Thorne stepped back, returning his hands to their natural posture behind his back. "I’ll be on the quarterdeck should you require anything."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "We won’t."
Grabbing Vivienne’s elbow, Lewis pulled her toward the stairs leading below deck.
She ripped her arm free, scowling. "Gods, Lewis, what is your problem?"
He huffed, his shoulders tight with tension. "What’s myproblem?" He shot her a serrated look as they cleared the first staircase. "The commander has been a complete bastard to us from the moment we met him. Now, suddenly, he’s concerned about your hands? Which are only like that because of the choresheassigned. That doesn’t make him nice,Vivienne."
She stopped mid-step, glaring at him and recoiling at his use of her full first name, something he only did when he was really upset. “Vivienne, huh? Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”
Lewis rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I told you we would do this together..." He hesitated, forcing his clenched hands to relax. "But I’ve barely seen you since we got on this floating torture chamber."
Her irritation softened. "Oh," she murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. "I wasn’t expecting the assignment thing either. I’m sure once we reach the island?—"
"Not to mention," he cut in, his tone sharpening, "Cirrus and the commander are all over you."
Vivienne stared, taken aback. "What?"
Lewis let out a short, dry laugh. "What the everdark is your ex-fiancé doing on this ship, anyway?"
She shrugged. "I guess the kingdom only has so many egotistical maniacs to go around."
"Lucky us." He shook his head, frustration rolling off him in waves.
Her mind caught on his earlier words.Cirrus and the commander are all over you. All over me?
She had expected Cirrus to turn on the charm—it was his default setting, after all. But Thorne? She frowned, replaying her interactions with the commander.
Lewis sighed, watching her closely. "Look, I know you can handle yourself, but that doesn’t mean I have to like watching it happen."
Vivienne tilted her head, searching his face.Watching what happen?There was something buried in his irritation.
She tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. "Cirrus is a jerk, and the commander is… a different kind of a jerk. But you don’t have to protect me."
Lewis studied her for a moment, his golden-brown eyes conflicted, before letting out a slow breath. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t going to spell it out.
Without another word, he stepped around the barrels and headed into the ship’s hold.
Vivienne lingered for a beat, watching his retreating back, a strange unease curling in her chest.
16
The shifts with Laverna Omphrey and Florence Solandis had been wordless and stiff, each interaction weighed down by the unspoken tension between Vivienne and Lewis. Even their usual sarcastic banter had dried up, replaced by the monotonous scrape of their fingers against tin plates as they picked at reheated stew for lunch.
Two hours of dish duty passed in complete silence.This has to be some kind of record.Vivienne couldn't remember the last time they'd gone this long without talking—unless one of them was asleep.
When Commander Thorne switched the rotation, sending Lewis to work with Cirrus while Vivienne shadowed Dr. Mercer, she practically ran down the stairs.Finally, some space.
Dr. Mercer caught sight of her from the infirmary doorway, her full lips curving into a bright, dazzling smile. "Ah, Banner! Let's get you acquainted with my home away from home."
The infirmary, tucked near the bow of the Orlop Deck, was designed for quiet and order. Along one wall, narrow cots nestled into alcoves, and in the center, a broad wooden table stood under the glow of a swinging lantern. Opposite the beds, rows of cabinets and drawers lined the wall, filled with medical supplies, the scalpels gleamed under the dim light.
"The inventory is checked daily," Dr. Mercer explained, opening one of the cabinets with a flick of her wrist. "Anything missing would mean someone took it without permission."
Vivienne nodded, taking a seat across from her at the central table. She rolled bandages with methodical precision as Melodie counted and sorted surgical tools, her deft hands moving with choreographed ease.
A glint of silver caught Vivienne’s eye. She gestured toward the pendant around the doctor's neck, its surface engraved with the sigil of the goddess of healing and mercy.
