“Oh, I’m peachy,” he breathes out. “But I want to know how you are.”
I close my eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his hand on my cheek.
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. “Are you asking your captain, or the woman thrown to the Trials?”
He tilts his head, thumb grazing my cheek, his gaze softening, almost… open. “I’m asking the woman who held onto me like I was her last breath,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “The one who makes me want to keep fighting no matter what.”
A laugh, low and bitter, escapes before I can stop it. “That woman?” I shake my head, letting the fire in my chest flare. “She’s furious, Zayan.Beyondanything you can imagine.”
He huffs a small, humorless laugh, eyes narrowing, but there’s something else there, too—a hint of something that makes my pulse race against my will. “That right?”
“Yeah.”
“And why’s that?”
My jaw tightens, heat flooding my face as I lean in, letting him see the sharp edge of what I’ve been holding back. “Because you didn’t even look at me, Zayan. You went in there, knowing you could die, and didn’t give me so much as a glance.”
His grin fades, that cocky confidence slipping, leaving him with an expression I haven’t seen in some time now—real, unguarded, and it cuts deeper than I’d like. He swallows, glancing away, before he finally answers, voice rough. “I… I didn’t want to. Because if I had, I might not have gone through with it.”
“Do you really think I’d want you to stop just because of me?” The words come out sharper than intended. Weak as I’ve felt lately, I’m notthatweak. A captain knows when to steel herself, to keep feelings locked where they belong, well out of reach. Most of the time, anyway.
His hand tightens just slightly on my cheek, something pained flickering in his eyes. “No. But I think if I’d looked at you, I would’ve been too afraid to leave you behind—even for a second. And I couldn’t risk that.”
A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. “And you think I wasn’t scared for you?” The words tumble out, tight, unsteady. “You can’t even imagine.”
He smirks, a faint, tired thing. “Oh, I think I can. How do you think I felt when you took that damned compass from Old Betty and decided to gamble with your life on your own?”
I shift, sitting up, making sure the blanket falls over him and away from me, feeling my heart, bruised and stitched, piece itself together—slowly, haltingly. It’s no miraculous mending. No neat fix. Not when Zayan still looks like death warmed over, his face pale, shadows under his eyes made starker by the flicker of a few stray candles scattered around the room.
Someone must have brought them in when we were asleep.
“That was different,” I say, shaking my head. “Back then, we weren’t…” I pause, searching for the right words, “…we weren’t this close.”
“Come on, love,” he murmurs, “you can’t mean that. Maybe you didn’t care for me much then, but you knew what I felt.”
I stare at him. Every instinct screams that now isn’t the time for this conversation. This isn’t a moment for words; it’s a moment to breathe, to let the reality sink in that he’s alive. Alive and here.
Words like these don’t feel like breathing—they’re suffocating.
But I almost lost him today.
It’s been creeping up on us for a while now, these damn Trials, but when it came down to it, I wasn’t ready. Not to see him laid out, choking on his last breath. Not to imagine him gone.
Time’s a luxury we don’t have. So, I bite.
“You were just thinking about a good lay,” I say, dry as sand. “Afraid you’d lose the best damn fuck of your life, so you got all protective.”
A smirk twitches at his lips, but his eyes narrow. He’s fishing for more, isn’t he? Always wanting to crack this open and dive deep. I’m not good at that. Never have been.
“You’re right—your exquisite pussy is worth it,” he fires back, deadpan. “But we both know it wasn’t just that. You felt it too. And that’s why you got so skittish, isn’t it?”
He’s grinning, but his words slip under my skin. I shrug, meeting his eyes square. “You got close. That’s all it was. Close enough to scare me.”
His hand brushes my face again. “Funny,” he says quietly, “you scared me too.”
I could dodge this, let it roll off, but I hold his gaze. If I’m going to make my own way, I’ve got to get better at this: letting Zayan see the pieces of me. We are raw together, him and I. And damn if it doesn’t feel good.
“Maybe,” I whisper, my voice barely carrying over the thudding of my heart as I lean in, resting my forehead against his. “But don’t get soft. I’m still furious with you for nearly dying. Next time you pull that, I’ll have your hide.”
