Gratitude
Chapter fifty-five
The scent of peppermint and Everleaf drew Lucianna to consciousness. Her face screwed up in awareness of the pain that pulsed through her entire body. It felt as though she’d spent a week being beaten mercilessly.
“Lucianna?” Wren’s soft voice broke through the thick fog that hung over her senses. “Can you hear me?”
Lucianna opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came. To use the voice that was not hers was akin to swallowing a razor blade. So she nodded and hoped the princess could make out the sluggish movement.
“I’m sure your throat is sore from coughing up all that water,” Wren murmured. “Well, you’ve got impeccable timing as I just brewed some tea. When you’re ready, I think that may help.”
Lucianna blinked her eyes open. Water? She tried to recall what had occurred. Memories floated to the surface of her mind like driftwood.
The lothyda rising from the deep.
Fighting with Finnick.
Sliding across the deck, then . . . nothing.
She remembered nothing else.
“Finn is going to be livid he wasn’t here when you woke up.” Wren continued speaking as she stirred the pot of tea on her makeshift stove atop a nightstand. “He didn’t leave your side until mere minutes ago, to help with ship repairs.”
Lucianna’s muscles cried out as she reached up to rub her crusted-over eyes.
Her lips tasted like salt, and her skin felt as though she had rolled in it.
She glanced down and saw soft yellow fabric over her body.
That was not what she had been wearing in her last memory.
She grabbed at it and looked to Wren in question.
Thankfully, the princess understood her meaning. She placed a comforting hand on Lucianna’s shoulder.
“I helped you change. You were freezing, and we were worried you’d catch your death.”
Lucianna nodded, though she was still lost in a maze of confusion.
“I take it you don’t recall much of anything?” Wren inquired.
Lucianna shook her head. The princess returned to the tea, straining it over two ceramic cups with peonies painted on the outside.
“Finn tells me you slid across the deck, hit your head, and fell overboard. Unconscious.” Shock rattled Lucianna’s feeble senses. “He dove in after you and—with Petals’s help—got you back on the ship. I watched him breathe you back to life with my own eyes.”
Lucianna’s skin flushed. Her fingertips brushed her chapped lips. She jerked her hand back down when Wren turned to face her again.
“Then, he helped defeat the monster. You’ve barely stirred since then. I helped you change, then Finn lay beside you through the night.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I should go get him. I promised him I would.”
Lucianna’s heart skipped in her chest. Wren looked at her with eyes that saw too much. Or perhaps felt too much. The princess smiled.
“Would you like to sit up and try some tea? I’ll get Finn, then go below deck for some oats.”
Wren grasped Lucianna’s arm and placed her other palm against her back as she aided her in rising from the bed.
Pain radiated through her but dulled when she settled her back against the headboard.
Wren drew the covers up over her waist in a maternal manner, then passed Lucianna a steaming cup.
She noticed that her hands had fresh, dry bandages as she grasped it.
“There you are.” Wren smiled again. “I’ll send darling Finn to you. Perhaps he can answer more of the questions swimming in your eyes.”
Lucianna mustered a weak smile in return. Wren floated out of the room, and Lucianna took her first sip of tea. The liquid stung, but she knew it would eventually soothe, too. Two sips later, her husband burst into the room.
His blond locks were a tousled mess, and his clothes were practically made of wrinkles. There was a sheen of perspiration over his skin and shadowy half-moons beneath his blue eyes.
“You’re awake,” he breathed, his relief evident.
Lucianna nodded in response, then touched her throat to indicate she couldn’t speak.
“Wren said you probably hurt your throat from coughing too much,” Finnick commented as he drew nearer. He stood beside the bed, looking down at her with deep concern.
“I suppose that makes it difficult to inquire of your well-being.” He sighed and took a seat on the edge of the bed near her feet. “I’m certain you’re in pain, but hopefully with time and rest you’ll recover quickly.”
A bandaged hand settled over her feet. Warmth seeped through the blankets.
“Wren told you what happened?” he asked, and she nodded. “Did she say why I was not here when you awoke?”
Lucianna tipped one of her hands back and forth to indicate sort of. She considered motioning for parchment and a quill, but it would be unpleasant to write with the state of her hands, and she did not have the energy, either.
“The lothyda broke the foremast,” Finnick explained.
Lucianna’s eyes widened. There was no way they could make it to Grimhaven with such significant damage.
“We’re repairing it as best we can, but the captain has decided to reroute for Stonemouth. We’ll stop there for a brief time to replenish supplies and get the Maralyn in proper shape before heading to Grimhaven.”
She nodded. That was the wisest choice, though it made their short time frame all the tighter. Hopefully they would not need to spend long there.
Finnick shifted and winced in pain. It was then that Lucianna noticed how he sagged more than sat on the bed. How much harm had he incurred while saving her life? Guilt pricked at her heart.
He wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirt sleeve, then smiled at her, though it was tight and small.
“I’m glad you are awake.”
His gaze met hers, and there was something hidden in its depths that made her think he wanted to say more. Behind him, the door opened, and Wren entered along with Cora.
“Tides, you scared us half to death!” the alchemist admonished, as though Lucianna had chosen to smack her head and drown. “Never do that again.”
Lucianna pressed her lips together. She wasn’t sure she could endure the pain a laugh would bring. Finnick’s smile widened a touch at Cora’s words.
“How’s your tea?” Wren inquired as she began setting up the pot again with water and oats. “Is it helping?”
Lucianna nodded and mouthed, thank you. Cora climbed onto the bed next to her and produced a small amber jar.
“I made this salve for your head wound. It should prevent any scarring. I used to make it for Mother all the time,” Cora said, rolling her eyes as she referenced her mother.
Finnick squeezed Lucianna’s ankle, making her startle a little. She met his tired gaze.
“It looks like you’re in good hands, so I’m going to go back out there. Wren will come get me if you have need of me.” He spoke with a gentleness that stirred warmth behind her sternum.
He went to stand. Lucianna reached for him, pain halting her movements. She winced and closed her eyes.
“You shouldn’t overexert yourself,” Finnick admonished.
She opened her eyes and found him kneeling beside the bed. His face was not far from hers.
“Do you want me to stay?” he whispered.
She shook her head. In truth, she didn’t know what she would do now that she had his attention. He should go help the others, but she felt as though he deserved some token of gratitude. Yet what could she give him when she couldn’t manage even a syllable?
Her hand trembled as she removed it from her teacup and set it on top of his where it rested on the edge of the mattress.
His eyes searched her expression. She grazed one of her fingertips over the back of his hand to form a T, hoping he could feel it through the bandages.
Then H, A, N—he stopped her. Grabbed her hand and lifted it to his mouth.
He placed a featherlight kiss to the center of her wrapped palm.
“I’m your husband,” he murmured, then bestowed another kiss that sent tingles through her body. “I’ll always come for you.”
She swallowed the emotion building in her throat.
Finnick stood to his full height, gave her one last soft smile, then left.
Lucianna stared after him. Wren and Cora said nothing.
And for that she was glad, because then she could pretend there were no witnesses to the blush quickly spreading across her face.