“You found my map,” he says, and I snap back into the conversation, clearing my throat quietly.
“If you didn’t want me to find it, you should have locked it away,” I say. “Besides, it’s not like it was really that hidden.”
“You’re right, it wasn’t. Yours is pretty good too.” He nods at the piece of parchment I had pushed off to the side.
He’s apologizedandsaid I was right, all within a few minutes? This can’t be genuine. It has to be part of the plan. Are we both playing each other?
I narrow my eyes at him. “You looked at it.”
“I did.”
“Why? If you already had this one,” I gesture to the map underneath his palms, “then why would you need to look at mine?”
“How was I supposed to know it was a map until I looked at it?”
“I thought it wasn’t polite to go through someone else’s things?”
“That rule doesn’t apply to prisoners on my ship.”Challenge sparkles in his eyes and I scoff, ignoring it.
“Having the map helped me find the healing waters. Dane has a no map rule, but I knew I needed it, and the island gave me what I needed.”
I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to Weston. He doesn’t need to know why I had the map, or about Dane’s rule, but once the words are out of my mouth, I can’t take them back.
The corner of his lips turns up. “I guess the island didn’t agree with him.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “I guess it didn’t.” Since it happened, I haven’t been able to make sense of that fact. Dane is the Guardian, the protector of the island and the healing waters, and has a rule for that purpose, yet the island went against it. Why?
I still don’t have an answer. I can’t seem to make sense of anything Dawnlin does, but all I can do is trust it will one day be revealed.
Silence falls between us, and I realize Weston is waiting for me to speak. He must know I have a million questions about the map, and is giving me an opportunity to ask, and an opportunity to show his trust by answering.
I think for a moment, prioritizing what I want to know before speaking again.
“You already know where camp is.” It isn’t a question.
He nods. “We do.”
“How?”
His head quirks to the side, his eyes narrowing, like he doesn’t know why I asked this question. “Everyone here was once a Voyager, remember?”
Exactly as I thought, but I needed to hear him confirm it. I didn’t understand why Dane never saw this obvious fact, or if he had, why he explained it away. Weston had an entire crew of people who once were Voyagers. Every person on this ship would have known everything about us, including where we lived. Having a map never would have mattered.
“But you never attacked us.” Again, another statement, not a question.
“I had no intention to.” I try to analyze his tone, his expression, to find the lie, but I can’t. This seems like the most authentic Weston has ever been with me. There’s no air of authority or fury. The only other time I’ve seen or heard him this real is when I watched relief flash over his face back in the cave, back when he was assuring me I was alive.
Goosebumps erupt over my skin at the memory and I ignore them, grateful they are hidden under my long sleeves.
“Why?”
“There’s nothing I need at camp anymore.” His eyes find mine, and I feel a flush of heat creep up my neck.
Anymore.
That means he managed to get whatever he was searching for. But if he didn’t attack camp, how?
“What did you need from camp?” I take a chance asking, trying not to be obvious I’m prying. Hopefully, he is caught up in the conversation and will just answer without thinking.
