Page 56 of Valour

A flash of black hair caught Hester’s eye. Septimus walked through the galley and back down into the hold. She darted after him, halting on the steps before the water. They were alone.

She needed to rope back what was slipping away but wasn’t sure how. “Thank you will be fine.” She leant against the wall with her arms crossed, a forced smile on her face.

“Oh. I didn’t see you there.” He turned to her, and he looked older, his forehead lined. She wanted to smooth her fingers over the wrinkles.

“I am thankful. Of course I am.” He took a step towards her, his eyes haunted. He raked a hand through his unbound hair.

Hester cocked her head, clasping her hands to stop from reaching for him. “Come over to the Valour. Have a rest. Mei will cook.”

He frowned, taking up the pump handle and beginning to work it up and down. “Are you insane? Look at this. It’ll take days to pump dry.”

She hesitated, then splashed down the last few steps and waded over to help. “Well, perhaps it would be good to have a break from it all. To forget for an hour or so. We could get the rum out, have a little fun.”

“Fun? How can you think of having fun? We will all be dead soon enough if we stop to have fun.”

Hester closed her eyes briefly, trying not to take his words personally. He was worried. It was no reflection on whatever he felt for her. Because she was sure he did feel something for her. Fairly sure, anyway. “Septimus, come on. An hour will make no difference. You need to rest.”

He glared at her and continued working the pump. “I cannot rest. Every hour makes a difference. Don’t you understand? This whole business is entirely your fault.”

She clenched her teeth, anger plummeting through her like a bird of prey diving for the kill. “My fault?!” she hissed. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

Clearly, she had been incorrect. He felt nothing for her. And that was fine. She felt nothing for him either.

He snarled, “If you had listened to me and not accepted⁠—”

“Oh, we’re back to that, are we? Back to the patriarchal bullshit.”

He stopped working the handle and stared at her.

“Oh, don’t stop, my lord,” she breathed, a grin creeping over her face. “You’re ever so good at pumping.”

Septimus’s face twisted, and he stabbed a finger towards the steps. “Get out.”

“Do I get a countdown?”

“No.”

She shrugged, shredding up any fantasy she’d ever had that he might care for her. “Pity.”

“That was a mistake.”

The air crackled as Hester snarled back. “Indeed. A huge mistake.”

“You liked me pressing you against the wall well enough, witch,” he spat. “I could hear you panting.”

Hester growled, her teeth bared, the air snapping, power leaching through her carefully erected wall. Outside, the wind began to howl. “Stop it.”

“Why? I’m not afraid of your little weather temper tantrums. You’re just a swaggering idiot who doesn’t know what they’re doing. You’ll be the death of us all.”

Hester’s lips pressed together, trying to keep her cool, but static leapt around the hold, and the wind blew stronger, the rigging clanging far above. She couldn’t keep the magic inside. Couldn’t keep it from spilling out into the world.

Thunder boomed overhead.

“There you are,” a cold voice spoke into her head. “I’ve been waiting for you to show yourself.”

“Oh, God,” Hester said, her eyes widening in horror. This couldn’t be happening.

She grasped Septimus’s arm and breathed deeply, trying to stop the magic that was flooding out of her, trying to rein it in, to plug up the cracks. “Take it back,” she begged.