CASPIAN
THREE WEEKS LATER
I pour myself another glass of wine, wishing it was rum.
A few drops spill as the attendants poking at my clothing jostle my arm and I catch the glare of the head seamstress.
I’m sure I’m stressing her out drinking red wine in my wedding clothes, but I literally couldn’t care less.
Tonight is my wedding to Lady Annika and I plan to be so drunk I don’t remember it.
I’m well on my way and it’s only mid morning.
We’d returned to De’Vero a week ago, and after keeping me in the dungeons for a few days, Aldric had allowed me back to my rooms under heavy guard by soldiers loyal to him.
I know they’re loyal because I’ve tried everything to bribe them and anytime I ask to see Thaddeus, they ignore me.
So I’m biding my time—I figure the more I prove I’m not going to cause any trouble, the more likely I will be able to cause said trouble more effectively.
And I do plan on causing a whole lot of trouble for Aldric before I eventually kill him.
I haven’t been able to think about anything but James.
Everyday I remember something else—a look, a touch, a moment we had together—it doesn’t matter.
In my mind, he’s alive, and so I’ve been spending a lot of time there, spacing out in my room, feeling guilty and mourning the loss of him.
There are times I half-expect him to barge into the room, shove me up against the wall and—
A sewing needle pokes me through the fabric, bringing me back to the present and putting an end to my memories and my patience.
“Get out,” I snap .
“But sir—”
“Do you really think I care at all what I look like tonight?” I bark. “Get out!”
They all scramble to gather up their things while I yank off the clothing and toss it to the seamstress who scowls, but thankfully leaves without another word.
Once they’re gone, I slouch down in a chair by the open double doors and glare moodily outside while gulping down yet another glass of alcohol. It’s an annoyingly beautiful day—the ocean glitters on the horizon, taunting me with its proximity while being far out of reach.
I go to take a sip and realize my cup is empty. I sigh heavily and heave myself out of the chair to meander over to my bar cart. I stumble slightly and bare my teeth in satisfaction—with any luck, I’ll be blacked-out drunk by noon.
The sound of movement behind me cuts through the pour of wine.
I turn around in annoyance. “What part of get out , didn’t you—” My words die as I stare at the silhouette in the doorway of the balcony. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Caspian,” Harrison drawls.
He comes further into the room and looks me up and down. “Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?”
I follow his line of sight and realize I’m only in a pair of underwear. I finish pouring my wine and walk back over to my chair, taking a large sip before answering.
“I’m getting married tonight.” I sink back down in the cushions and moodily study Harrison over the rim of my glass. “I plan on not remembering any of it.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Harrison plucks the wine from my hand.
“Hey! What the fuck!” I glare at him angrily. “Why are you here? James is dead—Aldric has the gold—I have to figure out how to fuck him up without jeopardizing Foxhollow—”
“Yeah, clearly you’re very busy,” Harrison remarks sarcastically.
“Yes, I have a lot to do and none of it involves fighting you for my wine, Blondie.”
“Are you done?” Harrison moves around the room, picking up my shirt, he tosses it to me.
“What?”
A pair of pants is next, landing on the chair. “Aldric doesn’t have the gold.”
“What?” I say again incredulously.
He throws my boots at me, a little harder than necessary. I fumble one, and the other hits my stomach and falls to the ground.
“God, how drunk are you? ”
“Slow down, what do you mean Aldric doesn’t have the gold?”
Harrison throws my empty sword belt at me and stands, hands on his hips, regarding me with annoyance.
“We don’t have time for this,” he grumbles. “Can you dress yourself? Because I’m definitely not doing that—”
I wave away the comment and shove my legs into my pants, hopping slightly as my balance wavers. I look up to see amusement dancing in Harrison’s eyes, and I scowl.
“Fuck off, I wasn’t expecting to have to be functional today.”
“Can you wield a sword?”
I shrug into my shirt, shoving it haphazardly into my pants. “Probably—if I had one—”
Harrison produces a second cutlass I hadn’t noticed from his belt.
“You’re just full of surprises,” I hold up my hands quickly. “Don’t throw that thing at me.”
I sit down to pull on my boots. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“I would have assumed that’s obvious,” he says dryly.
“I’m drunk, remember, humor me.” I do up my laces and start on the other boot.
“I’m breaking you out.”
I stand up, sufficiently dressed but definitely not sober. Harrison comes over and hands me the cutlass.
“Careful with that,” he jokes.
“Even drunk, I bet I’m still better than you,” I tease.
I put the blade on my belt, feeling instantly better being armed.
Harrison barks a laugh. “I won’t make you prove that; Blackwell would definitely have something to say about you coming back to him in pieces.”
I go still. “What did you just say?”
“That I would absolutely kick your ass in the state you’re in right now—”
“No, fucker, the other thing…James—” The amount of hope in that single word is pathetic but I can’t help myself. Harrison smirks and hands me an envelope. I look down at the seal.
“Harrison—I know you don’t like me, but this isn’t funny—”
The wax has James’ signet on it.
Harrison sighs and moves towards the balcony doors. “Just fucking read it—Jesus, I knew you’d be a pain in the ass.”
I tear open the envelope and my heart lurches fully to life in my chest as I see the pirate Captain’s familiar scrawl across the page.
He’s alive.
With shaking hands, I start to read.