Chapter 16

She watched as the smoke dissipated, taking him with it. Once the last particles had vanished, she was able to properly breath again. She could still feel the fear and that strange warmth flowing through her veins as she slowly let out a shaky breath. The madness in his eyes.

She smoothed a hand over the comforter, casting a look around the cabin. There was still light, a warm wash that basked the room in a warm glow. It was odd, now that he was gone, the cabin almost felt safe. She hesitated on the bed for several more moments, before slowly working her way to the edge of the bed and sliding to the floor.

Her feet hit the carpet, and she noticed with a faint smile that they had landed in two worn indents that engulfed her feet, and she could suddenly picture him sitting just as she was, hunched over the edge of the bed, absentmindedly rubbing his feet back and forth on the carpet, wearing it away over the years. A scar of his thoughts, much like the worn wood above the bed. She wondered what sort of memories had been worn into the spot beneath her soles, what sort of thoughts had been snared by the faded threads over the years.

With a light shake of her head, she dispelled the fanciful thoughts, electing to slowly rise and wander about the room, trying to find something to distract her from her still pounding heart. She knew, given what she had just gone through, she should be afraid, she should be terrified. The fate of her parents, her son, seemed to lay in the hands of an out of control monster who had just tried to take advantage of her after promising he wouldn't. The same creature who had healed her without prompting, had tried to talk her out of her self-imposed slavery, had cowered away from her in fear of himself.

The paradox in his actions should have made her afraid, but she catalogued her own internal experiences since she had come aboard his ship, not two day ago. Again and again, she kept finding strength. Her whole life, she had been sheltered, her parents so despite to keep her from experiencing the pains in life that they had. Their learned fear became her instinctual reaction, and their boldness in the face of adversity had become her meekness in their shadow. She had never cared before, content to live as she had, safe and cut off from the world. The only darkness that had stained her life in the death of her husband was lessened in the birth and raising of her son.

She never before had a reason to be brave. But when faced with the loss of everything, she found something within herself she hadn't know she was missing. She sighed at herself. She wasn't brave. Only moments ago she had been trembling and frozen in terror, helpless. She felt tears start to prick at her eyes at the self rebuke, proving her own point to herself.

She tried to blink away the tears, sniffling as she continued her exploration of the cabin, fingers trailing over the smooth wood, her back never turning to the door. She saw maps and charts that made no sense to her, although she saw one with the familiar Misthaven coast line. She leaned forward, shifting the rest of the parchments out of the way to look at the map more closely, her fingers trailing over the ancient page, marveling at the skill and color of the illuminations. The land was filled with mountains and shimmer lakes and in the sea, all manner of creatures had been drawn coiling and writhing. It was truly a work of art, and she wondered where he had procured it. She was about to turn away when something caught her eye. A beast that looked almost the same decorated the corner of another map.

She was immediately intrigued at the similarity in skill of the renditions. She suddenly had a thought, and pulled the other maps back toward her, studying each unknown coastline and the ornamentation around it. By the time she had studied them all, she was certain of it. They had all been made by the same hand. The design of the bordering, the detail of the geography, the precision of the coasts, the intricacies of the beasts. There was no way they could have been made by different people.

She straightened, feeling an ache in her back from how she had been hunched over. Bringing her hands to her lower back she let straighten, breathing deeply, noticing for the first time that the sun had set as she had studied the charts.

She jolted in realization. The lamps around the cabin were lit. Instinctively she backed herself to the wall, eyes immediately searching for his presence. But he was not there and the room was silent, save for a gentle creaking from the ship that sounded almost like a song.

After several tense seconds waiting for something to happen, she slowly relaxed again, before being violently startled when a puff of smoke coalesced in the middle of the desk before fading away. She waited for something more to happen, and when the ship remained as still as it had been, she cautiously approached.

Now sitting on top of the desk was a pitcher and another tray of food, upon which sat a scroll bound in a blood red ribbon. But even more startling was the scroll being wrapped around the stem of the Misthaven Night Rose, a rare breed of pale pink flower that was supposedly extinct in the country. With shaky hands, she pulled the flower out and studied it.

The smell was nothing like the sweet, cloying scent she usually associated with flowers. Instead, the thornless rose emitted a sell that reminded her of a fresh summer night. If she closed her eyes, she could picture picnicking with her parents and Henry on the castle balcony. Her lips twitched at the memory. She lingered over the flower for a little while before opening her eyes to consider the scroll in her hand, letting out a resigned sigh as she put the flower down to pull the ribbon free and unroll the parchment.

Your Majesty,

Here is the fare for the evening, I hope you enjoy. I am no longer aboard the ship, rather I have decided to try and gather knowledge in the main land, where of course, you cannot be seen. I have enchanted the ship to travel to Misthaven Sound, where I will return to the vessel when I have acquired what I need. I will be sending along a list of your required duties come sunrise, so take the evening to yourself. As we agreed, I will provide supplies as you require them. If you desire something I have not provided you, use the parchment in the top right drawer of the desk to write it down and leave it outside the cabin door. I will ensure you receive it.

And since you cannot, at present, return to your home, I thought you might appreciate a bit of your home coming to you. The Misthaven Night Rose has an interesting tale. I have a book on it on the middle shelf, bound in green stained leather, should you be searching for something to occupy you for the night.

I bid you good evening, your Highness.

KJ

She finished the letter with a furrowed brow, confused by the tone of the note. while respectful, it possessed none of the darkness nor conflict she had seen in the man thus far.

She ran her fingers over the elegant initials at the bottom of the page. KJ. Killian Jones. His name. Not his various titles, no captain or dark one. She sighed again, dropping the parchment in favor of lifting the rose once again to her nose, inhaling deeply before she eyed the food before her. She carefully lifted the tray and brought it to the table left over from her morning meal, noticing with some surprise that the empty dishes were gone, leaving the flat surface vacant.

She gingerly placed the tray down, noticing that the engravings were again of the Boy and The stars, before she prepared to settle down for her meal. Then she caught sight of the bookcase and her curiosity was piqued. She rose and made her way over, admiring as she approached the beauty, variety, and quality of the volumes on display. Whatever else, he was a learned man.

Her eyes searched the middle shelf before falling on a small tome wrapped in a cover the color of moss, and she carefully slid it from its spot on the shelf, noting the lack of dust. He was very clean.

There was no embossing on the cover, just undisturbed leather. She ran her fingers over it as she padded back to the bed. Making herself a small tray of the fresh cut meat sand a small slice of the tart bread he had provided, she settled against the head board, nibbling a bite as she opened the cover. She gasped at the title.

The Beauty of a Lover's Regret- The Tale of The Night Rose

She had to read the words aloud to make sure what she was seeing was true before glancing down at the small rose that was now cradled in her lap. As she considered the implications of the flower from simply the title, she felt a small warmth blossom in her chest like the rose in her lap, a small smile twisting her lips, before she gave a quiet chuckle. She spoke out to the silence of the room.

"He is trying to say he's sorry."