In the Wake of the Ruined (The Siren Mage, #2)(73)
Her voice was softer now, rasped and slow. “You will not succeed if you doubt or pause or fret.” Her thumb stroked my knuckles, and then she whispered, even gentler than before, “I see how tired you are. Rest will come. It will. It’s not fair that you must fight so madly for it, but here we are. This will take all your strength, so please, please stop wasting it on me.”
She bobbed her chin. That was that. But she didn’t know how deeply her simple, brusk command touched me. Her grip on me gentled, eyes growing heavy.
“Sleep,” I said. “I’ll wake you when food comes.”
She burrowed her face deeper into the pillow, then popped it up a moment later. “Where’s Lach?”
He was there in a breath. “Here. I’m here.” He pulled back the covers, slipped himself beside her, and looked up at me with wide-eyed awe. In the loudest whisper I’d ever heard, he said, “She wanted me instead of you.”
I huffed a breath and smiled.
I started to leave when Lachlan grabbed my arm and gave it a firm squeeze. He mouthed the words Thank you, then quickly let me go.
“The same to you,” I whispered.
I closed the bedcurtains, heart swelling now that Agatha was warm and safe and cared for, then turned toward the settee. Theodore still sat there, a new wineglass upraised for me. One of the books on magic he’d stolen was propped open on his knee, his eyes darting over the page.
I lingered a moment, watching him. “The hermitess will give you a proper beating with her stick for getting that book wet, you know.”
He gave a half smirk, raised the glass higher, and said in a low, disgruntled voice. “Drink.”
It was a bark of an order, and considering the circumstances, I should have taken it silently, but my exhaustion got the better of me. I dipped into a grand curtsy instead. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
His eyes flicked up to mine. They were dark and troubled, and I understood right away that no jest could buoy his mood. I wrapped my hands around the stem of the wineglass, grazing his fingers softly as I did.
He looked back to the book and patted the cushion beside him. We sat together in a consoling kind of quiet. The sort that let one know there was nothing they needed to do except be. The cabin filled with Agatha’s sleepy breathing. The ship swayed gently as it carved its new path across the sea. I took a sip of the wine. Then another. We sat like that in companionable silence until Theodore finally reached a hand toward my knee. He held it tight and I let myself enjoy the fleeting charge of his touch. I settled my head atop his shoulder, for a moment, content.
I must have fallen asleep there, lulled by the cradle of the water, soothed by Theodore’s warmth and steadiness because when I finally woke again it was full night. Out the windows, the sea was lined in silver, and the sky was clear and vast. I could still hear Lachlan’s and Agatha’s soft snores coming from the bed. Theodore had tucked me in on the settee under a blanket, and as I slowly rose to sit, he was there with a plate of food.
I took it, groggily, and noted that he’d changed his clothes. A heavy cape was pinned under his chin. “Where are you going?” I whispered.
“We,” he said. “Eat up, then put these on.” He set a clean sailor’s uniform on the settee beside me. Then he gathered up the small stack of books that were on the low table and waited for me by the door.
Theodore’s mood had become solemn and thoughtful, and I mulled over the oddity of it as I ate quickly and dressed even faster. When I was ready, he jutted his chin to a chair near the door.
“Put that on.”
Another of his cloaks was draped over the it, his deep-green one, trimmed in gold-threaded vines. I threw it over my shoulders as he watched me intently by the low light of the lantern in his fist. I couldn’t parse that look, but it was dark and unwavering and made my skin flush. When I was ready, he led us out into the night, books and lantern in hand.
The evening was cold, the wind fair and water gentle, which left need for only a small crew. I thought we’d be sneaking over the deck, but Theodore walked straight down its middle, head high, until we reached the ladder of the forecastle. He led us to the bowsprit and nodded to the net below it. “After you.”
The pulse in my middle felt like a temperamental companion now, familiar but still dangerous. My control and confidence in it had grown, but I felt more tenuous on the sea than I did on land. The salt air was a fuel that I wasn’t certain I’d be able to fully douse. “What if I—”
His mouth curved, dimple flashing. “Do you think I’d miss an opportunity to tie you up? There’s some rope down there already.”
We climbed over the rail and settled onto the netting as the ship breathed up and down like a massive beast. The night air bit at our cheeks. Theodore sat close this time and hung the lantern from a little hook beneath the bowsprit that I imagined he’d placed there himself.
The anger I’d felt toward him the first time we’d been here had banked, but in truth, little had changed. There was still no way for us to keep one another, still no guarantee that I could end Eusia without ending myself. It had made me want to keep myself as far as possible from him then, but now the terror and uncertainty made me greedy for as much of him as I could get.
Quiet, thoughtful, with the wind mussing his dark hair, Theodore lifted the rope. “Give me your hands.”
I lifted them and was enthralled by the languid way he brought one of them to his lips. He kissed the end of my fingers before looping the rope around my wrists tormentingly slowly.