Page 97 of Crossbones

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“Aw, he thinks I’m pretty?” I laugh at the dark look that comes over Blackwell’s face and lean in close. “Don’t worry, James, we’ve already established blonds are off-limits.”

“Everyone is off limits,” he growls.

I can’t stop my smile from growing and I see his attention drop to my dimples. I think they’re one of his favorite things about me, but he’s never commented on them. He just gets this look—

I step closer and my hand brushes his as I walk away. “Everyone except you.”

JAMES

We start seeing massive icebergs in the water, some larger than the ship, drifting silently through the mist. Eerie islands of pale blue with hidden depths that make them dangerous. The last few days our maps have been useless—none extend this far north. But according to the stars and a crude sketch I’d done to extend the longitude and latitude, we should be reaching our destination any day now. The energy of the ship is electric. For the last twenty-four hours, the men have been hovering around the railings, searching the horizon for what we all hope is here—Grythmoor.

As the location of Caspian’s coordinates gets closer and closer, my nerves are wearing thin. Because I don’t see anything. Just islands of ice resembling a giant floating mountain range. It’s midday when Lan steps away from the railing, a worried look on his face and shakes his head.

“The coordinates lead us here,” he says quietly.

Caspian and I look up. All I see is a wall of ice. Certainly nowhere a city would be hiding.

“It should be here,” Caspian insists.

“Search a few leagues east and west,” I demand.

Tension heavy with doubt and worry settles on the quarterdeck. Harrison shouts out orders to trim the sails as he turns theTempestwest. I watch Caspian stalk towards the bow and post up at the rail, as though he could physically will the city into existence. I head back to my cabin and immediately pour myself some rum. I stare down at the charts on my desk but I’m not seeing any of it. I’m thinking of everything that could happen if we’re wrong.

The rest of the day, Caspian stands in the same spot. Staring off into the ice cliffs like Grythmoor is just going to appear for him. I’ve made a few appearances on deck, but spend most of the day drinking myself into a drunken state in my cabin. At nightfall, the murmurs start. Somehow the men have picked up on the general vibe; I’m sure seeing Caspian parked on the bow isn’t helping things. With each passing hour, doubt is seeping through the crew. I always knew this was a possibility—we’d show up and there’d be nothing, but the reality is so much worse.

It’s nearing midnight when Harrison barges into my cabin. I’m sitting on the edge of the desk, holding a nearly empty rum bottle. I’d stopped bothering with a glass hours ago.

“What’s the plan, Captain?” Harrison demands.

I glance up at him coldly but instead of answering, I raise the bottle to my lips.

He grinds his teeth together and takes a step towards me. “The men are beginning to ask questions.”

“We spend another day searching.”

“Searching where?” Harrison throws his arms out. “There’s nothing out there!”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“Yes, we do!” Harrison says, his voice rising. “We’ve known for years. But a fucking prince comes along and brainwashes you into thinking he has a map—a fucking map—why’d you believe him, man?”

I don’t have an answer for that—except that it got me out of hanging—and my own stupid curiosity to get to know the man who wasn’t afraid of me. I take another swig of rum.

“What are you going to say to the men?” Harrison’s anger permeates my intoxication.

“Nothing yet.”

Harrison’s eyes narrow. “You know what this means—”

I’m moving before I even realize what I’m doing. My hand goes around Harrison’s throat and I shove him hard backwards against the table.

“You touch him and it’ll be the last thing you do ,” I snarl.

“You’ve forgotten yourself,” Harrison rasps, his voice heavy with contempt. “You’ve let the prince wrap you around his finger—or should I say cock—” I squeeze, cutting off his words. He glares at me. I’m breathing hard, terrified of what might happen if there isn’t any gold—even more terrified of losing Caspian. I loosen my hold on Harrison’s neck and step back, shoving away from him with a scowl. I slam the bottle down on my desk and turn my back on him, leaning heavily over the wood.

“Give me three more days,” I say. I look over my shoulder. “We have a week before our supplies force us to turn back anyway. Give me that.”

Harrison takes a deep breath and nods curtly. “Three days.”