Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(61)

“If Tessa is willing,” Corrick says.

“Of course,” I say. Sablo. I remember the large, red-bearded man from dinner. He couldn’t speak. I didn’t realize until now that I haven’t seen him on the main deck this morning.

“He always takes the night watch,” Rian says. “But he should be awake by now. We can head below.” He regards Corrick coolly. “You’re welcome to join us.”

The prince regards him coolly right back. “Am I?”

“Let’s see to Sablo,” I say brightly, before the two of them can start a fight. “I’ll have to go to my room to get my bag.”

“I’ll escort you,” Corrick says. “Surely the captain would like to offer his officer a bit of warning. And Miss Cade can give me the details of her morning.”

Miss Cade would like to go back to sitting by the mast.

Rian’s eyes shift to mine, seeking acquiescence.

I hesitate, then nod. “Maybe we can return here,” I say. “Or your stateroom, Rian—ah, Captain. For the sunlight. If it needs stitching.”

“Certainly.”

Corrick offers me his arm, and I don’t want to take it. For him, it’s probably nothing. Courtly manners.

But for me, it feels personal. Intimate.

So much changed between us overnight—and unlike stitching up an arm, I don’t know how to fix it. I gingerly rest my fingertips on his sleeve, and it reminds me of my first day in the palace, when he was my worst nightmare and my greatest ally all rolled into one man.

When we turn away, I sense the eyes of the crew on us, but I can’t focus on any of that. I’m focused on the prince at my side, whose emotions are all a mystery.

Well, most of them. His emotions about the captain aren’t a mystery at all.

We’re barely down the steps and out of earshot when I whisper, “He just stopped a fight, and I thought you were going to start one.”

“Good morning to you, too, Miss Cade.” Corrick isn’t whispering at all. “It sounds as though you are about to start one.”

I scowl. “Of course not.” I try to make my voice as cool as his, but I just sound like I’m mocking him. “Good morning, Your Highness.”

“And by he, do you refer to Rian?” He pauses dramatically. “Ah, do forgive me. Captain Blakemore.”

My cheeks are flaming entirely against my will. I let go of his arm.

“What fight did he stop?” Corrick asks. Some of the chill has slipped out of his voice, and genuine curiosity has slid in to replace it.

“Lochlan had a bit of an altercation.”

Corrick’s eyes flick skyward. “You don’t say.”

“It sounds like a crewman started it.”

“See? I won’t need to throw him overboard. The captain will end up doing it for me.”

I frown and say nothing.

“I’m kidding,” he says.

“Well, forgive me for not being sure.” We reach my door, and I push through.

Corrick follows me in, letting the door fall shut behind him, closing Kilbourne in the hallway—and us into this room. He leans back against the door and folds his arms, looking as darkly dangerous as ever.

I ignore him.

He doesn’t return the favor. “Kilbourne told me you were climbing the masts with the captain this morning.”

“I was.” I find my apothecary kit by the end of my bed, and I take a moment to eat one of Karri’s peppermints. The bag is all I really came here for, but Corrick doesn’t move away from the door.

I set my shoulders and look at him. “The captain was checking the sails, and I was wondering how difficult it was. Do you find that hard to believe?”

“That you were curious, or that you were fearless?”

“Both.”

“I watched you stop a revolution.” His eyes hold mine. “I don’t find either option hard to believe.”

Something in his tone makes me shiver.

“You don’t like him,” I say. “I don’t understand why.”

“It doesn’t matter if I like him. I’m not sure I can trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone,” I scoff.

Those words hit him in a way I don’t expect, and I’m not entirely sure how I can tell, but they do. Maybe it’s a little flinch in his eyes, like he’s taken a blow he wasn’t ready for.

“I didn’t mean that as an offense, Your Highness.”

I say it lightly, but a muscle twitches in his jaw, and I regret calling him that. He says nothing.

With a start, I realize that maybe I’ve found myself on the list of people he doesn’t trust.

I pat my bag. “We should go up.”

He straightens, drawing the door open, ever the gentlemen. “After you, Miss Cade.”

I move to stride past him, but the prince catches my arm, drawing me to a stop. My breath stops and my heart kicks, but his hand is gentle, warm against my sleeve.

“Wait,” he says quietly. “Please, Tessa.”

He said it last night, too, and I didn’t listen. I was too flushed. Too embarrassed. Too angry.

Today, I stop, and I look up. The prince’s eyes burn into mine, but his voice is low, even and formal. “We allowed Lochlan to come because Harristan believed it would be seen as a gesture of goodwill—and would also prevent him from organizing another rebellion in my absence.” He pauses. “So Lochlan is right that our invitation was not wholly altruistic. But I did not bring him with the intention of killing him conveniently. Last night, I was apprehensive about the trip, about the captain’s motives, about my brother and his … Well.” He frowns and runs a hand back through his hair. “I saw Lochlan looming over you in the hallway, and my temper got the best of me. Forgive me. Please.”