Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
My days were filled with his tanned skin.
The scars that dotted every inch of it were a mystery I was slowly unraveling.
Sometimes I found my touch lingering, but he no longer shied away from it as he had before.
If anything, he seemed to welcome it. We never spoke about it, however, enjoying those small moments in silence.
My nights were spent in dreams, each one leaving me more feverish than the one before.
Yet I still could not remember the details, only the pain they wrought.
It was so visceral that I woke soaked in sweat, chest heaving until I could find myself again.
But the longer I spent near Silas, the more that lingering ache seemed to quiet.
Like his presence alone could ease whatever longing or heartache the dreams left behind.
Not that I would admit that to anyone outside of my own thoughts. It was hard enough to admit to myself. It was easier to think that he was nothing other than a specimen to be observed rather than face the possible truths of actually liking the man.
Especially when he faced me, standing with his arms spread wide across the railing under the dusky sky.
I sat before him on a rickety wooden stool, trying not to gawk at the sculpted muscle in front of me.
I hadn’t had a chance to mark the scars that extended from his back around to his sides yet, but I wasn’t truly studying them now.
My fingers traced the corded muscles along his side, prodding them to see how much give they had.
The answer: little to none. Gods, this man was strong.
“If you keep staring at me like that, Beastie, I’ll assume you mean to dissect me,” he said in a low, gravelly tone.
“It’s not out of the realm of possibility,” I murmured, shifting my position so that I could see the scars in full, rather than just his obliques.
With no small amount of shame, I managed to put aside the fact that every scar meant blood on his hands.
Instead, I picked up my quill and began recording the newest set of data presented to me.
My parchment rustled in the wind, the sea breeze gusting across the deck even though we were anchored just off the coast of some island I couldn’t name.
I was an astronomer with a heavy background in horology, not a geographer.
Did it matter to me where we were? A week ago, it would have.
Now, I sat on a rickety stool with ink on my fingers and a complete map of his torso ingrained in my mind.
At some point, I’d stopped caring about where he was taking me or what would happen when we finally solved this riddle and found the Stella Mortis.
It didn’t matter, honestly, because I was going to unearth a solution for the sacrifice, and I would still reap the benefits of discovering such a rare artifact.
“Any progress?” he asked.
“None so far,” I answered, irritation sharpening my tone. I would have had this map decoded ages ago if not for the one key piece of information it was missing.
The godsdamned middle.
There was a large blank space between his shoulder blades.
“You know, this would go a lot faster if I knew why an entire chunk of the map is missing.”
“It’s in the middle of my back. How am I to see it?”
“I can tell that you know something about it.”
“Even if I did, how would it help?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, throwing my hands in the air. “Was that part of the curse? Find the missing piece?”
He didn’t answer, though neither did he tense or tap his fingers.
Honestly, it looked like a large scar all on its own. It was indented and a darker shade of tan, almost red, compared the rest of his skin. The edges were jagged, and craters pitted the center as if something had gashed out chunks of his flesh.
“Is it a wound?” I asked.
His jaw clenched immediately.
“This isn’t a topic I want to discuss.”
“If it would help me figure out the…”
“End of discussion, Miss Godwin!” he shouted as if that would deter me.
“Oh, quiet down, you big brute. It was a simple question, not a siege. Put your guns away.”
An emotion I couldn’t discern flickered across his face before he turned away and crossed his arms.
“We’re done for the day.”
“That’s most unfortunate,” I sighed, setting my quill aside and rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. My shoulder was nearly healed, but fatigue from the pneumonia still occasionally crept in without warning.
Boards creaked as he knelt beside me. I sucked in a breath as he tilted my chin up to look me over. “Come on, Beastie. I want to show you something.”
Silas stood with ease. It took me a moment to gather myself and follow him toward the helm. Suspicion slowed my pace. Did he want to show me the brig again? Because if that was the case…
“Do you trust me?” Silas asked, and I nearly snorted a laugh.
“As far as I could throw you, sure,” I teased.
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew they weren’t entirely true.
He told me the truth about the curse when lying would have been easier.
All of my requests had been met when he could have kept me locked below.
Trust was still a dangerous word between us, but it was no longer entirely absent.
“Close your eyes.” His words were soft, with none of the ragged edges that normally coated his tone.
I met his eyes for a long moment before giving a small nod and following his instructions.
His hand found the small of my back, and he guided me forward with the other on my waist to steady our stride.
The boards creaked beneath our feet as the sea breeze lifted the hair from my neck.
I could feel his gaze on me, a tangible weight against my closed lids, and wondered what he was seeing. What he was waiting for.
“Now,” he said quietly. “Open your eyes, Beastie.”
When my gaze turned toward the water, a gasp tore from my lips and I nearly wept. There, floating in the sea, were a thousand stars.