In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(21)

Lachlan knocked gently on the door. When no answer came, he forced the key into the lock. It gave way with a loud click and then he urged me inside, where he fumbled with the lantern.

It was a small cabin, with only a narrow cot against the wall, a porthole, and a few hooks beside. In the corner was a small shelf where a wash bucket, soap, and razor sat. It was less than half the size of my dressing room in Fort Linum. The sky framed by the porthole was grim and moonless.

As Lachlan hung the lantern on its hook, I heard collective mumbling coming from the deck above. The group spoke in unison, but I could not understand their words. A smattering of claps followed.

“Lachlan…” I lowered myself to the cot, knees feeling suddenly weak. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long at all before you stopped the ship.”

“What time is it?”

Slowly, he turned toward me, a mix of remorse and resolve fixed upon his face. “Our goal was never to stop the wedding, Imogen. The wedding needed to happen to prevent a war. All we need is Halla.”

It felt like my ribs had snapped and punctured my soft heart. I took a moment to find my voice. “I know that. But I… I thought…” I fisted my hands, as a stinging anger began to encase my hurt. “It doesn’t matter what I thought.” I swallowed around the knot in my throat. “You’re a shit, you know.”

Lachlan nodded somberly. “Yeah, I know.”

He’d married her. I struggled to take in a breath, struggled against the brutality of my despair. Theodore had done just as I’d told him to. It was for this reason that I’d taken that draught and severed our bond—so that he might do his duty without me pulling him off course. Because it was right and good. I’d anticipated it would hurt, but this was so much worse than my imaginings. I’d not expected the absolute misery, the betrayal, the searing fury over him doing precisely what I’d wanted.

Lachlan adjusted his coat and said carefully, “You can’t kill her.”

I reared back at his tone. “I beg your pardon?”

He lifted his hands defensively, as if he were wholly innocent of being a right bastard. “Shockingly, you’ve proven to be somewhat untrustworthy in the short time we’ve been reunited, so I feel compelled to make it clear that you cannot, under any circumstances, kill the princess of Obelia.”

My mouth pinched. “I have no intentions of killing her. I need to learn what she knows about Eusia and her mother. We need her to get to Agatha. Why in the bloody Gods would I kill her?”

Lachlan shook his head and absently reached into the pocket of his uniform coat. He pulled out a hunk of bread and tossed it at me. “Oh, I’m not implying you’d do it on purpose. I think you’re more likely to get mad and do it without thinking.”

My cheeks went hot. Crumbs flew over my lap as I tore off a bite of bread. “Fine. I won’t kill her.” The quiet turned uncomfortable as I ate my bread, so I tried to fill it. “How did you know this was the right cabin?”

Lachlan took a knee and relaced his boots. He adjusted the dagger at his waist. “While you slept, I watched the other officers take to their cabins. No one came into this one and I remembered that the man you killed on the forecastle was an officer.” He pointed to the officer’s pin on his lapel.

Affronted, I straightened. “Don’t say you like that. You drew your dagger too.”

“Like any well-trained soldier, I made a thoughtful decision to pull my blade. I considered all the possible outcomes.” Lachlan eyed me and raised his dark brows questioningly. “Did you?”

I took my last bite of bread, gnawing on it with downcast eyes. I hadn’t been thoughtful in my attack of that officer at all. My body had moved faster than my mind. Despite how I’d been so determined to shore myself up and keep myself in line, Lachlan was right. I’d already proven, once more, that my lack of control put everyone in danger.

“All right.” I met his eye. “Then we need to make a pact.”

Lachlan cocked his head, eyes narrowing with caution.

“If I lose control, you need to stop me.”

“Obviously—”

“No.” He stilled at my hard tone. “Let me be clearer. I intend to stay away from Theodore, but if we end up in the same room, you can never leave me. We cannot be alone together. Not even briefly. And if I lose control—if I accidentally use my lure—you have to kill me.”

Lachlan flinched. “Kill you.”

I nodded.

He shook his head, dizzied. “I’m sorry, kill you? This seems a bit extreme.” He scrubbed his face. “You’re asking me to do something that would make my king and close friend and the woman I love abhor me.”

“I suppose I’m soothed by the fact that you have some qualms about this, even if they are entirely personal.”

He huffed a breath, looking miserable. “Can’t I just knock you out?”

I paused and remembered that dream. The surge of hunger that had gripped Eusia’s body. The burn in her jaw at the thought of being fed. I’d felt that same voracious want in her at the thought of having Theodore’s blood.

“No,” I said, quietly, adamantly. “It won’t be enough.”

My voice must have betrayed the depth of my fear, because Lachlan went rigid. “Enough?” It was easy to forget how clever he was when I was perpetually annoyed with him. His look turned keen, and he drew a step nearer to the cot I sat upon. “Why wouldn’t striking you unconscious be enough to keep him safe?”