'I have great faith in you, Althea. You've stood beside me and we've faced crimpers and serpents… We put this damn ship back in the water together. But during the battle, I just…' His voice tightened in his throat. 'I can't do this,' he said suddenly. He lay his hands, palms up, on the table and studied them. 'I can't go on like this anymore.'
'What?' She spoke slowly, as if she hadn't heard him correctly.
He surged to his feet and leaned over the table. 'I can't go on pretending I don't love you. I can't pretend it doesn't scare me spitless to see you in danger.'
She shot to her feet as if he had threatened her. She turned from him but two strides carried him to stand between her and the door. She stood like a doe at bay. 'At least hear me out,' he begged. The words rushed out of him. He wouldn't consider how stupid they would sound to her, or that he could never call them back again. 'You say you can't perform your duties without my respect. Don't you know the same is true for me? Damn it, a man has to see himself reflected somewhere to be sure he is real. I see myself in your face, in how your eyes follow me when I'm handling something well, in how you grin at me when I've done something stupid but managed to make it come out all right anyway. When you take that away from me, when…'
She just stood there, shocked and staring. His heart sank. His words came out as a plea. 'Althea, I am so damn lonely. Worst is to know that whether we fail or succeed, I still lose you. Knowing that you are, every day, here on the same ship with me, and I cannot so much as share a meal with you, let alone touch your hand, is torment enough. When you will not look at me or speak to me… I can't go on with this coldness between us. I can't.'
Althea's cheeks were very pink. Her rain-soaked hair was just beginning to dry, pulling out of her queue in curling tendrils that framed her face. For an instant, he had to close his eyes against the sweet pain of wanting her. Her words, broke through to him. 'One of us has to be sensible.' Her voice was very tight. She was standing right in front of him, not even an arm's length away. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if she feared she might fly apart. 'Let me pass, Brashen.' Her voice was a whisper.
He couldn't. 'Just… let me hold you. Just for a moment, and then I'll let you go,' he pleaded, knowing he lied.
HE WAS LYING AND THEY BOTH KNEW IT. JUST FOR A MOMENT WOULD NEVER be enough for either of them. Her breath was coming hard, and when his callused palm touched her jaw, she was suddenly dizzied. She reached out a hand to his chest, just to steady herself, perhaps even to push him away, that was all, she would not be so stupid as to allow this, but his flesh was warm through his shirt and she could feel his heart beating. Her traitor hand clutched the fabric and pulled him closer. He stumbled forward and then his arms were around her, holding her so tightly she could scarcely breathe. For a time, they did not move. Then he sighed out suddenly as if a pain had eased in him. He spoke softly, 'Oh, Althea. Why must it always be so complicated for us?'
His breath was warm against the top of her head as he kissed her hair gently. Suddenly, it all seemed very simple to her. When he bent to kiss her ear and the side of her neck, she turned her mouth to meet his and closed her eyes. Let it happen, then.
She felt him tug her shirt loose from her trousers. The skin of his hands was rough but his touch was gentle as his hands slid up under her shirt. One hand cupped her breast, then teased the tautness of her nipple. She could not move, and then she could. Her hands found his hips and snugged him against her.
He broke the kiss. 'Wait,' he cautioned her. He took a breath. 'Stop.'
He had come to his senses. She reeled with disappointment as he turned away from her. He walked to the door. With shaking hands, he bolted it. Returning, he caught up her hand. He kissed the palm of it, let it go and then stood silently, looking down on her. For an instant, she closed her eyes. He waited. She decided. She took his hands in both of hers and drew him gently toward his bed.
AMBER WAS SPEAKING GRAVELY AND SLOWLY. 'l DON'T THINK YOU FULLY understood what you did. That is why I can forgive you. But this is the only time. Paragon, you have to learn what it means to a man to die. I don't think you grasp the finality of what you did.' The storm wind buffeted her but she clung to his railing and waited for a reply. He tried to think of something to say that would make her happy. He didn't want Amber to be sad at him. Her sadness, when she let him feel it, went deeper than any human's. It was almost as grievous as his own.
Paragon turned all his senses inward, seeking. Something was happening. Something dangerous, something frightening. He had known this before, and he braced himself for the wrenching agony and shame of it. When humans came together like that, it always meant pain for the weaker one. What had made Brashen so angry with her? Why was she allowing it, why wasn't she fighting him? Was she so frightened of him she could not resist?
'Paragon. Are you listening to me?'
'No.' He drew a small breath through his open mouth. He didn't understand this. He had thought he knew what this meant. If Brashen did not mean to punish her, if he was not trying to master her with pain, then why was he doing this? Why was Althea allowing it?
'Paragon?'
'Shh.' He clenched his hands into fists and held them tight to his chest. He would not scream. He would not. Amber was talking at him but he closed off his ears and tuned his other senses. This was not what he had thought it was. He had thought he understood humans and how they hurt one another, but this was different. This was something else. Something he could almost recall. Timidly, he shut the eyes he no longer had. He let his thoughts float, and felt ancient memories soar in him.
ALTHEA HELD BRASHEN CLOSE TO HER AND FELT HIS HEART THUNDERING IN his chest. He gasped for breath beside the side of her neck. His hair was across her face. Her fingers gently walked the long ridge of the scarcely healed sword slash down his ribs. Then she set her hand flat to it, as if she could mend it with a touch. She sighed. He smelled good, like the sea and the ship and himself. When she held him, she held all those things within her. 'Almost,' she breathed softly. 'Almost, I thought we were flying.'
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – Surviving
'MAMA? WE CAN SEE BINGTOWN HARBOR NOW.'
Keffria lifted her aching head from the pillow. Selden stood in the doorway of the small stateroom they shared on the Kendry. She had not truly been asleep. She had simply been curled around her misery, trying to find out how to live with it. She looked at her son. His lips were chapped, his cheeks and brow reddened and chafed by the wind. Ever since his misadventures in the buried city, there had been a distant look behind his eyes, as if he were in some way lost to her, even as he stood before her. Selden was her last living child. That should have made her desperate to cherish him. She should have wanted him by her side every moment. Instead, it numbed her heart to him. Best not to love him too much. Like the others, he could be taken from her at any time.
'Are you coming to see? It looks really strange.' Selden paused. 'Some of the people on deck are crying.'
'I'm coming,' she said wearily. Time to face it. All the way here, she had avoided speaking to Selden of what they might find. She swung her feet out of bed. She pushed at her hair then gave it up. A shawl would cover it. She found one, still damp from the last time she had been on deck, flung it about herself and followed him onto the deck.
It was a gray day and the rain was steady. That felt right. She joined the other passengers looking toward Bingtown. No one chattered or pointed: they stood and stared silently. Tears ran down some faces.
Bingtown Harbor was a boneyard. The masts of ruined vessels stuck up from the water. Kendry maneuvered carefully around the sunken ships, heading not toward the liveships' traditional dock but to one that was newly repaired. The clean yellow lumber contrasted oddly with the weathered gray and scorched black of the rest. Men on the dock waited to welcome them. At least, she hoped it was welcome.
