Neither of us moves once he’s gone, and I let out my held breath slowly.
“Is that why you wanted me to have my weapons back?” I ask quietly.
He nods. “You need to be able to protect yourself.”
“They won’t hurt me.”
He stands upright, and turns, towering over me, and I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. His eyes darken as they roam my face, and my cheeks heat under the scrutiny.
“I’m not willing to take that chance.”
I’m too aware of the breath of space between us, and the fire low in my abdomen at his words. My eyes scan his, and he doesn’t shy away, just stays gazing intently at me, as if he has more to say, but won’t.
Why does he care this much? Is he this protective of everyone in the crew? As the captain, I know he feels responsible for everyone’s well being, but he saved me before he knew me, before I was anywhere near his ship and his crew.
Blinking rapidly, I break out of his trance and step away, turning to cross the lookout again and plopping down on the wooden floor. I pull the bow off and set it next to me, extending my legs out in front of me and crossing my ankles.
I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. I didn’t expect to have to pick apart every word that Weston uttered today, butthat is all I’ve done, and I need a break. I need to get my mind straight and figure out what is really going on.
This is the first time Weston has actually talked to me. Not commanded me, or made comments. Actually talked, and it feels like it came out of nowhere.
Taking him up on his offer to rest, I close my eyes and lay my head back on the boards, trying to piece together everything I know with everything I learned today. Seeing Storm walking around Dawnlin like he was hunting something makes me uneasy.
The Castaways have never spoken of harming anyone. Weston has only ever talked about protecting and defending themselves. But seeing the way Storm was ready to shoot, and knowing the beliefs back at camp, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I am making the wrong decision, trying to get back to them.
What if I’m not on the right side after all?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
On the days Weston and Sig bring out the training weapons, the mood on deck is always light and playful. Everyone can learn something new and blow off a little steam, which builds up in a group of people that only leave the ship once every nine days.
When I stepped back on deck yesterday with my bow slung over my chest, Fin was so excited that he started begging Weston to let us practice. The moment he saw the training swords in their hands this morning, he let out an enormous cheer and started running around the deck in circles, only amplifying the excitement among everyone.
Weston doesn’t demand I partner with him this time, and instead works with Eirlik on his footwork, so I grab a couple full quivers and find Fin. After setting up the target bales at the bow of the ship and getting Fin in position, Auralie wanders over and asks for a lesson.
I demonstrate for a few minutes, then hand her my bow and start moving her around in the proper stance to get her started. Stassia comes along a few moments later, plopping down on the deck next to us before laying flat to soak up the sunshine.
Fin’s shots are all over the place, and arrows fly everywhere, but he isn’t deterred. Auralie takes to the bow quickly and starts hitting the bale after only a handful of attempts. I stand over Stassia, making sure not to shade her as I watch Fin and Auralie, offering comments when I need to.
“So, Lennox,” Stassia says from below. “How’d you convince Captain to give you your weapons back?” Stassia asks as Auralie’s arrow strikes the target on the second ring. I shoot her a smile as she excitedly grabs another arrow and lines up her next shot.
“I didn’t have to convince him,” I say, glancing down at her. “He bet me for them, and I won.”
“Hebetyou? What was the bet?”
It sounds like Weston doesn’t make bets very often, and I hide that away in my mind as just another thing he’s done with me and not everyone in the crew.
“I showed him I wasn’t completely inept with a weapon. Did you know he’s a terrible shot?”
I feel him before I hear him, and I know he heard me, but that doesn’t make my statement any less correct.
“Careful, princess.” His voice rumbles behind me, sending involuntary shivers down my spine. “I still can take them away.” Weston steps up beside me and crosses his arms over his chest as he surveys our practice.
“I won fair and square,” I say. “Besides, I’m not wrong. You completely missed the target once.”
“The tree was far away. It was supposed to be hard.” He sounds defensive, but in a playful way.
A friendly way.
