CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Sig and I walk straight to the infirmary, ignoring the stares and questioning looks aimed at us the entire way. I can’t wait to wash all this grime off and crawl into bed and shut my exhausted mind off from the constant onslaught of thoughts. Mara’s attack, seeing Dane, and now Weston. I just need this pain to go away so I can start over tomorrow, and hopefully figure out where to go from here.
“Sit,” Sig says, pointing to a chair tucked against the wall. I plop down on it and start to remove the sling, wincing with even the slightest movement. The wound stopped bleeding hours ago, but has rendered my arm almost completely useless. I’m grateful for Dawnlin’s magic, so I don’t actually have to let this heal. The pain will be gone in moments, but the memory will last.
Commotion erupts on the other side of the door and it sounds like something is happening in the mess. Muffled shouts and laughter float through the air, followed by the scraping of tables and chairs on the wood.
“I’m sorry I’m keeping you awake after the shit day we had,” I say. She’s already cleaned herself up and healed her leg, but instead of joining the rest of the crew or heading to her room, she stayed with me.
Even after all the danger I put her in.
“Don’t worry about it. We need to get this taken care of,” she says. “Besides, with all that,” she tilts her head toward the galley, “we’ll be lucky if we get to sleep anytime soon.”
She crosses the room and opens a cabinet filled with supplies before scanning over them and pulling out specific items. The familiar jar of salve catches my eye and I almost heave a sigh of relief at the sight. She sets everything down on the chair next to me and sits on a stool in front of me, angling herself so she can better see the puncture that goes completely through my biceps.
“What are they doing in there?” I ask as I watch her practiced hands move across my skin, cleaning and dabbing with a linen bandage.
“Playing games. Probably drinking.”
“You don’t want to join them?” I grumble as she moves my limb, trying to better access the other side, biting my lip and trying to remember the pain is almost over.
“Someone has to keep their wits about them,” she says as a chorus of roars erupts outside. Her movements are gentle but firm, and I hiss when she douses the opening with some liquid. She doesn’t flinch at all, and no one would guess that this strong woman tending to wounds is a princess like me. It makes me wonder if she learned it all here, or if this is part of who she was back home, too.
“I probably should have offered you a drink before I did this,” she says with a chuckle.
“No, I’m fine,” I grunt out. I don’t want to do anything that might loosen my inhibitions, not after what happened on deck. Not after how that kiss made me feel, especially knowing he regretted it before it was even over. I still have to sleep next to him tonight, and adding alcohol to my already muddled mind won’t result in anything good.
“Why didn’t the captain use this stuff when I cut him in training?” I ask. He walked around with his arm bandaged for days before a dark pink line took its place on his skin, but I never asked why. I was avoiding him then, and I wonder if Sig will tell me, or if she even knows.
“He doesn’t like using too much of the magic. He says he’s thankful enough for everything Dawnlin does for us. He doesn’t need to ask for more of it.”
I must have made a face because Sig laughs.
“I think it’s stupid too.”
“Is that why he has that big scar? He refused it then too? I’m sure you gave him a piece of your mind about that one,” I say.
She hesitates, and I can see her thinking, choosing her words carefully. “We actually didn’t have it when he got that one. He probably would have taken it then. That was a nasty slash.”
Her lips press together like she wants to say more, but stops herself. She leans in to look at my arm a little closer, so I don’t pry.
Someone shouts ‘no’, which is met by a chorus of laughs and cheers, the sound so loud it feels as if we’re in the same room.
Once she’s satisfied with her cleaning, she grabs the salve and smears it over the opening on both sides. At the first touch, the pain disappears, a cool tingling left in its wake, followed by the warmth of healing.
I breathe a sigh of relief and drop my head back against the wall.
“Why does he treat me like this, Sig?” I murmur.
I can’t let it go. I have to ask. It is blatant that Weston treats me differently than the rest of the crew, and after tonight, I thought it might be because of some repressed feelings. But after watching him walk away, without so much as a look back or a word other than cursing his actions, I don’t know what to believe.
Sig knows him better than anyone else. She isn’t afraid to challenge him, and he clearly trusts her. Maybe she knows something I don’t.
Her lips form a line, and she stays focused on her task, wrapping a clean bandage around my healing arm.
“Cap has his reasons.”
I sigh heavily. “That’s all everyone ever says. He has his reasons. What are the damn reasons, Sig? Why won’t anyone tell me?”
