And there’s no way in the nine circles of hell that I will ever be able to bring myself to kill her.
Which means I’m going to be on the run for the rest of my very short life. I’m guessing I’ll have a week, maybe two at best, before the finfolk catch up with me.
Then why are you spending your limited time doing paperwork?
The thought echoes through my mind, and I drop the pen I’ve been fiddling with on my desk. WhyamI doing this?
I think through the obvious reasons. It needs to be done. It’s my job. No one else will do it. These are all valid. But whenever an argument reaches my mind, another one pops up to counter it.
You could be doing something better with your time.
Before realizing what I’m doing, I’ve picked up my phone. My fingers are flying over the screen, typing out a text.
Me: Hey.
I click send before I can talk myself out of it and slam my phone back on my desk. Slouching back in my chair, I try to focus on the papers before me when my phone dings almost instantly.
Princess: Hey, back.
Two seconds later, three dots appear on the screen. I bite my lip, watching them intently. A moment later, another message appears.
Princess: I thought you were working? Or maybe you’re just binging true crime again?
I smirk, settling into my chair as my fingers fly over the screen.
Me: Who says true crime isn’t work? Maybe I am just doing some research.
Princess: Spill the beans, Pirate of Death.
A laugh spills out of me, shattering the silence of my office. Her humor is so… unexpectedly dark. I can’t even remember the last time I laughed. My lips tilt up as I respond.
Me: That’s classified information, Princess. It’s rude to kill and tell, you know. ??
The rest of the afternoon flies by as we exchange messages, talking about nothing and everything. Helena tells me about life in Aqualis and her best friend, Elva. I tell her about my obsession with true crime and what it’s like to live on a boat all year round.
By the time dinner rolls around, I know Helena’s favorite color (turquoise), her favorite food (chocolate), and her favorite hobby (reading, no surprise there). My mood is better than it has been in years, and I leave my office whistling. The aromatic smell of Jean Luc’s signature stew permeates the ship and beckons me to the mess hall.
As I approach, boisterous laughter fills my ears. My curiosity is peaked, and I push the door. It flies open, banging as it collides with the wall, and the laughter abruptly stops.
In the middle of the room, Helena sits on the table, a crowd of sailors standing around her. As one, they turn and stare at me. A few of the smarter sailors pale at the sight of my face and back away from her. She simply raises a brow and smirks at me. The sight makes my nostrils flare.
And there goes my good mood.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, putting my hands in my pockets and sauntering to the table.
Silence is my only response.
“Anyone?” I growl.
“Well...” Anders begins to speak, his face whiter than a sheet of paper, when my pocket vibrates.
Throwing up a hand in the air, I yank my FaePhone out of my pocket.
Princess: I was just telling the boys a story, that’s all. No need to go all Pirate of Death on them.
Clenching my fist at my side, I raise a brow. “Move,” I bark.
Feet scurry on the wooden floor, chairs shuffling as the men quickly find seats. I glare at them, and miraculously, they all find something interesting to look at on their plates.