by Casey Odell
He grinned, almost bashfully, and it made her heart flutter at how freely he’d shown his emotions to her. There had been a time she’d thought he didn’t have any at all.
“I’ve never steered a ship this size before,” he said. “Was curious, is all. I don’t think the sea life is the one for me, however. Too many men with questionable hygiene.”
She smiled at that, nodding in agreement. It was almost her exact thought. “What’s that?” she asked when she spotted the object in his hand. Made of brass and wood, it was cylindrical in shape, with glass covering the ends.
Farron grinned and grabbed the ends, and with a quick snap, extended it to almost double its length. “A looking glass,” he said as he held it out to her.
Claire took it hesitantly. Heavier than it appeared, she carefully held it up to her eye, keeping a firm grip on it. She wasn’t sure where the elf had gotten it, but she was certain that it wouldn’t be easy to replace if it somehow ended up overboard. She spied the coast, the craggy cliffs magnified through the hazy glass, a smile forming on her lips as small details came into focus. If she’d had this thing for the entirety of the trip, perhaps she wouldn’t have been as bored. She could have passed the days away wondering about the various places they’d passed. Made up tales about them. In any case, it would have been something to take her mind off the seasickness. And it was better than counting the trees. Almost anything was better than counting all those trees.
She lowered the looking glass and looked sideways up at Farron. “And where did you get this?” she asked.
He shrugged. “The captain,” he said. “He has taken a liking to me. A rather strong liking, if you know what I mean.”
A giggle burst from her lips, the first true one in weeks. She couldn’t help it. “It seems your charm works just as well on men as it does on women.”
“Yes, it seems,” he said, his voice rueful. He leaned forward on the railing and held his hand out for the looking glass.
Claire handed it back with reluctance, not wanting to part with it so soon.
Farron straightened and looked through it. After a few moments, he said, “Ah, there.” He handed the glass back to her and pointed towards the coast. “The Winletts Mountains.”
Trying her best to follow where he indicated, she scanned along the gray cliffs and up to the mountains beyond. “How can you tell?”
“See the black rock?”
She noticed the dark rock underneath the snowy caps.
“Only the Winletts have that. At least in this region. And that over there,” he said, pointing further east, “is Mount Thessa, the tallest peak.”
She spied the mountain that was only slightly taller than the rest. “How do you know all this?” She looked over at the elf, who was much closer than she remembered him being. “Are you a living atlas?”
He raised his eyebrows. “There were a lot of books in the forest. Some of them very old. Some of them full of maps.” He shrugged again. “I figured it would be important to know the lay of the land, in case my brother or the Council had caught up to me again and I had to flee.”
“I see,” she said. “So there will be no excuse for us getting lost, will there?”
He just chuckled and pointed again. “And those down there,” he said, motioning towards high rocky cliffs that jutted far out into the sea. “They’re known as the Maiden Cliffs.”
Claire spied them, the name instantly stirring her curiosity. “Why are they called that?”
“They say that the lost souls of young women wander the cliffs and call out to passing sailors, singing sweet songs, luring them in to crash into the rocks, to gain a partner in the afterlife.”
She lowered the looking glass and glared over at the elf. An evil grin had taken over his lips. Claire sighed. It wasn’t the first time he had tried to scare her with a legend and it was always hard to tell if he was lying or not. In any case, the tale held a certain level of creepiness. With the things she had seen in the past, the tale could have been true, she just didn’t know if she could handle spying a ghost at the moment.
“Why must you always try to scare me?” She jabbed the looking glass at him.
He grinned. “Because it is just too much fun not to.”
With a huff, she leaned back against the railing and crossed her arms. “Well,” she said. “Just make sure you don’t succumb to their song and steer us into the cliffs.”
“My lady,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Your trust in me is very disappointing indeed.”
“I think the problem is I put too much trust into you.”
“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing, Claire.” He leaned in closer, a little too close for her comfort.
Claire could feel her skin flush. “It could be,” she said, her mind muddled.
“Your safety is all I want, Claire.” Farron touched her chin lightly, turning her towards him, and leaned in closer, his mouth dangerously close to hers.
It took all she had to fight through the haze, to resist the temptation. It took her a moment to learn how to talk again. “Stop,” she said, a little too breathily. The effect he had on her still…
Farron tensed and lowered his head. His breath was hot against her neck. “Claire,” he whispered.
Claire wriggled out of his grip, and, without a word, hurried below to her bunk, not daring to cast a glance back at him. That had been too close. He still wasn’t going to give up and that frightened her because she wasn’t sure how long she could keep him away. Not when he was still so close.
A splash of cold water on her face did wonders, but even after five times, she still felt the heat in her cheeks. It was too close. And because of that, she feared that her ruse was over. If the elf knew she still had feelings for him, perhaps even stronger than she’d had before, he’d never go. She had to be more careful and not let him get close. It was just that when he did, she found herself losing all her conviction, her will melting away. The effect he had on her was frustrating.
It had been hours since the event, or so it felt. She looked out the little porthole above the stand with the porcelain basin. The sky was dark, the stars and moon out in full force. Waves rocked her little cabin about gently. If this kept up, she’d have to venture out and find some more fresh water, and risk running into him. She already was dreading facing him in the morning, or at all for that matter.
A knock came at the door and she froze. Who would want to see her at this hour of the night? Her mind could only come to one conclusion. Farron. She took a deep breath, trying to decide if she should answer it or not. Nothing good could come of it if she did. But he wasn’t going to leave without a fight. He was more stubborn than her at times. She was weighing her options silently in her head when another knock came at the door.
“I know you can hear me, Claire,” Farron’s voice slithered through the cracks in the door in a low growl.
Claire wiped her face with the small rag lying next to the basin, irritated. Was he drunk? She could have sworn she’d heard the slurring of drink in his voice. She crossed the room and put her hand on the brass latch, gathering herself. It would be the perfect opportunity to tell him off. To wound him. She just had to make sure to keep strong and let her anger fuel her. She couldn’t lose her way. Not this time.
With a sigh, she opened the door to find the most depressed and menacing version of the elf she’d ever seen. A half empty bottle of wine hung loosely in his left hand. He was in a sorry state and she felt a pang of guilt knowing she was the cause of it.
“We need to talk,” he demanded adamantly. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, it seemed.
But she was going to try. “I’m tired, Farron. It can wait until tomorrow.” She started to close the door, but he stopped it with a hand.
“No,” he said, forcefully. “Now.”
Her breath hitched, a slight thrill going through her. The seriousness of his voice frightened her a little. She knew she wasn’t going to like their talk.
But she also knew he wasn’t budging until they had it, and unless she wanted to go to sleep with a silver-haired elf lodged in her door, she had to at least hear him out.
Slowly, she eased the door open and turned back to her bunk hanging on the far wall. It was small and uncomfortable, but it was better than the ground. The door clicked closed, so softly she wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t so uncomfortably silent. Her heart beat— no, not beat, pounded— in her chest. She turned to the porthole again, wishing it was a little bit bigger so she could squeeze through it and brave the cold ocean waters instead of the angry elf. She’d have more of a chance then.
“What is it?” She tried to make her voice cold, emotionless, but it came out more breathily than she’d wanted. She had to do better, to control her emotions. “Keep it short, I’m tir—”
“You still have feelings for me,” he interrupted her.
Claire coughed, the shock of his blunt accusation hitting her hard. Well, she had said to keep it short. She just hadn’t expected him to startle the life out of her. “I-I don’t, Farron.” She leaned her hands on the stand, ready to splash more water on her face. Would that give her away?
“At least have the decency to look at me when you say it, Claire,” he said softly. “Unlike last time.”
She took another deep breath to gather herself again. She wasn’t sure she could look at him at the moment. But she had to try. She whirled around, letting some of the anger fuel her. “Is this what’s so important so late at night?”
“To me, it is very important.”
Claire sighed. “This is preposterous,” she said, crossing the room again to the door, making sure not to brush against him as she passed. “You already know my answer.” She put her hand on the latch.
“Do I?” he said as he put a hand on the door, preventing her from opening it. “You’ve tried,” his voice lowered, his mouth close to her ear, “but you’re not that good of a liar, Claire. I can see it in the way you look at me, the way you flush when I am near. You try to hide it. But why?”
“I,” she said and turned to look up at him, pressing her back against the door. She kept her hands behind her, not trusting herself enough to keep them free. He was close, even closer than he’d been earlier. She could smell the hint of wine on his breath. “I don’t.”
He let the wine bottle fall to the floor, where it thumped loudly, but to her surprise didn’t break. He leaned his free hand on the other side of her, trapping her.
“Who put you up to it? Was it the Council? My brother?” His voice was more urgent, more confident than before. “Or is it because of this?” He grabbed her right wrist and lifted her arm up. The mark was dark even in the dim cabin.
“Stop it!” She wrenched her wrist out if his grip and started to wriggle away when he slammed his hand back against the wall, trapping her once again. She thought about ducking under his arms, but her knees felt too weak; she’d just end up sprawled across the floor. “Why are you doing this?”
“Tell me you’re not going mad too, Claire.” His mouth was next to her ear again, his voice a low growl, sending shivers throughout her body. “To see you there and not be able to touch you, to kiss you, it’s maddening. Tell me that you can’t sleep at night, that your body aches for mine as much as mine longs for yours.” He leaned back and touched her chin, tilting it up so she looked up at him. “Tell me that you don’t have feelings for me and I’ll walk out that door right now.”
No sound came out of her mouth because for the past few moments she’d forgotten how to breathe, let alone talk. Moisture gathered in her eyes until it escaped down her cheeks in a slow stream. Her body trembled down to her toes. He’d broken her determination in one fell swoop, left her vulnerable and just a tad bit scared. She had felt all those things and more, but she had no idea it had affected him so badly. He was at his breaking point. She knew if she let him walk out that door, she’d never see him again. He would disappear as soon as they reached port, out of her life. It was what she wanted, though, right? But as soon as she was faced with the reality, she could feel the panic start to build. It wasn’t what she wanted at all. She wanted him. More than anything else at the moment.
His face was careful as he looked at her, waiting for an answer. Any answer.
“Yes,” she whispered, still not able to find her voice. The answer popped out of her mouth before she could stop it, but it was too late to take it back. The damage was already done. “I do.”
He lowered his face and rested his forehead on her shoulder, his hands gripping her upper arms. His breath came out in a long, shaky sigh.
Claire looked up at the ceiling, trying to control the tears. What had she just done? All the work and torture she’d gone through destroyed by three little words.
Farron straightened again, enough so his lips hovered right above hers. Just the slightest move and they would be on hers. Something that she wanted desperately, but she didn’t dare close the distance herself. Her mouth had already gotten her in enough trouble.
He leaned there for what seemed like an eternity, until finally, he closed that tiny distance. So soft and so light, she wouldn’t have believed he had even kissed her if her eyes weren’t open to prove it. But it was enough to spark the need inside of her. The fire blossomed in her, growing in intensity. She closed her eyes, and against her better judgment, gave into the kiss. His hand was in her hair then as he parted her lips and pressed her back against the door. Her hands curled into the front of his shirt. She kissed him like she was gasping for air and she couldn’t get enough. Her mind slowly fought to the surface, telling her it was a bad idea, that it was a mistake, and she started to push him away gently, but he drew back, the look in his eyes fierce.
“Do not deny me tonight, Claire,” he breathed. He kissed her again, deeper and more passionately than before.
It was then that she finally gave up the fight and started to push him backward to the bunk, giving into her own feelings after so long. There were sure to be consequences, but her mind was too distracted and muddled to think of them at the moment. All she could think about was him. And it was a distraction she’d been craving for quite a while. She might as well enjoy it while she still could.
The guilt hit her as soon as she woke up. And even though it had felt good to get lost in him once more, and she had gotten the best sleep she had in weeks, she knew it was a mistake.
The elf slept soundly beneath her cheek, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She peered up at him. He looked so peaceful, so vulnerable…
The sun shone bright through the porthole and it took her a second to realize the boat no longer swayed in the waves. It was still. But how could that be? Voices filtered in from outside, from below and all around. They were at port. Claire shot up, clutching the blanket to her. Had they reached their destination so soon? She supposed they’d spent enough time at sea— she knew she certainly had, but still. The captain or the crew hadn’t said a word. Claire glanced back at Farron as he stirred, but breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t awaken. Good. She didn’t want to have to deal with that so soon in the morning.
As quickly and quietly as she could, she slid out from the covers and picked her clothing up from the floor, shivering in the cold morning air. She needed to get out of the small room, to be able to think. She’d messed up, badly. Ruined her plan. How was she going to convince him to leave now? She could tell him she’d had a lapse in judgment. That was the truth, at least. She’d weakened— as she always did— when he bared his feelings. But she would take it all back, say it was a mistake. Again.
It was when she was tugging on her boots that he finally woke. He blinked at her, looking confused. And then it dawned on him. “Claire, wait!” he shouted to her as she slipped out the door.
Without pause she made her way up to the deck, a lump firmly lodged in her throat. She was angry and disappointed in herself. Why couldn’t she do anything right?
The sun stung her eyes as she emerged from
below. Chet and Graham glanced at her before helping the crew unload their belongings. Captain Eyepatch stood up on the quarterdeck talking to the ship’s captain. The other members of her party were nowhere to be seen at the moment. No one seemed to pay her any attention, and for that she was grateful. She needed to think, to figure out just what to do.
“Claire,” Farron said as he rushed onto the deck. His shoulders heaved.
He had gotten dressed faster than she would have thought possible for him to catch up to her like that. And it didn’t help that he looked more put together than her. It made her angry. It was unreasonable, but she needed fuel for the fire.
“I said wait!” he said firmly, stopping Claire in her tracks.
Fuming, she spun around to face him. “For what?” she nearly shouted back at him. She could feel the eyes on them already. But she didn’t care. She felt like lunging at him and giving him that beating he’d been offering her all this time. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides to control herself. “Last night was a mistake, Farron.”
“It always is, isn’t it?” He closed the distance between them and looked down at her, anger now clear on his face as well. “You only seem to have feelings for me when it is convenient for you,” he said, his voice lowering. “I can’t do this anymore, Claire. The constant jerking back and forth. Let me just ask you: did you ever really have feelings for me, or is it just because I was there and it was convenient?”
Claire was taken aback, her mouth agape, speechless. Is that what he really thought of her? Some of it may have been true, but for him to insinuate that she had never cared for him when she’d done all of this to try and keep him safe… she felt like slapping him. But he brushed past her before she could act on her impulse.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, incredulous.
“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” he called over his shoulder as he stormed towards the gangplank. “It’s not like you ever wanted me around anyway.”
