Overcome
Chapter fifty-two
Finn had missed sleeping next to his wife. Though the last time they shared a bed had been nothing like this. Lucianna was snuggled against his side, her breathing slow and deep. His ribs ached with a fierceness that made rest difficult, but exhaustion managed to pull him under for a time.
Perhaps it was foolish to sit on a wooden deck when a bed had been offered to him, but Finn had been called a fool before. A smirk tugged at his lips. In his wife’s words, he would be called one again.
A steaming cup of tea entered his bleary vision. He reached a bandaged hand out and accepted it.
“You should be in bed,” Castien groused.
Finn took a drink of the tea, wincing as the hot liquid hit his raw throat.
Choking on copious amounts of saltwater had made it sore.
Peppermint and honey soothed his senses.
He glanced down at his sleeping wife, who had hardly said a word to him earlier.
Finn could attribute that to her general disdain toward him, but he suspected it had to do with the long-term use of her Gift wearing on her.
“So should you,” Finn quietly replied. He did not want to wake Lucianna.
“I did not slam into the side of a ship and almost drown,” Castien pointed out with a scowl. “Take her with you if you must.”
Finn drank more of the tea as he thought it over.
Lucianna was exhausted enough that she should not wake if he moved her to the bed in the captain’s quarters.
But how would she react when she woke up?
Her words about not having room to breathe stalked through his memories like a cryptura in the night.
Yet her behavior today had been different.
She teased him on purpose this morning and was now burrowed into his side like he was her safe haven.
“All right,” Finn rasped, and lifted the half-drunk cup of tea up to Castien, who took it from him. “We will take a few hours of respite.”
Castien dipped his chin in approval, then extended a hand. Finn took it and stifled a pained groan as he was helped to his feet. In the process, he made sure his wife did not topple over without his support.
“I can help,” Castien offered as Finn bent down to where Lucianna was curled up.
“No one is carrying my wife to bed but me,” Finn replied lightly.
Castien heaved an exasperated sigh but did not protest. On a normal day, it would be nothing for Finn to lift Lucianna. She was petite in stature and lithe in muscle. But after all he had endured, it was a trying task. Nevertheless he endured and stumbled his way into the captain’s quarters.
He laid Lucianna on the bed, then unclasped her weapons belt from around her waist. It took him far too long, what with his fading energy and rope-damaged hands.
After that, he spent equally as long tugging off her boots.
Once they were removed, he tucked her under the covers, then looked to the doorway where his cousin lingered, backlit by the midday sun.
“What is it?” Finn grumbled. “I am doing as you suggested.”
“You care for her,” Castien stated.
Finn raked a hand through his hair.
“She’s my wife,” he said by way of explanation.
His cousin did not say anything more, simply stepped back and closed the door behind him, plunging the room into darkness.
With the room’s only window still battened, there was little light save what filtered beneath the door.
Finn climbed into bed, almost falling asleep before he could get beneath the blankets.
As he began to drift off, he allowed himself one indulgence. The back of his hand rested against Lucianna’s. Her warmth spilled over onto him. Hopefully, when she awoke, she’d forgive him for moving her. If not, at least he got to sleep next to his wife one more time.
Hours later, Finn forced his gritty eyes open and swallowed against his dry throat. Instinctively, he reached out. The space next to him was empty. Lucianna must have woken before him. She didn’t try to kill him in his sleep for putting her in bed with him, so perhaps she wasn’t too angry.
Finn sat up. His face scrunched as an ache bloomed across his entire body. He couldn’t remember a time, even in his early days of training, in which he’d been this sore. Finn was now convinced to spar with the sea was worse than any foe.
He forced himself out of bed and staggered through the chamber while scrubbing his face with his hands.
A red glow fell upon him as he opened the door.
The sun was setting in the distance and had painted the sky an unusual crimson color.
He rubbed his eyes again to make sure he wasn’t imagining the strange phenomenon.
It remained, as did the image of his wife smiling over a cup of tea next to Wren.
They sat on a blanket together, backs pressed against the same ship wall he’d been thrown into earlier.
They were joined by the rest of the crew, with the exception of Kaiden.
Petals was propped up against the mainmast, a book splayed over his broad chest and his eyes closed.
Cora sat next to him, her back against his side, reading.
Completing the group were Castien and Kelwin, who were standing near the women.
Castien looked to be showing the young quartermaster how to spin a dagger. Finn smiled.
The calm picture was a reminder they had survived. There was much left for them to accomplish, but for now, they could rest.
Wren’s gaze shifted from Lucianna to Finn, perhaps sensing his arrival. She gave him a warm smile.
“How are you feeling?” she called.
Lucianna looked at him, then immediately ducked her head after. Tides, he wished the sunset hadn’t bathed the whole ship in scarlet, for he couldn’t tell if a blush was spreading across his wife’s face.
He answered Wren as he approached. “Much better.”
And it was true. The few hours had been the best sleep Finn had gotten since boarding the ship, possibly even before that. His muscles were still tense and aching, but he would recover.
“What mischief have you all gotten into while I was asleep?” Finn asked, gesturing to Cas and Kelwin. “I see Castien is teaching the child weaponry. I wish I could say I was surprised.”
Wren laughed. Castien gave him a flat look.
“You taught me these tricks when you were much younger than Kelwin is,” his cousin reminded him.
Kelwin’s gaze lit. “You taught the prince?”
Finn smirked. “Everything he knows.”
“Do not lie to the boy.” Castien’s tone was unamused, but he was smirking.
Finn looked down at his wife. Her weapons belt lay on the quilt next to her.
“May I have my dagger for demonstration purposes, little thief?”
A hint of a smile played on her lips. She unsheathed the silver dagger and passed it to him.
He felt Wren looking at him and knew she was probably putting too much thought toward his giving Lucianna his dagger.
She had stolen it, and he played along, that was all.
He couldn’t allow his heart to attach any sentiment to it, not while Lucianna was still so uncertain about him and their future.
Finn bowed in a show of dramatic gratitude, hiding the wince that accompanied it. Then he turned to Kelwin and displayed the blade.
“What has my cousin taught you?” he inquired.
Kelwin demonstrated a simple spin.
“Well done,” Finn commended, then outstretched his hand as he began a series of complicated spins and flips.
It was second nature to him at this point.
He had often turned to the dagger to rid him of whatever restless energy often plagued his limbs.
That in turn made him increase in skill.
It was the one nervous tic his father had allowed.
Kelwin watched with a mesmerized expression.
“I will teach you the next stage of what Cas did, if you wish?” Finn offered.
The young boy nodded emphatically. “Yes, please!”
Finn walked him through the steps slowly at first, then demonstrated at varying levels of quickness.
Kelwin followed along, a fast learner. Finn suspected the boy’s Gifted eyesight aided in his ability to absorb information, as did his time spent under the captain’s tutelage.
It wasn’t long before he had grasped the gist of the trick.
“You will be a weapons master in no time if you keep this up.” Finn smiled and reached out to ruffle the kid’s sandy-brown hair. Kelwin smiled at him brightly, in a way that reminded Finn of his sister Marina. A sharp homesickness pinched his chest, but he did not let his expression falter.
“Can you teach me another?” the boy asked.
Finn shrugged. “It is not as though we have anything else to do.”
He glanced down to check on his wife and caught her staring up at him, her expression unreadable.
Finn tossed her a wink, and Lucianna shook her head in response, but a smile fought its way onto her lips.
A breeze rustled through her hair, and she tucked a strand behind her ear.
She must have combed it through after she awoke, for it hung about her like a dark curtain.
Finn’s fingers twitched with the desire to reach out and see if it was as soft as it looked.
He shook his head to dispel the thought and turned back to Kelwin. The boy’s exuberance was infectious, and Finn felt some of the energy return to his body.
“All right, I think the next trick I should teach you—”
Finn stopped. Had the air shifted? He looked around.
The breeze that had been toying with his wife’s hair died off.
Above them, the sails went limp as if on command.
His gaze landed on the water. Not a wave in sight.
It was flat, the blood red of the sky reflecting off it like glass.
There was an unnatural stillness to the air, which had thickened into a muggy, metallic heat.
A dark sense of foreboding curled around his spine. He tried to shake it, looking at Kelwin to apologize. The words died on his lips, though, when he caught sight of the boy’s expression. The blood had drained out of Kelwin’s face, his eyes wide and brimming with terror.
“Wh-what is it?” Finn stammered. “Is there another storm? Pirates?”
Kelwin’s head shook slowly from side to side, his chest heaving.
The boy’s fearful utterance—“Lothyda.”—was the only warning Finn had before they were overcome.