a child in comparison.
“Nothing,” I say, gesturing over my shoulder. “Just need to get back to work.”
“Still mad at the captain, I take it.” The lilt in his voice tells me Sig filled him in on what happened, especially with how little we’ve been near each other. How much he knows, though, is still a mystery, and I don’t feel like explaining right now.
“I don’t think I will ever not be mad at the captain,” I say with a huff, fighting the urge to glance over my shoulder and sneak a glimpse of him.
“Because he’s an asshole,” Jorn says as he drops onto the deck beside me.
“Exactly. See, Jorn, you understand.” I shoot him a sweet and knowing smile.
Jorn lets out a loud laugh, and I feel eyes on my back.
Don’t look, Lennox. He doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing you feel him watching.
“An asshole he may be, but he’s such a kind asshole.” Jorn shoots me a dazzling smile and I can’t help but return it. “You know, if it weren’t for our lovely captain over there, I probably would have died twenty times already.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “That sounds more like a you problem than anything he’s done.”
He shrugs. “Probably. But he still cares enough to save me over and over again.”
I eye him warily. “Why don’t you just stop doing stupid shit, then?” My mind drifts back to the Oasis, a situation that easily could have been avoided if Jorn hadn’t been so competitive.
“That makes life less fun,” he says with a grin. “Besides, isn’t it nice knowing there’s someone who cares?”
My stomach sinks. For twenty-one years, all I’ve ever truly wanted is to feel like someone cares more than just out of obligation.
I thought I found that in Dane, but it turns out I can’t trust anything he says.
Just when I think Weston may be someone I can trust, who cares about me for me, not for me the princess, I find out he’s just like everyone else in my life, following my father’s orders and doing their duty to protect me.
There may be some slight connection toward me like Edmond, Tila, and Brynne, but in the end, our relationship stems from duty.
Weston may not be my guard, but his position makes him the commander of them all. My protection falls under him, and while there’s no one else around, no Brynne, no second guard, he views it as his personal responsibility.
He doesn’t care, not like what Jorn is talking about, not like he cares about Jorn or Sig or anyone else on this ship.
Suddenly, I get an idea.
“Jorn?” I ask.
“Yes, Little Lennox?”
“Can you teach me to climb the mast?”
His grin grows impossibly wider as he rubs his hands together conspiratorially.
“You up for a little risk?” he says.
“No,” I answer. “I’m up for a little fun.”
And if there’s some risk, I know it will piss Weston off. Even better.
“I like that answer,” he says, and his eyes slide up and down me, assessing. “Do you have a belt?”
Glancing down at my pants, I shake my head. I’ve always carried my dagger in my waistband, and preferred my bow over carrying a sword, so the island never gave me one. We don’t need weapons to climb, so I don’t know what Jorn wants it for, but I know exactly where I can look.
“Give me two minutes,” I say and turn on my heel, heading straight for the stairs. I trudge past Weston and Veck, keeping my gaze forward as I disappear into the darkness below and head to our room.
The hinges of the trunk at the foot of the bed squeak as I lift the lid, the scent of leather mixed with Weston overwhelming my senses.
Weston’s things are piled inside of it, and I start digging around, searching for something I hope is hiding.
Shifting the items aside, I feel around until my fingers brush a thick, familiar fabric.
I pull it out from under the collection of his things to find a cloak, almost exactly the same as mine from home, the one that is still sitting in my bunk back at camp.
I push away the other items, trying to reach where the cloak was hidden at the bottom. My breath hitches when I see it, the clothing that is so familiar, yet feels like I haven’t seen it in a lifetime.
His guard’s uniform.
It’s exactly like the one Brynne still wears beneath her armor, and something in me settles, knowing he wasn’t lying about this too.
The proof is right here beneath my fingertips; another connection he has to Blackwood.
I shift it to the side, and my eyes fall on a dark stain, before they start to well with tears.
Pulling the thick shirt out from under the pile of clothing, I see the slash through the front, the stain from Weston’s blood darkening it.
Sig didn’t lie either, the evidence of Dane’s violence is right here beneath my fingers.
Weston almost died, and the reality of what that would have meant for everyone in the crew is something I don’t want to consider.
Blinking away the moisture in my eyes, I focus back on the trunk.
I feel around, but there is only the uniform, no armor that would have protected him against such a vicious attack, and now I understand why Dane was able to injure him so badly.
I push the uniform to the side, hoping what I’m looking for is beneath it.
It has to be in here.
When my fingers brush the worn leather, the corners of my lips lift in a smirk. I pull Weston’s guard belt out of the trunk and wrap it around my hips, cinching it tightly. It’s exactly like the ones I’ve trained with for years, and it feels comfortable and reassuring.
I also know it will irritate him when he sees me wearing it, and I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he notices. I want him to know I found it and took it, claiming something that signifies what he’s been hiding from me for so long as mine.
I slam the trunk closed and head back to the deck, walking straight to Jorn, waiting for me at the mast.