I flinch at the sound of his voice—at how the normally sleek cadence, the alluringly smooth tone, is now strained and weak. I scramble over to where I dropped the canteen. When I turn back to him, Niko has squeezed his eyes shut once more in an attempt to swallow, his throat working like even the small act is unbearably painful.
Clutching the canteen awkwardly, I debate whether to shove it into his hands or somehow help him drink. I’ve never played nursemaid to anyone but myself, and as my only patient, I can confidently say my bedside manner is absolute shit.
But then Niko’s eyes open, and he reaches out a gloved hand for the water, sparing me from having to pretend to know how to take care of someone. Without bothering to sit up, he takes a few careful sips before handing it back to me. His fingers spasm and he grits his teeth, as some of the water splashes over both our hands.
His eyes flutter shut once more, and he’s quiet so long, I’m certain he’s fallen back asleep. Just when I’ve relaxed, relieved I’ve avoided what is sure to be an unpleasant conversation, he asks hoarsely, “What happened?”
“You—you collapsed. On the beach…after—well, after everything.” I twist my hands in front of me, wondering how much to say. It probably isn’t wise to remind him the only reason we’d been on the beach in the first place was because I hadn’t heeded his warnings about the dangers of Letum.
“Some of the Strayed escaped, and I didn’t want them to come back and find us.” I shrug with a casualty I don’t feel. “So…I dragged you into this cave.”
Niko blinks up at the ceiling for a few long moments, before tilting his head once more to the side. Unfettered rage flashes over his features as his gaze finds the shadows of the ship’s mast. It’s gone as quickly as it came, and he lets out an abrupt scraping sound that could be a laugh.
“No matter how far I go, I always seem to end up in the belly of the crocodile again.”
I furrow my brows, staring at him uncertainly. “There are…crocodileshere?”
It wouldn’t surprise me, given everything else I’ve already encountered in Letum. But a different worry threads through me that has nothing to do with giant reptiles. Worry that the strain of what Niko’s been through tonight has damaged something irrevocably; that he isn’t thinking clearly.
With great effort, Niko turns his head away from the ship, his eyes finding mine once again. They’re rimmed with exhaustion, a stark red against the harrowing black, his normally handsome face sallow and wrung out.
“Don’t worry, Darling,” he laughs harshly. “The caveisthe crocodile.”
I follow his gaze to the black stalactites hanging down from the ceiling. Theyareeerily similar to teeth, glistening in the blue light like the dripping maw of an ancient beast.
Niko’s eyes fall shut once more. “It ate that ship. A very long time ago.” A cough rattles through him, and my chest tightens even as he continues dreamily, “It eats time itself.”
He sounds so unbearably sad, so unlike the arrogant, cruel king he usually is, that for an absurd moment, I want desperately to reach out and touch him. To reassure myself with the steady beat of his heart. To reassure him with the beat of mine.
“Did I—did I do something wrong by bringing you here?”
“No, Willa. You did everything right.” When his eyes close this time, they don’t reopen again. His breath rattles in his chest, andmy anxiety rises as I watch it. Like if I tear my gaze away, even for a moment, the breaths will stop entirely.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask in a small voice.
A ghost of a smile pulls at Niko’s mouth. “Are any of us?”
Chapter seventeen
Niko sleeps for hours.
Thankfully, he doesn’t seize again, but his slumber isn’t a peaceful one. Sweat beads along his brow, and I spend far more time than I care to admit watching his spasming fingers and debating whether or not to reach out and hold them. Debating whether it would bring him comfort or pain. In the end, fear keeps my own hands tucked in my lap.
Though I try not to examine what exactly it is that I fear.
Him.
But it isn’t him. Not really. If it was, if I was truly afraid of what Niko will do to me when he wakes, I’d already be gone. And yet something has kept me glued to his side, measuring the rhythms of his breath, the pallor of his skin, even as the tide slowly rises, effectively cutting us off from the outside world.
Time passes oddly in the belly of the cave. The twinkling lights never change, the only indication minutes pass at all being the slow rise of the water. It laps gently against the keel of the ship, the sound so rhythmic, it reminds me of the second hand on aclock. Exhaustion spills through me as I listen to the soft tick, and after a while, I lean my head back against the curved rock wall and close my eyes.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I’m awoken by the slithering of Niko’s ribbons. My eyes flare open, my hand going instinctively to my sword, but the ribbons pay me no mind. They writhe in excitement, swirling through the air eagerly as their king slowly pushes himself up to a sitting position. His hair is mussed, his silk shirt pulled taut with sleep and sweat across the muscles of his chest. As he rubs viciously at his eyes and forehead like the action will soothe away the memories of the past few hours, I take a moment to enjoy his disarray.
From the moment we met, everything about Niko has been neatly cut, like the sharp, clean edge of a blade. His messiness now is oddly enamoring—a rare secret.
When he finally pulls his hands away from his face, he turns to stare at the ghostship. The tide is higher than when I fell asleep, the waters now mostly covering the keel, lapping up toward the hull. A dark shadow of emotion flickers over the king’s face as he drinks in the majestic lines of the vessel, his expression somehow both volatile and intimate at once.
It’s the latter that has me clearing my throat to remind him of my presence. Whatever Niko’s feelings about this cave and that ship, they aren’t meant for me.
