Chapter 39
The amber glass bottles clinked as Henri stowed the last of them in the apothecary cabinets.
He hoped he’d done it right. He wasn’t familiar with how the Kraken’s stores were organized, and his mind was elsewhere, swimming through the currents with Nia.
It had been days since he’d seen her transform with his own eyes, and among all the jumbled thoughts tumbling through him, one that kept repeating over and over till it carried a heavy coating of guilt and hurt along with it was, Why didn’t she tell me?
It was such a stupid thing to think. He knew it was.
But he couldn’t shake it. He and Nia hadn’t seen each other since they were kids, and ultimately they’d only spent a few winters together.
There were so many reasons she shouldn’t or couldn’t have told him.
They were both just children, and he’d loved their father, and their father had probably sworn her to secrecy.
He’d been a worse man than Henri had realized back then.
But still, if Nia had told Henri the truth, he would’ve tried to help, even if he was just a kid.
Stupid, that he was hung up on that when Nia was missing, the Siren was stuck, and they were likely still being hunted by Rowan’s evil ex. Not to mention Robin was still treating the injured pirates from the Monsoon, who’d been moved to the Kraken.
As if summoned by Henri’s thoughts, the apothecary door swung open, and Robin stumbled through from the infirmary proper. He leaned heavily against the countertop, head down, blond hair hanging lank over his eyes.
“You’re done?” Henri reached across the counter to take his hand, but it remained firmly pressed to the cold stone surface.
“Robin?” Worry edged out the tumult of other feelings.
He smoothed a thumb over the back of Robin’s white knuckles, searching.
Exhaustion shrouded every line of his body, and when he finally looked up after the third stroke of Henri’s thumb, shadows clung beneath his eyes.
He looked so wrung out, Henri’s heart clenched in response.
“Robin?” he asked again. Robin’s eyes locked onto him, looked through him. Henri let go and rounded the counter. He smoothed the wheat blond hair back from Robin’s forehead, and Robin startled, as if just realizing Henri was there.
“I couldn’t. I—” He swallowed roughly, then his expression crumpled.
“There were so many I couldn’t save.” He collapsed into Henri’s arms, shoulders shaking.
A whole new wave of guilt assailed Henri as he wrapped Robin in a tight embrace.
Robin had always been strong in his own quiet way.
He took care of everyone on the ship with minimal fuss.
He’d saved so many of their lives more times than Henri could recall.
He handled horrific injuries with competence and grace, and he’d sometimes looked a bit haunted, but he’d never cracked like this.
While Henri had been dealing with the treasure and Nia reappearing and disappearing in his life, Robin had been working tirelessly to save lives with very little sleep since the storm. And apparently lost quite a few of them.
“Shh, shh, Robin, you’re okay.”
Robin pressed his face to Henri’s skin, tears sliding down Henri’s neck into the collar of his shirt.
Robin’s body shook, but not with sobs. He was too exhausted for that.
Henri guided him to sit on a chair in the corner and knelt on the floor in front of him, still holding him.
He pressed Robin’s face tighter into his neck, his other arm squeezing him, grounding him until he cried himself out.
It didn’t take long. The tears slowed, his breathing evened out, and Henri was just beginning to think he’d cried himself to sleep when Robin spoke.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Henri stroked his hair. “Whatever you’re sorry for, it’s okay.”
“I couldn’t save all of them.” Robin’s breath hitched. His arms hung heavy around Henri’s waist.
“You tried your best, Robin. You saved as many as you could.” He knew it was an empty platitude in the grand scheme of things.
Robin had always been harder on himself than necessary.
Every death of someone under his care weighed as heavily as if the entire sea pressed down on him.
With three crews to take care of, he’d been working nearly around the clock, and it all piled up.
“You’re the best doctor I’ve ever met,” Henri whispered. Robin’s body stiffened for a moment, then relaxed.
“I’m so tired.”
“Let’s get you to bed.” He kissed the side of Robin’s head, then guided him to his feet. After a few dragging steps, Henri lifted him, one arm around his back and the other beneath his legs. Robin didn’t even protest like he usually would, he just laid his head on Henri’s shoulder.
When they made it to their room a few doors down from the infirmary, Henri sat him down on the thin bed. Robin clung to him.
“I’m right here.” Henri planted another kiss on his ear, and Robin released him.
Henri removed Robin’s boots and socks, then moved to pull off his shirt and replace it with one of Henri’s own large, soft nightshirts.
He stripped off Robin’s trousers, letting the shirt’s folds fall over Robin’s hips.
Robin surrendered to Henri’s attentions, once again retreating within.
He stared through Henri as he changed himself into nightclothes too.
Henri crawled into bed, then when Robin made no move to join him, pulled him down into his arms. Robin settled on his front between Henri’s legs, head on Henri’s stomach.
Henri closed his eyes and buried his fingers in Robin’s hair, trying to still all the thoughts swirling through his head.
Outside their little pocket of darkness, the ship still stirred with the activities of settling into night.
Henri remembered he’d skipped dinner, but he had no desire to move from this spot.
After a long while, Robin shifted.
“Your stomach is growling.”
“Sorry.”
More silence, Henri hoped Robin was relaxing into sleep.
“I can’t sleep.”
“You’re exhausted, mon cher.” He stroked Robin’s cheek. It felt more hollow than its usual round fullness.
“I keep…” He swallowed, throat bobbing against Henri’s stomach.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I just want to sleep, but my brain won’t be quiet.”
Henri knew the feeling. They dropped into silence again, listening to each other’s breathing and footsteps on the deck above.
“I’m sorry,” Robin whispered. He sounded on the verge of tears again.
“About what?”
“About Nia…You must be hurting, but I’m making things all about myself.” They’d barely talked in days, Robin either busy in the infirmary, or snatching a moment of sleep.
“We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Robin sighed into his touch.
“Do you want something to help you sleep?” Henri felt Robin nod.
He shifted out from under him, murmured he would be right back, and padded barefoot back to the infirmary’s storeroom.
He lit the lamp and grabbed the vial of mild sleeping draught off the shelf, then paused, frowning.
The spot next to the draught was empty. He could’ve sworn he’d restocked the essence of poppy after Robin had taken the old bottle for the Monsoon’s patients.
Henri shook his head. He was distracted by everything with Nia. Maybe he hadn’t restocked it after all. He’d get to it tomorrow. Henri made his way back to Robin.