Page 56 of Honor Requires

He closed his eyes, the sound of the sea a distant murmur, and allowed himself, at last, to sleep, not even realizing he had not looked up at the stars once.

Chapter Thirteen

Darcy woke to the sound of water. For a moment—one brief, disorienting moment—he did not know where he was. The continuous rush of the tide against stone, the faint echo of movement within the cavern, the absence of iron bars and suffocating walls; all of it stood in such stark contrast to the years he had endured that his mind struggled to reconcile it.

Then memory returned. The escape. The crossing. The narrow passage through the Needles.

Freedom.

He drew a slow breath, the air cool and touched with salt, and opened his eyes to the dim gray light filtering into the cave. Dawn had come, though the sun itself had not reached them. The entrance lay behind, casting a pale glow across the sand, while deeper within, the shadows remained thick and impenetrable.

Lucien was already awake. He stood near the edge of the water, his figure outlined against the faint light, watching the tide with the easy familiarity of a man accustomed to the sea.

“You sleep heavily for a man newly escaped,” he said without turning.

Darcy pushed himself upright, his body protesting the movement. “Exhaustion has its advantages,” he replied.

Lucien glanced back, a faint smile touching his lips. “So, it does.” He paused. “I heard the alarms around an hour ago. We will need to remain hidden here for some time before we attempt anything. It would not do for us to be captured.”

The thought sent a frisson of anxiety racing through Darcy’s heart. For a time, neither spoke. The lack of discourse between them was not strained, but contemplative. The enormity of what they had done—and what remained before them—settled slowly into place.

At length, Lucien gestured toward the darker recesses of the cave. “It lies within. It was concealed well.”

Darcy rose, brushing sand from his clothing, and followed.

The cave narrowed as they moved inward, the air growing cooler, the light diminishing until Lucien produced a small taper from somewhere behind a chest, shielded carefully as he coaxed it to life. The flickering glow revealed rough stone walls, uneven and damp, the ground beneath their feet shifting from sand to rock. They moved deeper still, until at last Lucien stopped.

“There,” he said.

Darcy stepped forward.

At first, he saw nothing but shadow. Then, as his eyes adjusted, shapes emerged—a large quantity of small chests, their surfaces worn but intact, tucked into a natural recess in the rock. They had been concealed with care, positioned so as to escape notice unless one knew precisely where to look.

Lucien knelt, prying one open with practiced ease. Gold gleamed within. Coins, jewels, small objects of value—enough to change the course of a life, or many lives.

Darcy did not speak. He stood in silence, taking in the sight, the value of it settling upon him not as temptation, but as necessity. This was not plunder to him. It was means. It was the beginning of reclamation.

“How much do we take?” he asked at last.

“Enough,” Lucien replied. “No more than we can carry without drawing attention. The rest remains. We shall have to return for it later.”

Darcy's gaze lingered upon the chests. “Will we be permitted to claim it?” he asked. “Treasure of this nature is often seized by the Crown.”

Lucien smiled faintly. “Ordinarily, perhaps. But this is not abandoned treasure, my friend. Before my arrest, I concealed more than gold upon this island.” He reached into his coat and produced a small oilcloth packet. “The original deeds, inventories, and family papers remain here. I left them hidden with the hoard, protected against damp and discovery. The treasure belonged to my family before it belonged to me, and the documentation establishes that chain of ownership beyond reasonable dispute.”

Darcy accepted the packet and glanced over the contents. Though worn by time, the papers appeared genuine.

“Then it may be lawfully claimed.”

“Precisely,” Lucien said. “The process may require patience and discretion, but the claim is valid.”

Darcy released a breath he had not realized he was holding.

Lucien laughed softly. “You need not look so relieved. And before you begin arguing, we shall divide it equally.”

Darcy immediately shook his head. “It is your inheritance.”

“It is ours,” Lucien corrected. “Without you, I should still be imprisoned. Without me, you would never have found the treasure. We escaped together, and we shall share it together.”