Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(78)

I expect him to flinch, but he doesn’t. “Is that truly what you think?”

“It’s exactly what you did, Corrick.”

“I’ll grant you that the action is true.” He takes a step closer to me. “Yet not the motivation.”

He’s so close that I can feel his warmth. My emotions are all tangled up.

He takes advantage of my indecision to move a step closer. When he speaks, his voice is low and sure. “I’m going to say something that could sound very arrogant, and very cruel,” he says. “So before I do, I want to make sure you understand that I am speaking them as … as a truth. As a statement of fact.” He brushes a lock of hair out of my eyes. “Not a means to cause harm.”

I swallow, but he waits until I nod. I have to brace myself. “Go ahead.”

He leans in to whisper, so there’s no chance of our words being overheard by anyone but the wind and sky. “You’ve known me for a long time. There have been many nights between us. Many times we were alone. Out of the public eye, as you say.”

His voice is low and husky and familiar, and I shiver even as my cheeks catch on fire.

Then he adds, “If all I wanted was to get under your skirts, I could have had you, ready and willing, at any moment of my choosing.”

I jerk back so sharply that I almost lose my balance. I’m flushed, gasping with sudden fury. My fingernails are curled into my palms so hard that I’m in danger of drawing blood.

I can’t decide if I hate him, or if I just hate that he’s right.

“I warned you,” he says.

“So gallant,” I say, seething.

“Gallant?” His eyebrows go up. “Do forgive me if my ideas of gallantry do not align with your own. Would you rather I had made better use of our table in the workshop? I seem to recall you throwing yourself at me on more than one occasion.”

I must be so red I could be a beacon. There’s a good chance I’m going to punch him in the crotch again, or possibly draw that dagger that’s belted to his hip. Or maybe I’ll just smack him square in the face. All three. All at once. Rocco’s going to have to drag me off him.

But Rian speaks from behind me. “Problems, Miss Cade?”

“No,” I grind out.

“Miss Cade was having a difficult time remembering the intricacies of our past interactions,” says Corrick. “I simply offered a reminder.”

“Did she want one?”

“I rather doubt it’s any of your business,” Corrick says, and his voice has gone a bit dry, “but she quite clearly offered me an invitation.” He says it like he’s implying something else.

That’s it. I swing a fist.

Rian steps in front of Corrick, deflecting my strike a bit, but I wasn’t expecting it, and I catch the captain in the shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I gasp.

He takes hold of my wrist gently, but his voice is firm. “Don’t hit him.”

“I don’t need you to defend me,” says Corrick, and that’s probably true. Rocco has moved closer, and it’s clear he’s paying close attention to this interaction.

“I’m not defending you,” says Rian.

“No one fights on your ship,” I say hollowly. “Again, I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t worried about the fighting. I wasn’t sure what the response would be if you’d landed that punch.”

That thought sends a chill up my spine. I take a step back, and I have to rub at my arms to shake off the shiver.

Corrick watches the motion. “Your concerns are misplaced, Captain. Tessa has struck me before. I’ve never retaliated.” He pauses. “Perhaps a reminder of that is in order as well, Miss Cade.”

Also true.

I don’t know how we got here. It’s like Weston Lark and Prince Corrick have split into two different people again, as if the friendly, roguish outlaw really is a man who was killed by the cruel prince in front of me.

But they’re not, and it takes more effort to remember that than it should. I have to take a deep breath. “He’s right,” I say to Rian. “He wouldn’t hurt me.” I sound like I need to convince myself, and I hate it. I turn a glare on Corrick. “Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to hit you.” My cheeks redden again, completely against my will. “But you shouldn’t have said … that.”

Rian looks between the two of us. “What did he say?”

“That is a private matter between us, Captain,” Corrick says. “Surely you have duties that we’re preventing you from completing.”

“I’m completing them right now. Gwyn told me you don’t want to dock in Port Karenin anymore.”

“I’m not having you return to Ostriary with stories of how the king’s brother was intractable and obstinate.”

Rian folds his arms. “You think he won’t figure it out on his own?”

“I got on the ship with you,” Corrick says. “Rather quickly, in fact, and at no small expense. I’m continuing the journey, despite your refusal to be forthright with me about what you might have on board this vessel. My people have caused no trouble, and you’ve made great use of my apothecary for your own needs, finding no objection from me.” Corrick takes a step forward, and the air crackles with animosity. “I am not a pretentious man, Captain. I should hope that’s rather obvious. But I am the King’s Justice, and I am second in line to the throne of Kandala. You may not agree with our laws, and you may not agree with my judgments, but I have brought no harm to your ship or your crew. I am not a criminal, and I am rather done being treated as one.”