The cabin was small but serviceable. A single bunk was mounted to the left wall, with shelves and hooks for storage. A wash basin and a small barrel of freshwater sat beneath a glazed porthole window, allowing muted sunlight to filter in. A wooden writing desk and chair were bolted to the floor, positioned near her trunk.
It was simple but infinitely better than a hammock in a crowded room.
Thorne stood at the threshold, his extended arm holding the door open. "If, after unpacking, you’d prefer your trunk in the hold for more space, I’ll summon a crew member."
Vivienne offered a genuine smile, stepping closer to the doorway. "Thank you. This will be perfect."
"My pleasure, Miss Banner." Thorne tipped his head slightly, still holding the door open.
She hesitated. "You can call me Vivienne."
His jaw tensed, and his expression cooled. "Miss Banner, aboard this ship, we maintain propriety. At the very least, I do my best to set an example of decorum."
Her cheeks warmed, the moment not landing as she’d intended. "Noted," she murmured, avoiding his gaze as she made to step into the room.
"Miss Banner."
She stopped short, surprised to find him sharing the limited space of the doorway. For the first time, she noticed his scent—cedar and salt, clean and crisp, like a storm just before it broke.
"The captain has called a meeting after lunch," he said, voice lower than before. "Report to his quarters by 1:30 p.m."
Vivienne nodded, her eyes catching his. Flecks of burgundy and gold glinted from the depths of espresso irises.
She swallowed, trying to clear the sudden dryness. "I’ll be there."
A voice drawled from the hallway. Smooth, cocky, and unmistakable.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Vivienne exhaled sharply as Cirrus strode toward her quarters.
"Of course not," Commander Thorne's tone snapped back to its usual crispness as he cleared his throat and took a step back. "Meeting at 1:30 p.m.," he repeated, directing the reminder toward Cirrus.
Cirrus gave a mocking salute, his ice-blue gaze flickering between Thorne and Vivienne. "Yes, sir."
Vivienne watched Thorne retreat, his broad frame disappearing into the officer’s quarters two doors down, the door clicking shut behind him.
She turned back to Cirrus, now leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He watched her with an expression she couldn’t place.Is that expectation? A challenge? The thrill of my misery?
"I have to unpack," she said flatly, gripping the door and beginning to close it.
Cirrus' hand shot out, palm firm against the wood, keeping it from shutting. "Gods, Vivienne, can you at least say hello?"
She plastered on the most insincere smile she could muster. "Fine.Hello."
She pushed the door again, but Cirrus held steady, irritation flashing in his eyes.
"Not a single word from you in three years," he said, voice dipping low, "and now you show up on the same ship I’m assigned to and you won’t even talk to me?"
Vivienne gritted her teeth.Of all the ships, of all the voyages, of all the people.
Realizing he wouldn’t budge, she swung the door open wider, arms folding tight across her chest. "What is there to talk about?" Vexation vibrated in her words. "Nothing about our situation has changed, has it?"Except for the part where I’m now stuck at sea with you.
For a moment, Cirrus said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then his voice dropped, losing some of its usual playfulness. "Not exactly," he admitted, then hesitated. "But… Banns?—"
"Ugh." Vivienne pinched the bridge of her nose. "Don’t call me that."
Cirrus sighed dramatically, shaking his head. "We’re going to have to work this out at some point," he said, leaning in, his chiseled features now dangerously close. "We’re assigned together for months.Maybe years."
