Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(60)

“Lochlan.” Rian’s voice is low and lacking in force, but there’s something in his tone that demands attention. A confidence. A sureness.

It’s effective, because Lochlan sets his jaw and looks up. I don’t know if he expects a rebuke or a punishment, but his eyes are belligerent, the way he looks at Corrick. “What?”

“I saw you hauling lines with the crew.” He pauses, looking at Lochlan’s wrist, which is still bandaged from when it was broken. “Your arm doesn’t give you any trouble?”

The question must be unexpected, because Lochlan blinks. “I do all right. I don’t mind the work.”

“Well, I appreciate the extra hands. I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.” Rian looks at the others. “The rest of you better finish with the fish or you’ll have Dabriel up here next.”

I only met the cook for a minute this morning, but the threat of her temper must be unifying, because the men grunt and edge around Lochlan and return to their positions, even Brock. Their tension seems forgotten.

Lochlan stands in their midst, but the belligerence has slid out of his expression. He glances from the men to the captain like he’s not sure how to proceed.

Tor looks up at him. “Come on, man. I’ll tell you about the time Brock was trying to convince a pretty girl to dance, and he nearly shat himself. Right there on the dance floor. Cleared the whole place out.”

Brock picks up a knife and sighs with the weariness of someone who’s heard an embarrassing story one too many times. “You’re in front of a lady, Tor.”

“It was your own fault. I told you it weren’t safe to drink that spiced rum on Iris.” Tor glances at me and grimaces. “Sorry, Miss Cade.”

Lochlan sits down next to Tor a little uncertainly, but he picks up a fish and takes a knife when another crewman hands one over.

He looks up at Rian. “Thank you, Captain.” He hesitates. “Sorry for the trouble.”

I freeze. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a genuine apology out of Lochlan’s mouth.

But Rian just says, “No trouble.” His voice is easy. Genuinely appreciative.

I almost want to stare at him. I think I am staring at him.

He finally turns away from his crew. “Miss Cade. I’m glad to find you still on the deck. I was wondering if you would—” He must catch my expression, because he breaks off. “What?”

“I—that—just—” I can’t form a coherent question. “I thought they were going to start stabbing each other. How did you stop that?”

He shrugs it off. “That was just a little bit of pride.”

I study him, considering the times I’ve seen Corrick and Lochlan face off. The prince is the one who first broke his wrist, but now doesn’t seem the time to volunteer that information.

I lower my voice. “I’ve never seen Lochlan back down. I thought you’d have to …” I rack my brains for a punishment I’ve heard of on a ship. “I don’t know. Chain him to the bow.”

He laughs a little, but not like anything is really funny. “And you ask why I worried about putting you in harm’s way.”

“What?”

“I imagine your King’s Justice very well would have chained him to the bow. He probably would have done worse. And for what? Getting upset over a few careless words?” His eyes flick to his crew. Lochlan is laughing at something Tor has said now. “We’re one day out of port. If I start hanging men overboard, it would make for a very uncomfortable journey. For my people and yours.”

I think of the way his men went back to their tasks so readily. The way he said no one fights on my ship. Even I was ready to break up the fight with force, calling for Silas automatically, but Rian defused the entire situation with a few words.

It’s not just that his people are loyal. They trust him.

Like this morning on the ropes, I’m in danger of blushing at him. I look away, just as the boat dips and sways, and my breath catches. I put out a hand automatically, catching his arm. It’s warm and sturdy, and again, I remember falling against him last night, in the rain.

Then I remember what he started to say. I have to clear my throat. “What … ah, what were you wondering?”

“Yes, Captain.” Corrick speaks from off to my right. “What were you wondering?”

Of course.

I turn and look at the prince. Last night, Corrick’s eyes were a little wild, every emotion plain on his face. Today, he’s locked down, as severe as ever. He’s wearing a hip-length leather jacket that’s such a deep brown that it’s almost black. Every button and buckle is in place, his vivid blue eyes sharp and expressionless. I think of the way he took me in his arms, and I want to shiver. That Corrick is nowhere to be found.

I don’t know what to say to him. Too much time has passed now. Do I owe him an apology? Does he owe me one?

His expression doesn’t change, but I see the tiny movement of his eyes as he takes in my hand on Rian’s arm. I unclench my fingers from the captain’s sleeve.

“Sablo cut his arm on a bit of rigging,” Rian is saying. “He’s refusing any stitching, but as we have an apothecary on board, I said I would ask you to look at it.” He pauses and glances at Corrick. “With your permission, Your Highness.”