Hazy Conversation
Chapter twenty
Lucianna preferred sunset to sunrise, and even more so when she was operating on little sleep and shoved into a carriage with a man who took pleasure in aggravating her.
Though he was blessedly silent this morning, his mere presence was enough to set her on edge.
She pressed her fingertips against her eyelids.
The pressure behind them abated, but only slightly.
They were headed to the Luster District to acquire their next crew member.
A man named Caldwell. It seemed that Finn was already acquainted with him.
No one gave Lucianna any information, and she wondered why her presence was necessary at all but didn’t question the prince.
Perhaps one day she would, but not until she was more secure in her standing in his eyes.
So, in the carriage she sat, bumping down the cobblestone road across from her husband, who stared out the small window to his left.
The pale morning light painted his complexion in soft gold and lavender.
His blond locks were darkened as though they were damp and combed back to tame the unruly strands into submission.
His jawline was sharp atop the high collar of his black coat.
He looked rather like a painting. Once again she was struck by the thought that he resembled a prince rather than a future commander.
If anything, Castien seemed more suited to managing troops than Finnick.
“If you’d like, I can turn my head, so you aren’t limited to admiring merely my profile,” Finnick mused. His voice was rough with disuse. Lucianna realized then that this was the first time he’d spoken to her since they parted ways outside of Castien’s study in the middle of the night.
“I am not admiring you.” She punctuated her lie with a scoff.
“Contemplating poisoning me, then?” He smirked. “I imagine it’s easier the second time.”
Lucianna stiffened. She didn’t reply, for she knew he was only trying to goad her.
“If you wanted the matter hidden—as your lack of response would suggest—then why share last night?” he inquired, turning his too-blue eyes on her.
For all his careless demeanor, there was something intense about Finnick’s gaze that unnerved Lucianna. It made her want to know what he was truly thinking. And that was a curiosity she could not entertain.
“It was for Cora’s benefit, not my own,” she stated. “Castien needed to trust that she was capable.”
“And now he knows you’re capable as well.”
Amusement threaded Finnick’s voice. Lucianna glared at him.
“You do not know what drove me to such drastic measures. Perhaps someone’s life ending at your hand is a joke to you, but it is not to me.”
Finnick’s gaze sharpened.
“I was attempting to set you at ease. To let you know I do not judge you. I know what it is to have blood on my hands. And I know the guilt that follows, no matter how deserving the victim.”
Lucianna swallowed and averted her gaze to her lap. Smoothed the skirt of her pale yellow dress. An apology bloomed on her tongue, then withered just as fast.
“It is difficult to tell when your teasing is encouraging or at my expense.”
“Have you ever stopped long enough to discern between the two?”
His question hung in the air. The carriage seemed to close in on itself. Lucianna adjusted her mother’s locket and tried to form a reply.
Before she could, the carriage lurched to a stop. She lifted her gaze and found Finnick staring at her. His gaze was imploring. For what, she could not know. An admission of defeat? An apology?
The carriage door popped open. Lucianna scrambled to get out of the cramped space first. She placed a gloved hand in the coachman’s extended palm and alighted from the vehicle.
Her senses were immediately bombarded with the thick stench of fumes and the loud clang of metal on metal.
A steel mill towered nearby, sending out plumes of black smoke through the large pipes protruding from the rooftop.
Lucianna squinted through the hazy air to make out blacksmith shops, factories, and construction offices.
All of which were pressed together tightly like too many people squeezed into a ballroom.
“This way.” Finnick’s voice startled Lucianna out of her survey of the area.
She turned and followed him down the tight sidewalk.
The hem of her yellow dress began to tinge gray almost immediately from the ash and dirt on the ground.
Lucianna was glad she had chosen to wear her boots, though they weren’t a fashionable pairing with her gown. Her slippers would have been ruined.
There were few people out and about. If they crossed paths with someone, it seemed as though that person were on a path that didn’t allow for so much as a polite nod in their direction.
Lucianna glanced into establishments as they passed them, noting everyone was hard at work even at the early hour.
Ahead of her, Finnick walked with a similar purpose as those that surrounded them.
He did not look over his shoulder to ensure she was there.
Perhaps he knew somehow, or perhaps he did not care if she was following him as directed.
After passing a few more buildings, Finnick stopped in front of a brick structure that might have once been red but was now a muddied gray. He opened the door and held it.
“Thank you,” Lucianna murmured as she entered.
A wave of heat washed over Lucianna. As though she’d held her face over a pot of boiling water.
The sound of battering metal grew almost deafening.
She scanned the vicinity and found a broad-shouldered man slamming a mallet against a piece of glowing iron.
His tan forehead was dripping with sweat, which he paused to wipe on his dirt-streaked sleeve.
A fire roared to his left, painting him in shades of orange and red.
“Caldwell!” Finnick shouted as the man lifted his mallet again.
Caldwell paused. His gaze flicked to Finnick first, then rolled over Lucianna dismissively.
“No,” he grunted, and slung the mallet again.
“Now, don’t be that way,” Finnick cajoled, and sauntered in his direction. “I know you don’t like me, or rather people in general . . .”
Lucianna stifled a laugh against her glove.
“But I have a job for you. One that pays—”
“I said no,” the blacksmith boomed, dropping his mallet on the stone tabletop. “Now leave my shop.”
Caldwell grabbed a nearly black rag off a nearby worktable and scrubbed his face. The sweat dissipated, but he was left dirtier than before he used it.
“We need a gentleman of your expertise. I know you have children now, but think of what fortune you’d obtain for them! You could set them up for the rest of their lives, perhaps your grandchildren, too.”
Lucianna’s stomach clenched at Finnick’s wording.
She knew how powerful that promise was. It made many men do things they would not regularly.
She thought of her father, whom she hadn’t laid eyes on since the wedding, as well as her brother.
Lucianna hoped she would get to say goodbye before she left for Grimhaven.
She’d gotten so swept up in the task at hand that she hadn’t considered seeking them out.
Not that there had been much time, anyway.
“Fortune means nothing if I’m dead,” he growled. “And knowing you, if you’re coming in here with rumors of war creeping down the streets, whatever you’re proposing will be too risky. I like going home to my wife every night. I will not leave her for the promise of riches.”
“You’re practically indestructible,” Finn replied, not giving up. “Perhaps you will leave them for a time, but when you return, you can spend the remainder of your days with them, not having to work long hours in this firepit.”
Caldwell narrowed his eyes.
“Do not use your Gift on me, boy. I will not be swayed. My wife would take this mallet to my head before she’ll let me run off to get myself killed.”
Lucianna raised her brows. Was he able to tell when Finnick used his Gift? Or was he simply as suspicious as she was?
Finnick sighed. “I see you will not be convinced. I understand, but it does leave me in quite the predicament.” He paused and tucked his hands in his pockets casually. “I don’t suppose you could point me in the direction of a more willing participant?”
Caldwell crossed his arms over his barrel chest and studied Finnick.
“Someone like me?” he asked.
Finnick nodded. “We need brute strength. Someone who can take down a wall of guards with ease.”
The blacksmith ran a large hand over his scruff-riddled jaw.
“I know someone. Goes by Petals. I hear he’s Gifted with stamina, but he’s strong, too. Might be who you’re looking for.”
“Petals,” Finnick echoed with a chuckle.
Lucianna found her lips tugging up at the name as well.
Caldwell shrugged. “I didn’t name the guy. He works for old man Barrister, lifting construction materials and the like. Probably find him by the docks this time of year.”
Finnick grinned.
“Your help is much appreciated, though I am saddened at not getting to work together. You were always such a delight.”
Caldwell huffed. “You be on your way, and stay out of trouble you can’t talk yourself out of.”
Finnick gave him a gallant bow.
“Always.”
Caldwell’s gaze shifted to Lucianna.
“Keep him out of mischief, will you?”
It was the first time he’d addressed her. She got the sense he hadn’t ignored her out of rudeness, but more so the desire to get Finnick out of his shop as quickly as possible.
“I’ll do my best,” she replied, for lack of a better response.
He offered another curt nod, then returned to his work. Finnick nodded toward the door. Once they were back on the sidewalk, Finnick brushed dust off his coat.
“Looks like we’re headed to the docks. Let’s hope this Petals is more amenable than Caldwell.”
Lucianna nodded, wondering if Finnick would bring up their conversation once more. He said not a word on their way back to where the carriage idled. She breathed easier when they sat down and still he said nothing. She was safe.
For now.