A figure I don’t expect enters.
I know how to recognize people by their shapes and the padding of their feet. It’s a survival skill I developed at an early age.
Which is why I know with certainty that Kearan arrives in the galley alone.
My mind races with possibilities. Is he here to get into the rum where no one can see? Was the sobriety all a ruse? Or is he here to eat more than his share of the food? Or … what else? I didn’t peg him as one to poison the crew or anything else, but— He doesn’t go for the locked pantry in the back. No, he sits on one of the benches nailed to the floor, rests his elbows on his lap, and leans forward.
After a few beats of immobility, he turns his head right in my direction. I don’t move, certain he can’t possibly see me in the darkness.
“Thought you might like some company,” he says.
When I say nothing in response, entertaining the notion that he’s added sleepwalking to sleep talking, he asks, “Captain?”
My heart beats a rapid rhythm, though I am not afraid. Merely irritated.
How did he see me?
“When have I ever given the impression that I want your company?” I ask.
He turns his gaze down to his lap. “Don’t you ever get bored all alone in the dark?”
“No.”
“You like your thinking time?”
“No.”
Definitely not that. I loathe reminiscing about myself or my past. My entire family was murdered before my eyes, and I have spent over a decade trying to forget those memories.
“Then what?” he asks.
“None of your business. How did you know I was in here?”
“I didn’t see you go into your quarters for the night.”
“You’re watching me?”
“Just observant, Captain.”
Liar. “That still doesn’t explain how you knew I was in here.”
He shrugs. “I saw you.”
“You couldn’t have.”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “The rest of the crew haven’t a clue that you spy on them. I only found you now because I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
He shrugs as though he thinks the question trivial.
It is anything but. I want to snap at him for making a habit of watching me, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Doing anything other than responding to him with my usual tone would only please him.
So I remain silent. It’s what I’m best at.
Except, instead of relishing in the quiet as I usually do, there’s a buzzing in my head. Something grating and irritating. It takes me far too long to realize the silence is making me uncomfortable.
You can’t be afraid of the dark when you’re the monster lurking in the shadows.
You can’t be uncomfortable if no one knows you’re there.
Yet he knows.
He’s here.
And he’s waiting as though he has all the time in the world.
Though the silence makes my skin itch, I refuse to be the one to break it. Then he would think I want to talk to him, and I can’t allow that.
“My first time on a ship,” he says, “I was just a boy. I was so nervous and unsure of what to say or do around all the men. I would hide. Listen to what everyone around me said and did. It was a comfort to learn that way. To observe without being seen.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I know. I’m just making conversation.”
Damn him. Now the record needs to be set straight. “People are patterns. They do the same things. Make the same choices. When you learn the patterns, you learn to anticipate what they’ll do. It’s how I can be prepared for potential threats. I observe so I can protect.”
“What are my patterns?” he asks.
“Drinking, snoring, drinking, eating, drinking, yelling at Enwen.”
“Those are my old patterns. I don’t drink anymore. What are my new ones?”
I open my mouth but close it immediately. Because I realize I don’t know the answer to that. I watched him for so long for Alosa. I had no interest once it was no longer my job. I knew his patterns. I knew exactly what to expect from him.
That’s why I can’t stand him.
But now he’s different, and I don’t know him at all. I really don’t want to, either. But I need to as captain of this ship.
Shit.
I’ve gone too long without answering, so he says, “You’re doing a great job as captain, you know. It’s no wonder Alosa holds you in such high regard.”
Ugh, he’s complimenting me. “Yet I can’t fathom why she’s allowed you to remain among us.”
“I’m a seasoned helmsman, and I don’t cause trouble.”
“Not for Alosa.”
Kearan sits up, places his elbows on the table behind him, and leans backward. “Has there been a complaint made about me on this ship?”
“Not formally.” After all, who would I make a complaint to? I’m the captain.
“Sorinda—” he starts.
“Captain,” I correct.
“Captain,” he amends, “I’m truly sorry if I’ve done anything to offend. I would like there to be peace between us so we can effectively carry out this mission.”
“There is to be nothing between us.”
Shit again.
My voice came out too harsh. He’ll know I’m incensed, that he has an effect on me.
Kearan scoffs. “You think an awful lot of yourself. Sorinda, I want nothing between us.”
The force of my glare is probably lost somewhat in the near darkness, but I’m sure he can guess my expression and my thoughts.
“Captain,” I remind him through gritted teeth.
“Captain, stop flattering yourself.”
“I—You—” I break off abruptly. I’m certain I’ve never stuttered before in my life, and I can’t imagine why I’m starting now. When I can collect myself, I begin again. “You told Alosa you would only join her crew if I was the one in charge of watching you during your probationary period.”
“I was a drunk. I said and did stupid things. I thought Enwen was good company, for stars’ sake. My judgment was altered.”
“Are you saying I’m only appealing to you when you’re drunk?”
A silence so thick I could cut it with my rapier fills the galley. Why did I suggest something so stupid?
“I’m saying I’m stone-cold sober now. I’m different.”
“Why?” I ask to change the subject.
“Why am I different when I’m sober?”
“Why are you sober now?”
Kearan says nothing for so long that I wonder if maybe he’s fallen asleep. Then, “That’s your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You dumped my flasks of rum overboard.”
“I’m to believe you were helpless to procure more?”
“No, it was a gesture that showed me you cared whether or not I was sober. You cared about me. So I did my best to quit and clean myself up.”
“Care?” I ask. “I don’t care about you. I did it because you stank, your teeth were yellow from the indulgence, and I knew it would piss you off. It was amusing to me, a way to give myself a reprieve from your stench.”