24. A of a Time
A Shell of a Time
“To Captain Silas Night,” Charlotte says, raising a mug of ale to the night sky. “I don’t know how you managed to pull this off, but you put on one hell of a show!”
Everyone cheers as they raise their tankards.
I tip mine back and swallow deep, pulling my knees to my chest as I survey their faces.
There is joy and laughter, but nothing that indicates any remorse for killing Willie Taylor, his captain, or those who refused to yield.
I know they’re pirates—they’re used to making these types of decisions—but how can they live with themselves?
I glance at those hesitating just beyond the fire, a mix of crew who’ve been stripped of their fancier clothes.
They watched as some of their crew fought back, as Willie Taylor and their captain were run through with Astra’s and Silas’s knives, and have since chosen to sail with Silas or Charlotte, and from there?
I don’t know. I don’t know how these things work, don’t yet fully understand the politics of pirating, but for now, they’re here with us, new crew added to our ship.
One of the younger men ogles me over the flames, but he looks away just as quickly, hurrying away to fetch some food and drink for himself. Several of the privateers-turned-pirates settle just outside of the fire as people pass around food, sliced mangoes and salted beef on leaves.
“What are you going to do with a ship that large?” Silas asks from beside me, drawing my attention back to him.
Shrugging, Charlotte plops into the sand on Silas’s right.
She scratches a snoozing Sir, who’s dug himself a little spot beside the fire.
“Oh, I don’t know. Probably steal some parts from it, empty its stores, burn it.
” She raises a brow. “And what are you going to do now? You finished your task,” she says with a sweep toward Astra.
Astra lingers across the fire from us, hair still free and cascading down their back.
They flip the dagger expertly in their fingers, gaze distant.
I wonder what they’re thinking, how they feel now that Willie Taylor is dead.
Some relief, perhaps. Maybe this is precisely what they needed to feel a sense of closure.
Or maybe it’ll never be enough.
Silas shrugs. He admires me with a tilt of his head as he takes a swig of ale. “I’m not sure what’s ahead.”
Charlotte glances between us. “Go on,” she says over the noise of the crew. “No one will notice if you disappear for a while.”
As if he’s been waiting all evening for someone to give him an excuse, Silas stands and starts toward our beach, and I hesitate a beat before following, abandoning my tankard in the sand.
The noise of the fire is muffled by the trees, and soon all I hear is the lap of waves on the beach and the rhythm of the wildlife on the island.
It’s a soft, melodic backtrack as Silas and I walk together along the sand.
There are so many things I want to say to him that I don’t even know where to start.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says. “And for the charade. I needed you and the rest of the crew to play along.”
We pause in the sand. His frown deepens, his gaze cast to our feet. “You don’t need to apologize,” I tell him, reaching for his hand.
He doesn’t protest, and I smooth my thumb over one of his rings. “But I do,” he says. He cups my cheek with his free hand, shaking his head. “I didn’t know if my plan would work. Astra and Jack knew, and I’m sure others wondered why I’d steer us directly into a storm, but I had to keep this quiet.”
I shouldn’t want him to hold me after all the bloodshed. I should be terrified of him, but I find myself leaning into his touch, seeking his warmth.
“Did you think the crew wouldn’t be willing to help Astra?”
Silas shakes his head. “I didn’t know what they would think. In all honesty, I simply had to hope they would forgive my deception.”
“It’s not much of a deception. It was a loose plan, after all,” I say.
He runs his thumb over my cheekbone, and the softness in his touch has the hardness from watching him and the crew on the beach melting away, the fear and confusion in where I belong here, if I belong here, disappearing.
There is pain and sorrow in his dark eyes, in the lines around his mouth, and it drags me back to the night after the storm, the one where he curled into my side and cried.
He risked it all for something that should be impossible, but he doesn’t understand the most crucial thing: He is impossible.
“But you did it, Silas. You managed to get us here. We’re alive, I’m alive because of you.”
“And we lost several people.”
“Who knew the risk they were taking!” I argue.
“You did the best you could. You kept your promises, and above all, you saw us to the end.” I tug on his hand and pull him down to the sand.
Our legs tangle together, his knee propped up between us as I scooch closer.
I guide his hand to the place above his heart, my fingers covering his.
“I know you take each death personally, and I don’t blame you.
They’re entrusting their lives to you—we are entrusting our lives to you. ”
“Glad you agree,” he mutters, focusing on our hands.
“But we do it,” I say, ignoring him, “because we will follow you anywhere, Captain.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”
“Silas,” I amend.
He smiles. “Much better.”
He drops his hand from my face and pulls me closer, holding out his arm to me. I tuck into his side, wrapping an arm around his middle and resting my head on his chest.
“I have to ask,” I say as I drag my hand over his stomach. “With Charlotte … did you know?”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
My fingers skate over the constellation tattoo, tracing the ink. “Last night when you and she danced … and this morning when you were blowing things up…” I sigh and sit up, brushing sand from me. “Were you doing it to get back at me, or were you doing it to keep Charlotte here?”
He smiles lazily up at me, suddenly mischievous. “What if I told you it was a bit of both?”
My heart squeezes. “Do you know how much that hurt? To see you dancing with her, to see you lounging by the fire with her, ignoring me. It hurt, Silas.”
“Do you know how much it hurt to know you’d betrayed my privacy?
My trust?” He sits up and gently catches my chin, forcing me to look at him.
There is pain in his features, the edges softening as his shoulders slump.
“You betrayed one of the most basic foundations of a strong relationship: trust. You spied on me.”
I picture Julian’s face. They’re not the same, how I betrayed Silas and how Julian betrayed me. They are not the same, but still, I betrayed Silas’s trust.
“I did not spy on you,” I protest. “At least not at first. I didn’t know you were out there.”
He raises a brow. “Didn’t you? I know you were drunk, but you knew better than to hide in the trees and listen to Charlotte and me.”
I grind my teeth and pull away from him, rising to my feet. “I didn’t know who it was at first—”
“At first!” he exclaims. He stands, hands on his hips. “And when you did know, when you returned to the beach, but stumbled upon a snake and simply couldn’t leave?”
“Yes!” I throw up my hands. “That is exactly what happened, believe it or not. What else do you want from me?”
He turns on me, hands going to my shirt. “I want you to trust me, Laszlo. I want you to believe that I won’t betray you—betray us.”
Us.
Us.
There’s that word again. Why does it hold so much power? He is so close now, his eyes wide and furious, his lips parted as he searches my features, but all I hear as I stare back at him is us.
“But I thought … I thought you and she were … and when I woke up this morning, and you told me…” I say, trailing off.
“I want you,” he says softly. “Since the moment you stepped aboard my ship, I wanted you. You strange man, I want you. You act as though you’ve taken on risks, that you’re too frightened of change, when you’ve handled this strange fate that’s been thrust upon you as if you were always meant for this.
” One of his hands runs up my chest, over my neck, and into my hair.
My eyes flutter closed, and I revel in the feel of his hand, the soft kiss of metal against my skin from his rings, the rough calluses on his fingers as they ghost over me. “I never wanted Charlotte, Laszlo.”
“But she wanted you.”
“Maybe,” he says. “But that doesn’t change us.”
Us.
God, I’ll never get used to hearing that. I never thought someone would feel this way for me. I cover his hand with mine, his fingers still bunched in my shirt.
“I’m sorry I listened in on your conversation with Charlotte. It wasn’t my place, I know.”
He smiles sheepishly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. About her.”
“I don’t blame you. I mean, look how it turned out.” I shrug. “But I have to know. When you danced with Charlotte…?”
He laughs. “I felt it was the best way to teach you to trust me. If we’re going to make this work, you must trust me, Laszlo.”
“It was still very rude.”
He chews on his bottom lip. “Laszlo, I only want you.” He leans forward as if to kiss me, but I press a hand to his chest.
“Uh-uh, I have more questions.”
Dropping his outstretched hand, he raises a brow. “Go ahead.”
“The drinking?”
“I didn’t drink.”
I scoff. “That’s not possible. There had to be at least a dozen empty bottles there.”
“You underestimate Charlotte,” he says, raising a brow.
I squint at him. “And the blowing up of things on the beach?”
“I had to keep Charlotte busy. For my plan to work, I needed more people and guns. I didn’t expect Charlotte or anyone to come, but we were lucky when she showed up.”
I wave a hand. “So you kept her busy for as long as possible to stall for the ship.”
Silas nods, grinning. “And the best way to do that—”
“Is blowing shit up. And drinking.” I shake my head. “You’re kind of magnificent, you know.” Sighing, I flop down onto the sand.