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“Prince Corrick has more political savvy thanthat,” I say.
“Well. Maybe.” He screws up his face, then glances at the stairwell. “Do you want me to bring you some food back?”
I blink in surprise—and for a fraction of a second, I realize itshouldn’tbe a surprise. He brought me Karri’s candies last night.I am kind, he said.
Maybe he is, and I just never looked beyond the obvious.
“No, thank you,” I say. “I’ll be down in a moment.”
He nods, then turns away.
Without warning, the main deck is suddenly as empty as it was this morning, when I first woke. Wind tugs at my braids and lifts the nets around my boots, but I don’t mind the quiet twilight, where the only sounds are suddenly the sounds of the ship: waves slapping the hull, the creak of wooden beams, the faint jingle of chains attached to the rigging.
When a man emerges from the stairwell a few minutes later, his features are in silhouette, so I assume it’s a member of the crew. But then I recognize the line of his jaw and the familiarity of his movements.Corrick.
I keep my eyes on the nets. I can’t decide if I want him to come over here—or if I want him to keep his distance. The needle slips over and under, closing gaps.
I stay so focused on my task that I don’t realize he’s approached until he’s right in front of me. I hardly look up past his boots, but I can tell he has a plate in one hand, a wooden cup in the other.
“You aren’t eating?” he says.
His voice is quiet, but not tentative. I can’t read anything from his tone.
“I wanted to finish this first.”
The sun sinks a little lower in the sky, lengthening the shadows between us.
After a moment, Corrick steps to the side, then drops to sit on the bench beside me.
“You must be hungry,” he says, and his voice is low. “I’m happy to share, Miss Cade.”
In the dark, he always reminds me of Wes, and without warning, my throat tightens. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. Here.” He selects a berry from the plate, then lifts it to my mouth.
It feels too intimate, and there’s too much unsaid between us. For a heartbeat of time, I’m not sure what to do.
That berry hovers in front of my lips, and I say, “Are you sure you want your fingers near my teeth?”
Light glints in his eyes. “I’ll risk it.”
I take the berry, careful not to touch his fingers. Sweetness explodes on my tongue. I reallyamhungry. “I have a needle in my hands, too.”
“I’m not worried. You once had a chance to poison me, and you didn’t do it.” He holds up another berry.
I take this one more readily. “I punched you below the belt, though.”
He winces. “I think I’ve blocked that memory.”
Another berry. This time his fingers brush my lips, and it’s the tiniest movement, but warmth shoots to my cheeks.
I swallow hard. My voice goes a bit breathy as I say, “I need to finish the nets.”
“You really don’t.”
“I said I would. I’d like to keep my word.”
His eyes narrow. “To whom? Rian?” He says it like he already expects the answer.
