To his annoyance, Jem seemed intent on following him. "Don't you have something to do?" he barked over his shoulder.
"Short John and Longest John are overseeing our withdrawal. John Paul is at the helm, and Richards is keeping watch."
"And you're not doing any of those things because…?"
"A good leader delegates." Jem sped around him and opened Casper's cabin door for him, ushering him inside as if he were some kind of dignitary. "Besides, part of my job as your first mate is to ensure that you're doing your job."
Casper rolled his eyes. The air was warmer inside, out of the biting wind, and he tossed his jacket and hat onto his mattress as he made his way across the small room to his desk. He unceremoniously shoved aside stacks of books and parchments, revealing a crude, pieced-together map. It wasn't as accurate as he would have liked, lacking the proper equipment to measure distance accurately, but it was enough. They had sailed the Winter seas for so long that he knew most of the shoreline by heart. The map just served to help jog his memory.
"I am doing my job."
"No, you're doing penance. And you’re dragging us all along with you."
Casper froze, gripping the edges of the desk as he bent over the map. Guilt twisted his heart with a vice-like hold. He swallowed and took a deep breath, working his jaw in an effort to keep his voice even. "I see."
"I don't think you do."
He barked a humorless laugh. "No, I think you laid it out quite clearly. If that's the way you and the rest of the crew feel, you're more than welcome to take over." Casper stared at the map with unfocused eyes.
I can't blame them. Their futures—their families—were all stolen away because of me. It's more surprising that it's taken this long for them to say something.
Jem let out a long, exhausted sigh. "I knew this was how it was going to go. Casper, no one is questioning your ability to lead. You're our captain; we'll follow you."
Casper pushed off from the desk and turned around, crossing his arms defensively. His first mate was standing in the middle of the dusty cabin, one arm over his chest and supporting the other as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes were closed, and his mouth pinched together in a flat line. Looking straight at him was like looking through a window of stained glass, and he could see the line of the door and corner of the bed behind him. "First you tell me that I'm not doing my job, then you say that I'm your captain. Which is it? Stop talking in riddles, Jem."
His friend's eyes opened, and he dropped his hand. Before the curse, Jem's eyes had been a shade of brilliant sky blue. Now they were muted and gray. "I'm not talking in riddles. I'm being completely transparent." He held his arms out to the side with a grin. "As I usually am."
Casper huffed in amusement at the joke, and some of the tension fell from his shoulders. The side of his lips pulled up in a wry smirk. "Transparent doesn't mean clear. Just spit out whatever it is you're trying to say."
Jem straightened, suddenly all business. "Seven years are almost up again."
Casper groaned inwardly, suddenly understanding where the conversation was going.
"They're almost up, and yet you still haven't made plans to go ashore."
"I've been a bit busy, in case you haven't noticed. More storms this time of year means more shipments coming through the breach. We've already had too many slip through our fingers."
"Look, Casp. We all agree with you that the smugglers need to be stopped and innocent lives protected. We're all with you on that."
"I'm sensing a 'but'..."
"But this life—sailing endlessly with never a destination in sight, never being able to call someplace home—is not a life. It's an existence."
Casper opened his mouth to apologize, but Jem silenced him with a hand. "And before you go on and start beating yourself up again for the curse, please recall that it wasn't you who cursed us. We were all tricked, and we all suffered the consequences. But you're the only one who can break it, and some of the crew are starting to get concerned that you don't appear to be as serious about working to break it as before."
Casper groaned and shoved his fingers into his hair, pulling at the ends and causing the dark locks to stick straight up. "What's the point, Jem? I'm convinced she put that clause about undoing it as a way to drive home every time just how hopeless it all is. Seven days isn't long enough to fall in love, and how am I supposed to convince a woman to stay true when I will immediately leave again for seven years?"
"I'll admit, it does seem like a difficult task—"
"Impossible, more likely," Casper muttered, dropping his hands heavily to his sides.
"—but that doesn't mean you shouldn't try. I knew as soon as I met her that my Anja was the one for me." Jem's face softened at the memory of his wife, and Casper felt a renewed sense of guilt at the reminder of all that his crew had been forced to leave behind.
"Anja was a jewel among women," Casper said quietly. "But not only am I on a timeline, but we're also in Faerie now. You know how they view humans here. Almighty knows the chancesof finding a fae woman and convincing her to marry me are slim to none."
Jem straightened his spine, drawing himself up to a height that was just a hair taller than Casper. "You're right; the Almighty does know. He knows exactly how this will play out. Maybe the curse is never broken, and we spend the rest of eternity sailing the cold winter seas wreaking havoc on the greedy fae. Or maybe there is a woman out there who can break the curse and she's just waiting for your ship to pull into harbor. The Almighty already knows, so what are you afraid of?"
"Failing—again." Casper answered honestly. "I'm afraid of coming back after the week is over and having to look you all in the eyes and admit that, once again, I have failed you."
