Tea Time Talks
Chapter twenty-nine
Soft murmuring tugged Lucianna to consciousness. Her nose wrinkled. It felt as though she’d slept on a rock all evening, with her face covered in sand. She rubbed her eyes before blinking them open and taking in her surroundings.
Her choice of bed was not much better than a rock or sand.
She recalled sitting at the head of the ship, resting her back in the nook that pointed them to Grimhaven.
Her now–burnt out lantern sat next to her, and the faint scent of cinnamon mixed with that of the salty mist. She moved and fabric fell into her lap.
An all-too-familiar coat lay crumpled on her legs. Finnick’s.
She brushed her fingertips over the fabric.
Lucianna did not know what to make of her husband.
He flirted at times, teased in others, and criticized too.
Yet he also had given her his jacket more than once and made it so she had ample time for her family before their departure.
Lucianna remembered Finn giving Cora his jacket and supposed that perhaps he was just prone to random bouts of kindness.
In any case, Finnick Valengard was a mystery.
One she was afraid to uncover, for she knew not what she would do if beneath his rakish charm was a man of good countenance and amiable make.
Lucianna threw her ponderings into the sea and pushed her aching body off the wood slats of the ship, letting Finnick’s jacket fall away.
The sun had only just crested the horizon, and the sky was a canvas brushed in pale blue and soft pink with streaks of golden shimmer.
A gentle breeze cooled her skin and puffed the ship’s sails.
The Tides caressed the hull of the ship, gently guiding them along.
No evidence of the prior night’s treacherous events could be found.
The deck had been thoroughly swabbed—after Cora had taken her samples—and all was calm.
Movement on the main deck drew Lucianna’s eye.
Finnick carried two chairs out and set them around a table, next to more chairs.
Wren occupied one of the existing chairs, her back to Lucianna, so she could not see what the princess was doing.
Finnick’s gaze lifted and caught sight of Lucianna. He grinned.
“Sleep well, little thief?”
She went to reply, almost using her true voice, then felt an intense burning when she called upon her Gift last minute.
Her constant use of the foreign voice was beginning to wear on her.
She would need to rest it more. Lucianna did not reply to Finnick.
He would likely think she was annoyed with him, which served her purposes well enough.
Though she was tempted to leave his jacket on the floor of the ship, her upbringing dictated she repay a kind favor with a measure of gratitude. So she picked it up and slung it over her forearm before descending the forecastle deck stairs onto the main deck.
Finn sat on one chair and kicked his feet up on another as Lucianna approached. Meanwhile, Wren was trying and failing to strike a match.
“Good morning, Lucianna,” the princess murmured, then let out a victorious “Ah!” when the flame kindled. She quickly held it beneath what looked to be a metal pot of water, then blew out the match.
Lucianna eyed the contraption curiously. Wren smiled up at her and gestured to the empty chair next to Finnick’s boots.
“Do sit. We shall have tea soon. Would you like some? I brought peppermint tea and honey aboard.”
“Everleaf, too,” Finnick said, and Wren wrinkled her nose.
“If one could call such an abomination tea.” She shook her head. “But yes, I will make that too, for Cas.”
Everleaf was a dark, bitter tea known for its energizing properties. Lucianna was not fond of it but had drunk it a time or two when needing to stave off sleep for a task.
“He didn’t sleep last night?” Finnick questioned as he pulled out the dagger he’d taken back from Lucianna the evening prior. He began to spin it, the silver blade casting rainbows of light across the weathered wood table.
Wren shot Finnick a flat look.
“You know he did not. I fear he won’t until we retrieve the artifact. I awoke several times to him writing furiously by candlelight. Even now, he writes.”
The princess sighed and dumped a brown paper satchel of leaves in the now-steaming water. Peppermint bathed Lucianna’s senses, and her throat ached in anticipation of the relief.
“Has he taken to the walls? Did the captain permit him as much?”
Finnick tipped his head back. Lucianna followed his gaze to find Kaiden at the ship’s wheel. Beside him, young Kelwin studied the horizon with a golden spyglass.
“The captain said we were to use the quarters as we saw fit.” Wren stirred the leaves with a small wooden spoon. “Though I do not think he knows of Cas’s propensity for redecorating,” she said wryly.
Lucianna recalled Castien’s study and the way he had plastered the walls with paper and ink. The master strategist was far more eccentric than his controlled demeanor suggested.
Finn hummed. “I suspect he doesn’t, or else he might have added a contingency. You may very well owe the man a new ship once this is all said and done.”
“We will owe him far more than that once this is over.”
The princess slid a collection of porcelain teacups toward her and began spooning honey from an amber jar into each one. She glanced at Lucianna, her blue eyes sparkling in the morning light.
“Honey?” she inquired.
Lucianna nodded, ignoring the feeling of her husband’s potent stare. Wren set a metal strainer atop a cup and began pouring the steaming tea.
“It will not be the finest cup of tea you’ve had, but it is better than none at all, no?” She smiled warmly and indicated the first cup was to be Lucianna’s.
Lucianna accepted it and took a fortifying sip before whispering, “Thank you.”
“Only you would bring a tea set on a pirate ship, darling Wren,” Finnick remarked with a chuckle.
A dark, unnameable emotion slithered through Lucianna at Finnick’s endearment toward Wren. She clenched her toes in her shoes.
“Hence why I am aboard this ship, darling Finn.”
“Tides knows it’s not your skills with a dagger,” Finnick teased.
Wren glared, but mirth tugged at the edges of her mouth.
Discomfort sparked in Lucianna’s chest at their familiarity. Lucianna still could not ascertain the nature of their relationship. Though she didn’t like the thought of Finnick betraying his vows, she hated even more to think the gentle princess was anything but loyal to the prince.
Wren’s gaze cut to Lucianna, then back to the tea.
“Finn, would you see if our captain and his quartermaster would care for tea?”
Finnick nodded and dropped his boots to the ground.
“I should like a cup of Everleaf, if you intend on making some for Cas.”
Wren made a face of distaste but nodded nonetheless. Finn crossed the main deck and up the stairs to where Kaiden and Kelwin manned the wheel.
“Finn shows his care by teasing,” Wren commented once Finn was gone. The princess took a dainty sip of tea. “He always has.”
Lucianna hummed in acknowledgement, not knowing how to reply. She nursed her tea, grateful for the way the honey coated her sore throat.
“Yes, since our days at the academy, he has poked and prodded, never minding his own.” She let out a soft laugh. “He is the reason Castien and I are together now, though I try not to say so in front of him.”
Lucianna shifted in the wooden chair.
“He is?” she questioned.
Wren dipped her chin, tracing a finger around the edge of her teacup.
“There was a period in which I would not speak to Castien.” Darkness shuttered her expression. A sad sigh fell from her lips. “If not for Finn, I dare say our separation might have been permanent. At the very least, it would have gone on far longer than necessary.”
Lucianna hid her frown behind her teacup. If Finnick encouraged the prince and princess to reunite, then he could not harbor feelings for the princess, nor she for him. And yet . . .
“He calls you darling,” Lucianna blurted out, then blushed fiercely as her curiosity got the better of her.
Wren laughed.
“He does so in jest. It began as a way to pester Castien, which is oft Finn’s goal. Now I suppose it is a term of endearment, in the way of a brother teasing his little sister.” She picked up her cup and met Lucianna’s gaze through the steam. “That is what Finnick is to me: a brother.”
Lucianna quickly looked down at the table. The princess seemed to know Lucianna’s thoughts. It was disconcerting.
“Four cups of Everleaf,” Finnick called down from the quarterdeck.
Wren sighed. “I suppose I should go fetch that dreadful tea and more water from below. I’ll see if Petals and Cora are awake and in want of refreshment, as well.” The princess stood and gave Lucianna another smile. “Thank you for the pleasant conversation.”
“Thank you for the tea,” Lucianna murmured.
Another graceful smile and the princess was off, her pale pink skirts swishing.
Lucianna watched her go, not for the first time feeling like she did not know her companions at all.
Each of them was a puzzle to her. Typically Lucianna enjoyed the process of deciphering, but no longer did she hold a fondness for the activity.
For she was trapped with each of these puzzles.
And all—save for Cora—came armed.