Chapter 5
Reva
Later that night, I’m simultaneously exhausted but too wired to sleep.
The house is silent while I make myself a cup of tea in the kitchen.
On the ship, there was always someone awake, someone working.
But here, there’s no need for anyone to be on high alert, waiting for enemy ships or adjusting the sails during the night.
It’s eerily quiet. I don’t know if it’s thanks to the lack of proper lighting beyond my single lantern, but it feels like there’s someone tucked away in a dank corner, watching.
Heading out of the kitchen on bare feet with the lantern in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, I then stumble to a halt.
There’s the oddest sound I can’t begin to place coming from nearby.
It’s a steady and repetitive sch-sch-sch, followed by a pause, then sch-sch-sch.
I follow the sound to the room next door where a faint glimmer of light is visible through a crack in the door.
I gently push open the door, popping my head in through the gap to investigate.
“Well hello there. Don’t be shy.”
I step inside and find Captain Finch surrounded by a pile of sawdust on one side and material on the other. His tentacles are working at a frantic pace, chiseling and sanding what looks like a chair leg.
“Evening, love,” he says. “Trouble sleeping?”
I nod, stepping fully inside. “How about you?” Eyeing the pile of objects he’s surrounded himself with, my brow creases. “Do you ever sleep?”
He scratches his chin, tossing his long hair back as he grins over at me. “I’m like a shark, love, I sleep while I’m walking along. It’s funny how often people don’t notice.”
Once again, I have no idea if he’s joking or not. It’s impossible to judge by his expression or anything else, and knowing Finch, I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Well, take a pew,” he says with an expansive wave of his hand. “You’re very welcome.”
I sip my tea and glance over at the steaming kettle that’s sitting in the embers of the fire. “Tea?”
He nods, his tentacles pausing in their work to give me a jaunty wave. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
There’s a teapot and some clean mugs, so I quickly set about making his tea.
I then shift a pile of white material into my lap as I take a seat beside Finch while he continues to hack at the wood, whittling and then smoothing edges before carving out holes until he has something that looks like the chair I’m sitting in.
Its surface is slightly smoothed so I sink right into it and it’s oddly comfortable.
“What exactly are you doing here?”
“Keeping busy,” he replies. “Thought we needed some fresh furniture that isn’t going to fall apart every time someone puts their weight on it.”
“You make me feel lazy,” I tell him.
Cap just shrugs unconcernedly, smoothing an edge with his hand. “Like I said, I’m a shark. I have to keep moving.”
That strikes me as different from what he said earlier. “You have to?”
He hesitates for a moment before giving the smallest of nods, as though it’s not something he admits easily.
“I always had a lot of energy when I was younger, but it wasn’t quite like this.
” He jerks his head towards the tentacles that are moving at a furious pace, sending sawdust flying in all directions. “This came later.”
After the labs, I’m guessing he means.
He leans forward, and his tentacles both stop their movement as he blows sawdust from the chair leg before slowly leaning back.
His eyes remain locked on mine the entire time, and he’s got this fluid way of moving that’s oddly mesmerising.
Once he’s sitting upright again, he crosses his legs, and I notice that he’s somehow lost another couple of buttons and his entire chest is now exposed.
My cheeks flush as I clear my throat and lean back.
What is it about this man that makes me so flustered?
He has this way of looking at me that’s both disarming and so intense I don’t know what to do with myself.
Despite the constant movement of his body parts, he’s also got a watchfulness and a stillness to him. I just know that he doesn’t miss much.
His grey eyes rest on mine for a moment before running over my flushed cheeks before his tentacle reaches out to casually brush some sawdust from my shoulder.
“It’s worse being on land,” he says. “It’s been a long time since I was and it makes me itchy. Restless.” His eyes stay locked on mine as his tentacle shifts until it's forming small circles on my shoulder. “More restless than usual, I mean.”
“You’re always on the water?” I ask, fighting the urge to say something stupid, like asking how he would usually get rid of his restlessness. “You always stay on the ship, I mean?”
He nods. “Whenever I go a little stir-crazy, I just head for deep water and spend some time alone down there to decompress.” He gives a dangerous little half-smile at his wordplay before raising an eyebrow at his wayward tentacle, which is now moving over my shoulder and pressing into a particularly hard knot.
“Sorry about him. He’s got no manners.”
I reach behind me and give his additional appendage a little squeeze, which it seems to enjoy, judging by its enthusiastic quiver in my hand.
“Don’t you get lonely?” I ask suddenly.
The tentacle freezes in my hand before slipping away, then returning to my shoulder where it continues massaging small circles into my tight muscles.
“Sorry, that was a personal question,” I backtrack.
“You don’t need to answer that. I just know how it is going from place to place and I didn’t realise at the time that I was lonely.
Then I stopped for a second and... well, it wasn’t until I met Frannie and Kit and realised how things could be different.
I suppose it’s different for you because you always have the crew, but... ”
Thankfully, he gives a soft smile that reminds me a whole lot of Kit, not seeming to mind my blabbering.
“It must be hard to have a relationship on the ship,” I continue, even though my cheeks are now burning. He doesn’t even have the courtesy of acting like he hasn’t noticed either, with his eyes darting to rest on them each in turn.
“If things go wrong, I mean.” Oh great, I’m still talking, why am I still talking? “It must be awkward having exes still stuck on the ship and having to see them every day.”
He pauses for a moment, cocking his head to one side with his gaze still focused intently on my cheeks.
“Cookie and Bones’s arguments are enough proof of that,” he replies.
“I’d never step into that territory with my crew.
Not while I’m their captain. Plus, I can’t say any of them are my type.
Not that I didn’t dabble when I was younger, but growing older brings clarity for some things.
” Finch’s attention shifts back to the tentacle which is now running up to my scalp and massaging my aching head.
It’s like the thing has some magical ability to seek all the tender spots I’m struggling with and soothe away the aches and pains.
“As for being lonely, I’ve never thought much about it.
I must be less evolved than you are, love.
I suppose after being alone for so long, it’s become my normal.
” He clears his throat, sitting upright.
“But don’t you be feeling sorry for me. I enjoy what I do and the little family we have here, or else I wouldn’t be forcing myself to stay ashore on Kit’s orders. ”
I lean forward to squeeze his knee, and his eyes widen. The other tentacle stops its work to reach toward me, drawing a line over the top of my hand and keeping it where it is when I try to pull away. Finch glances down and huffs a light laugh before adding his hand to the pile.
I fiddle with the material in my lap, words caught in my throat that I don’t quite want to give voice to just yet. It’s oddly peaceful here with him working away. It’s only after I inspect the material properly that I realise what I’m holding.
A pile of underpants.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, feeling my cheeks burn. It’s such a stupid thing to feel embarrassed by, but Finch eyes me with an amused smirk, and my blush spreads down to my chest.
“They’re not mine, love,” he says. “Another little gift for our wise monarch. I even embroidered them with his initials.”
Unfolding them, I can see an elaborate swirl of letters at the very bottom of the legs and rise to my feet. I feel the strangest urge to do something, to take the underwear and—
Finch whips the material out of my hands with one tentacle before holding it up for my inspection.
TBK.
“His initials?” I ask. “King Wildrake’s? Are we talking about the same person here?”
“Aren’t they, though?” he says, his smirk widening. “Anyway, it won’t matter. Whichever one of his mail-opening servants will be so impressed with the quality of the linen, they won’t notice.”
Now that I’m no longer holding them, my moment of madness has passed and I retake my seat. I think of that quiet whisper as I held them up. The subtle urge to stand, to move, to...
Deliver them to the king.
“They’re cursed,” I murmur softly. “Just like the parcel you asked me to post.”
Although I have no idea why he needed me to post something addressed to the king.
“Just a subtle one. One that’ll ensure they’re delivered,” he replies.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I want the answer to the questions burning inside me. Ones I probably should have asked before I helped deliver that package.
“Can I ask why you’re sending parcels to the king?”
“Kit didn’t tell you?” His eyebrows shoot up.
My stomach twists with unease. “I haven’t spoken to Kit in... days.” It’s not until the words are coming out that I realise that’s how long it’s been. “I’ve barely even seen him.”
“Ah, he’s been a little distracted,” Finch replies.
“So... the underwear?” I ask because asking about that is a lot easier than asking if Finch knows what the hell is going on with his brother.