Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“He’s almost ready to come out.”
Sig and I spend the next afternoon on deck, watching Fin and Jorn play on the mast. She offered to practice disarming with the dagger, since I haven’t really practiced any more after Weston taught me.
“Really? It’s barely been a day,” I say, as I grab her wrist and wrench it down.
My movements are more fluid, and I fumble with the blade less often than when we started.
Sig’s hands are almost the same size as mine, though, and I worry about being able to do it in an actual fight on someone larger than me.
Like Weston.
Sig holds her hand out for the dagger, and I place it on her palm. “He hasn’t given us any trouble. It seems like he understands everything, especially after Jorn talked to him.”
“They knew each other from before?”
She nods. “I think it goes back farther than on Dawnlin. Jorn hasn’t really said, but they are from the same kingdom.”
It took me by surprise when Jorn greeted Taril so comfortably, like he had been waiting for his arrival. None of the Castaways really talk about the Voyagers that are back at camp, so it is hard to know who was around at the same time.
“Are they actually brothers?” I ask, remembering what Jorn said to Taril down on the beach.
“No,” Sig says. “But maybe friends. I was waiting for him to tell me. Now that Taril is here, I’m sure he will.”
I flip the dagger at her, that attempt the smoothest so far, and she gives me a nod of approval.
“Do you think I could talk to him? Before he comes out?” I ask.
There’s a lot I want to know from Taril, especially with what we’ve seen of the Voyagers since I left. After everything I’ve learned about Dane, I still feel like I need closure. I don’t know if Taril can give that to me, but I hope I can get something.
I’m also worried. I know what I thought when I was captured and brought here, and I know what my plans were. Now that I know these people and care about them, I don’t want anyone to hurt them. I need to know for myself that he isn’t plotting anything harmful.
“It’s not me you have to ask,” she says, tilting her head toward the quarterdeck, where Weston sits with a group of the crew who already finished their tasks for the day.
I slide my dagger into the sheathe at my back and she plops down on the floor, leaning against the wooden pillar.
I climb the wooden stairs up to the quarterdeck and feel Weston’s focus catch on me the second I am in view.
He watches as I take a step toward the rail and gesture over my shoulder, away from the group.
“Captain? Can I talk to you?” His brows draw together as he pushes to stand and leads me to the opposite side of the quarterdeck, near the other set of stairs.
“What do you need, princess?”
My stomach tumbles at his tone, not at all annoyed or bothered that I interrupted him, but helpful and sincere.
We haven’t talked since last night, since his admission in the portal, and it feels different now that I’ve decided to give him some grace.
I want to be friends again, and I am nervous that he doesn’t feel the same way.
“I wanted permission to talk to Taril,” I say.
He crosses his arms and leans back on the rail, quirking his head to the side. I try to stay focused on his face, but the rippling muscles in his forearms beg for attention.
“You’re asking permission? That does not seem like you, princess.”
“Would you rather me just go down to the brig and talk to him without you knowing?”
Trying to accept his protective nature is going to take getting used to, but just because I’m trying doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with him about it.
His eyes narrow slightly. “Why do you need to talk to him now, and not when he comes out?”
“I just,” I pause, trying to make sure I find the right words that won’t make him jump to his favorite word, ‘no.’ “I want to make sure he’s alright, but coming around this quickly is suspicious.
I want to make sure he isn’t faking it. I’m intimately familiar with the poison Dane spewed, and how it can affect someone when they come here. ”
He stares, his eyes boring into mine, and I don’t know which part of what I said caused him to react. I shift on my feet, waiting for an answer.
“Are you telling me you were faking your behavior?” His jaw is tight, the earnestness from a few moments ago gone.
Oh no.
We’d never talked about anything from before, and I just slowly changed after spending time with the Castaways, but now that I just admitted to him what I had been doing, I’m worried this will start yet another argument.
“Maybe,” I mumble, and look away.
“Are you faking now?”
“No,” I say firmly, with a shake of my head. I meet his stare again, hoping he can see that I’m telling the truth.
“What made you change your mind?” His face remains stoic, but his forearms ripple again, like he’s clenching his fists where I can’t see.
“Honestly?”
“Always, princess.”
“You.”
Surprise flickers over his face, and is gone in the next second, his emotionless mask back in place.
“Me?”
“And the truth. You, and the truth.”
“Why me?”
A sigh heaves from my chest, and I cross my arms now, trying to hide myself and rein in the vulnerability I’m feeling take over.
“You’re really going to make me say it?”
“You’re not just going to admit that you were pretending with all of us and get away with it. Tell me.” The subtle command in his voice makes me bite my tongue and push away thoughts of him using that tone for other reasons.
“Fine,” I huff, and the words come tumbling out, fast enough that I can’t stop them and hopefully intelligible enough that I won’t have to repeat them.
“I saw you weren’t at all how Dane described.
You care about everyone around you, and while you piss me off to no end with your overprotective First Guard bullshit” —He cracks a close-lipped smile at that but doesn’t break eye contact—“In a way I think that is how you show you care and I was just not willing to accept it because I was trying to break out of the overbearing wrath of my father. I didn’t need it from you too. ”
“I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I don’t know what Rem did or how he made you feel, but I wasn’t trying to do that to you again.”
My jaw falls open. “Did you just apologize?”
“Don’t get used to it,” he says with a grin. “I’m usually right, remember?”
I roll my eyes and he laughs. Not a quiet one, an actual Weston laugh that I’ve only heard him give to other people, or when he was drunk.
“Thank you for the apology,” I say.
“I will do my best not to be overbearing, but I can’t just stop, princess.”
“Can you stop calling me princess?”
“No,” he says and steps away from the rail, closing the distance between us. My body stiffens as he leans closer, and his voice lowers to a rumble.
“I think you like it. Princess.”
My knees threaten to buckle and my abdomen tumbles. I need to take a step back, to get farther away from him so I can think straight again, but I don’t. And neither does he.
“Do you think he will hurt you?”
My brain stutters as I try to figure out what he is asking.
“Who will hurt me?”
He smirks, as if he can tell he flustered me. “Taril.”
“Oh, uh, no. I don’t think Taril will hurt me.”
“Are you going to jump off my ship again?”
“Technically, I never actually jumped off.”
He levels a look at me. “If he says something that you like or don’t like, are you going to try to leave?”
Straightening my shoulders, I look him in the eye and feel the truth in my entire body as I speak it. “No, I’m not going to leave.”
He nods in acceptance. “Then yes, you can go talk to him.”
My body feels lighter with his permission. I didn’t realize how much him trusting me to take care of myself would affect me, but it does, enough that the desire to tease him comes back again. Stepping away abruptly, leaving him waiting for a response, I stride toward the set of stairs nearest us.
“You can stand outside the door if it makes you feel better,” I call over my shoulder.
He chuckles, and I feel a sense of satisfaction wash over me.
“Don’t tempt me, princess.”