On These Black Sands, page 25
Lucan glanced at the clock on the wall, as if it could tell him when Declan might arrive. “I hope he hurries.”
“Me too.”
31
Aoife
Aoife’s next day and a half was a blur. The familiar images of Lani being hauled away were now joined by the memories of being sprayed with blood, and dull thuds of the crew outside jolted her awake whenever she was able to doze off.
To his credit, Declan had given her time to process the events in Foxhaven. He had allowed her to remain in bed—his bed—for a full thirty hours following the ordeal on the beach. He’d brought her food, small morsels, to nibble on as she could manage. He offered a steady hand whenever she needed to get out of bed to tend to her needs.
How did one recover after seeing such a sight?
She could still feel the warmth that had smacked her face when the blade had struck. She could still feel the way her heart had seemed to stop, as dead and lifeless as the man before her, before resuming with a roaring pounding against her sternum, her stomach launching into her throat. All her will was spent keeping the bile contained.
But most of the time she slept, drifting in and out of dark dreams, and tried her best to give her mind and body the rest it needed.
She couldn’t stop the scene from replaying in her mind. The sound of their voices. The smell of their filth. Her thoughts berated her for not even getting her blade out when they attacked. Tommy’s first words to her after the attack didn’t help drown out her internal admonishments.
You did good.
But she hadn’t done good.
They’d sneaked up on her as she’d been taking the trash out the back door. She’d only had enough time to drop the bags onto the ground before one of the men lifted her up and whisked her down the alley, her screams trailing behind her. Not that anyone on that damned island would care about a woman’s screams.
Damn pirates.
She’d certainly fought as best she could—even without the blade—to get free from those men, but they were much stronger than she was, and the soft sand had been far from helpful in her efforts to pull free.
And then there was the matter of what had happened before that.
She’d been delighted for the opportunity to bathe and wash her clothes while ashore. And Lucy had been kind. But looking back, Aoife could see where the woman had been a bit too eager to know about her history and her past.
Had Aoife said too much? She wasn’t sure. She’d admitted to being from Cregah but saw no harm in sharing that fact. It didn’t necessarily indicate an affiliation with the council, after all.
But she hadn’t anticipated the woman walking in on her while she washed, and she hadn’t been able to hide the marks of the council. Lucy, to her credit, had played it off well enough, not giving away any hint that she knew what the swirls of black, like smoke rising from Aoife’s wrists, indicated. Lucy had only remarked how interesting they were, how she’d never seen anything like them, and then asked if Aoife had gotten them in Cregah or while visiting another land.
They’d seemed like harmless questions that could be tiptoed around easily enough, but still, she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that Lucy wasn’t the sweet person she claimed to be.
You did good.
Those were also the last words Tommy had said to her before he’d been whisked away to his officer duties, leaving Declan alone to care for her.
At first, his quiet patience had been appreciated. But by the second morning she wished for things to return to some semblance of normalcy.
A quip. A retort. A bit of banter. Even an insult would be better than the deafening silence.
He had been even more aloof than usual the next morning. Not cold or harsh. But distant.
She had sensed him about to speak several times, but words never came. She would turn in time to see his mouth snapping shut and his gaze shifting. She wanted to ask him what was going on, but she couldn’t find her voice, held back by the small part of her that still feared him.
She’d been stupid and naive to think he wasn’t a real pirate. Even after he’d threatened to take advantage of her, she hadn’t truly let herself see what he was capable of.
But witnessing him kill someone. So quickly. So efficiently. So mercilessly. Anyone would have been frightened, but her fear was minuscule compared to her sense of gratitude. Perhaps she was an idiot. She told herself he’d only done it for his own gain. He needed her help to free the fae, and she couldn’t let herself believe he actually cared.
And yet, part of her hoped.
At times it almost seemed as though there was a change in how he looked at her. But it was likely just her imagination and her own yearning for companionship making her see what she longed for. She wasn’t hoping for love or a family like Lani had risked everything for, but friendship. A friend would have been nice.
With her sister gone and her remaining family untrustworthy, she had no one, and she was tired of being alone.
Tired of lying in bed watching the morning sun light up the dancing dust motes with nothing but the feelings welling in her chest for company. She couldn’t sort through them on her own, couldn’t process them within her own mind.
She needed to talk them out, to have someone listen, to discuss them so she could best understand.
Short of an actual friend, maybe she could seek out the one person on the ship who seemed okay with her. Tommy. They’d only spoken a few times, but that was more words than she’d shared with the rest of the crew. And he’d never insulted her, so that seemed promising.
She hoped he’d be able to help her. She needed to work through all of these thoughts before she could be useful. And she desperately wanted to be useful.
Swinging her feet to the floor, she peered out the window and willed herself to stand steady as the ship lolled along the sea. Two days on land had sent her back to square one when it came to finding her sea legs. And as they would be arriving in Morshan tomorrow evening, she needed her legs to cooperate.
The cabin was empty.
Based on the state of Declan’s side of the bed, he hadn’t slept at all, though she had vague recollections of his body next to hers during the night, trying to keep a respectable distance.
She moved toward the door, hoping Tommy would be easy to find among the crew. But she stopped at the sound of low voices.
A tingle crept up her spine as she recalled the last time she’d been in this exact position, hearing these two men talking on the other side of the door. She should walk away and respect their privacy. And she nearly did. Until she heard her name.
“Aoife needs you, Declan. I know you don’t want to hear it or believe it.” It was Tommy. Of course. The only person Declan would ever let speak to him like that.
Declan’s voice came out low, harsh. “You’re right. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I know you care. I can see it. But you’re too damn scared to admit it.”
Declan seemed to growl his next words. “Watch it, Tommy.”
“Or what? You’ll push me away? Like you do everyone else?”
She wished she could see how Declan reacted to being challenged in such a way, and she half expected him to give up there, but then he spoke.
“I can’t protect her.” It was so low and muffled she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him right. Surely that’s not what he’d said. He had protected her. Multiple times even.
“You already have,” Tommy said, echoing her thoughts. Before Declan could respond, he added, “I know you have your reasons, but it might be time to leave them behind.”
More words followed, but far too quiet for her to hear.
“Maybe, Declan, you need her too. For more than just this damn dagger.”
The door creaked under the weight of a hand, sending Aoife scurrying back to the bedroom—thankfully with little stumbling. As she sat on the edge of the bed, blankly staring out the window, she pondered the words she couldn’t have heard correctly.
Surely they would not have had such a private and personal conversation in such an open space where anyone could have overheard. But the crew had always seemed to have a certain respect for their captain, along with a healthy dose of fear, not wishing to suffer his reprimands if they dared to defy him.
You need her too.
The words bounced around her mind as footsteps thudded across the main room of the cabin. Then silence. She waited to see if he would say anything, and when he didn’t, she turned.
He wasn’t in the doorway as she’d expected. He wasn’t even looking at her. Rather, he was standing behind his desk with a hand on the back of his chair. He stood there, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity, looking like the weight of the entire Aisling Sea was crushing him, drowning him.
She desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but she didn’t know how to break the silence that had been lingering between them since she’d returned.
Glancing back at the window, she waited. She still wanted to go find Tommy so she could talk to somebody, but now that Declan was in the room, she couldn’t convince herself to leave him. So she waited. The silence stretched on, even as he pulled out his chair and it groaned under his weight. She had a strange urge to get up and go to him, not merely out of curiosity, but out of kindness.
You need her too.
He’d helped her. Even though he’d said he wouldn’t, he had. He’d told her she’d be on her own, but then he’d been there when it mattered most. He’d saved her, and whether he’d done it for his own personal gain or for her well-being, she didn’t care. And now she couldn’t get past the silly and absurd notion that he was the one in need of saving now. But what could she do?
Aoife turned her attention back to Declan, who was now leaning back in his chair with his elbows on the armrests and his fingers steepled under his chin. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was his voice that filled the room instead.
“Come here, Aoife.” It wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. However ridiculous it seemed, she could have sworn he sounded nervous.
Moving as quickly as she could, thankfully not toppling into him when she passed the desk, she took a seat in the chair opposite him. She bristled at the memory of the last time they’d sat here together, the way he’d looked at her with such loathing, the way she’d spat her words at him.
Declan cleared his throat, pulling her out of her thoughts. He pushed a piece of paper toward her, along with a pen and ink. “I need to know where the fae are inside the council hall. Can you draw it?”
“That’s it?” She didn’t move. She only stared at him, hoping he couldn’t hear how her heart thumped in her chest. He was still as handsome as he had been that day in the cove, even if his gray eyes seemed dulled by exhaustion and stress.
He leaned his head to one side, and a piece of hair slid into his tired eyes. Something inside her stirred. She didn’t know where it came from. Maybe it was Tommy’s words earlier, but looking at him now, she wanted to lean toward him, to move his hair back into place, to hold his face in her hands and whisper that it would all be okay. As if this pirate captain needed her reassurance. It was as foolish as thinking he was nervous around her.
Yet a hint of those nerves lingered in his question. “That’s what?”
“After all this silence, no ‘How are you’? No ‘Glad to have you back’? No talk of the weather and other pleasantries? Just back to business?” She tried to make the words lighthearted and carefree, to get them back to their old bantering ways. She hoped he’d allow it.
A smirk slowly spread across his lips as he leaned on his elbow, his head propped casually on his hand. She had to remind herself how to breathe, which was utterly ridiculous. It wasn’t like she’d never seen him smile before, but after days of seeing nothing but worry and fatigue in his features, this classic smirk of his brought some life back into his eyes and made him look more like the dashing hero than the cruel pirate.
The smirk still played on his lips. “How are you, Aoife? We’re indeed glad to have you back. The weather has been altogether too hot.” He gestured to the paper once again. “Now, draw.”
“I’m—” Fine seemed like an odd word to use when she was still struggling to suppress the images from the other night. So she didn’t bother saying it. “I’m glad to be back.” A light laugh bubbled up from her. He’d played along with her, which was quite unexpected, but not unappreciated. When had she gone from wanting to annoy him to wanting to make him smile?
Back at Lucy’s, she’d tried to stay mad at him but failed. He’d been rude and callous to her before she’d left, but still he’d had Tommy take care of her. Declan had ensured she would have some form of protection. And try as she might, she hadn’t been able to keep from missing him and the ridiculous smirk he wore.
Every time she had walked into the main dining room of Lucy’s, she’d hoped he would be there with Tommy or Gavin. Hoped he’d stop by to see how she was getting on, to make sure she was safe. But he hadn’t, and her heart had sunk a little with every disappointment.
She’d missed him. Beyond her better judgment, and despite the harsh words she’d shot at him right before they parted ways, she had. But now she was here. She could be useful. She could help.
She scooted her chair closer, taking the pen from him. “You have a nice smile, Declan. You should smile more.” She kept her face lowered so he would hopefully not see how she flushed at the words.
“I can’t. It would ruin my reputation.” Was that a hint of humor she detected? She hoped so.
“Well, you can just smile for me when we’re alone then.” Her flush deepened, and she leaned closer to the paper before her.
She began to draw the outlines of the council hall. Each line she created, marking out her old home, tugged at her insides with an intensity she hadn’t expected. She thought she’d gotten past missing home, but then she remembered it hadn’t even been a week since she ran. Such a short time.
She missed these halls, missed Lani, even missed her mother to a point.
Silence settled between her and Declan, but she didn’t know how to fill it, so she kept her mind fixed on the lines she drew, each one adding to her anxiety as the questions swarmed her mind. Would Declan take her ashore when they went back to Cregah? Would she actually walk through the hallways she was marking on the paper? She had asked to be included, after all, but now she wasn’t sure she’d be able to go through with it if he invited her along.
“Why did you run?” Declan asked, his voice low and careful. It was certainly not a question she wanted to answer, especially when she was only barely holding on. She didn’t want to lose it in front of him.
She stopped drawing and looked at him, steeling herself and hoping her voice wouldn’t crack under the emotions. “If you want me to finish this map, you’ll need to find something else to talk about.”
He didn’t respond, and his eyes didn’t leave hers. She couldn’t tell if he was challenging her or if he was merely hoping to find the answers somewhere within her.
She lowered her head again. “I’m sure you can come to your own conclusions.”
“I have considered a few possibilities.” As he talked, she resumed her work, hoping to get this over with so they could move on to other topics like daggers and books. “Perhaps you couldn’t stomach being matched to any of the eligible lords. Which would make sense. Or life at the council hall had become so stiflingly boring that you sought adventure on the seas. Or maybe you’d done something dastardly and were attempting to run away from your own guilt.”
Her hand tightened around the pen, sending the nib ripping through the paper as she pushed down too hard. Dropping the pen, she sat up, pushing away from the desk.
“So that’s it then? Guilt?” Declan’s eyes narrowed at her as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head.
She didn’t say anything, merely stared back at him, trying to find the words to throw in his face, but her mind was drawing a blank. Yet again she was unable to do anything but chide herself for being so obvious and giving away too much.
Declan’s features softened a bit, but his next words came out with an edge. “You don’t have to tell me, of course, but if it has anything to do with the council and my need to get in there to get the fae, it might be best for me to know. Surprises get people killed.”
Aoife looked down at the lines she’d drawn on the paper and swallowed hard. Her mouth went dry, and she fumbled over what to tell him and how to push the words out. After spilling Lani’s secret to her mother and then revealing too much to Lucy about her past, she didn’t trust herself to speak. Why couldn’t there have been classes on tactful speaking, on how to formulate sentences to avoid saying the wrong thing? Those would have been far more helpful than the lessons on the local flora of the island.
Declan’s voice once again cut through her thoughts. “Did you steal jewels from the council ladies? Get caught with one of the pirates during a dinner? Kill someone?”
Her chin shot up then. The smirk he had donned faded in an instant.
“Ah.”
She couldn’t read his expression, couldn’t determine what he thought of her. Would he admire her for having killed someone? He was a pirate, after all. Or would he mock her for having betrayed her country’s dedication to nonviolence? She lowered her eyes, worried—however foolishly—that he could see the betrayal written in the depths of her eyes. “Not exactly.”
“How do you not exactly kill someone?” She could hear that smirk of his in his words.
“I betrayed my sister.” Her voice came out a whisper, scraping against the dryness of her mouth as she spoke. It was the first time she’d given the truth a voice, and the sound of it being uttered for others to hear, no matter how quiet and no matter how small the audience, sent a fresh dagger of guilt straight into her gut.
