Page 56 of Crossbones
“You don’t like me?”
“Caspian—” I warn.
Hechuckles and gives me a sheepish smirk. “If we get out of here—”
“When,” I snap.
Caspian gives me a strange look but nods. “When we get out of here, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Why not now?”
The humor disappears as if it was never there. “Don’t make me be vulnerable in here, James.”
His voice is breathy and emotional. The use of my name again gives me pause and I see the edge he’s walking. If he were to tell me his story, he’d have to disappear into the memories, and with the line between past and present blurred, it’s a dangerous place to walk. I understand that and so I nod curtly and his shoulders relax in relief.
Hours later, they come and get Caspian again. He doesn't look at me as they drag him away, and once again I’m left with the helpless feeling I’m just letting this all happen. It’s hours before they bring him back and when they do, he’s barely conscious. He passes out before I can speak to him. I slam my hand against the bars in anger, more than a little annoyed we’re still here. I pace the bars thinking more about escape scenarios—
“James.” I turn to see him dragging himself towards the bars. The action exhausts him as he sags against the barrier dividing us. He’s pale, with sweat breaking out across his forehead. There’s pain etched into every line of his face—his eyes are glazed with it.
“I need to tell you the—”
“No,” I say vehemently.
Dread hits me so hard I choke out the word. I know what he’s trying to say.
He clutches the bars. “It can’t die with me.”
His words stab me. “You’re not going to die,” I fumed.
That at least brought a ghost of a smile to his face as he looks at me with a glimmer of the amusement I’m used to seeing.
“The coordinates—”
“Don’t—”
But his stubborn ass continues to speak. He tells me how he came upon the map. He tells me what it looked like—including where Grythmoor was located on it and finally, in a voice barely above a breath, he tells me the coordinates.Instead of feeling elated, my stomach twists in disgust.
“Now you know, Captain,” he tries to give me a smile. “Just in case, of course,” he adds when he sees my fury. “Don’t tell Malik or I’ll make sure I haunt you for the rest of your days.”
I know he’s trying for humor but it comes out flat. On impulse, I slide my hand up the bars until it’s firmly over his. I can’t say anything; my throat is thick with emotion and besides, what am I supposed to say to the man who was supposed to die by my hand—but who I very much don’t want to kill. The man who drives me crazy but also sends a thrill through me every time those damn dimples appear. He’s someone who has deep shadows and maybe—maybeone day, he’ll trust me enough to show me. But I can’t say any of that because I barely understand it.
All I know is I don’t want my life to go back to how it was before Caspian De’Vero entered it.
Caspian puts his other hand over mine, meeting my gaze with one that further stalls my breathing and makes my blood race. He rests his head against the bars and it isn’t long until he’s asleep. Something tugs at my chest seeing him curled up against the iron with my hand sandwiched between his—providing an anchor in an otherwise stormy sea.
I jolt awake when I hear the door. Caspian’s hand is ice cold in mine and for a moment I panic, watching for any sign he’s still breathing. I catch a glimpseof his chest rising before Firth arrives. This time he stops in front of my cell. Firth is looking at me apprehensively, his body language entirely different from when he’s dealing with Caspian.
“Come on, Stormbreaker,” he says.
I carefully extract myself from Caspian’s hand and let Firth lead me up into the main halls of the fort. I walk into a receiving room where Malik is standing by a roaring fire smoking a pipe. He looks me over with curiosity. As soon as the guards retreat to the door, he nods to a cart that holds a selection of liquor bottles.
“Can I get you a drink, Blackwell?”
I don’t dignify that with an answer.
“The only reason you’re here is because you were with Caspian when I found him,” Malik states, sounding apologetic. “I know who your contacts are and I will be letting you go.”
“And Caspian?”
