Page 72 of Freeing Hook

“Then you had better hurry to get changed then,” Astor says. “I don’t like to be kept waiting. Especially when it comes to a hot meal.”

I nod, biting back a smile, and scurry off.

I haveto take a steadying breath before I knock on the captain’s door. Part of me wonders if he’ll have changed his mind in the time it took me to ready myself for dinner. My tattered gown was sodden, making it difficult to wrangle off. I had to recruit Charlie, who seemed suspicious as soon as I asked to borrow another one of her gowns rather than slide into more comfortable attire.

When I’d told her I was dining with the captain, she’d treated me to a sharply arched eyebrow. Explaining it was just to celebrate our success hadn’t done much to temper her suspicion.

Although I’d feigned indifference, I hadn’t resisted much when she insisted on fixing my hair into a slightly more intricate braid than usual.

For a while, no one comes to the door. The seconds stretch out for minutes before I get up the courage to knock again, though this time the knocks are more timid.

Shuffling feet, and a shadow appears underneath the doorstep.

My heart twists into knots, but I don’t have time to flee before the door opens, and before me towers Astor. He’s running a towel through his still-wet hair, black strands dripping over his forehead.

It occurs to me he’s bathed, and I haven’t.

It also occurs to me that I definitely should have bathed. There’s no telling how I stink after our excursion. Granted, I’ve changed, but I probably still reek of gore.

I’m about to mumble an excuse to flee the premises when the captain gestures me inside. “Took you long enough. I was about to retire to bed.”

There’s no accusation in his voice. Just amused teasing. Indeed, he’s not dressed for dinner, in his captain’s coat like I might have expected. Instead, he sports a pair of loose trousers and a white shirt, carelessly askew at the neckline. He must have just thrown it on. Even the bed is already partially unmade.

My eyes glance over to the table, where two plates sit prepared but untouched.

“I thought you weren’t going to let your food get cold,” I say.

The captain ignores me as he shuts the door behind us. The cabin feels cozier than the last time I was here. Maybe it’s a by-product of the lack of shackles at my wrists.

When I sit at the table, small enough that it only fits the two of us, he takes the seat across from me. A plate of blackened trout, grits flavored with cheese, and broccoli florets the crew must have obtained in Laraeth sits before me, though it’s not steaming.

My stomach twists when I notice the goblet sitting in front of me, but when I bring it to my lips, I’m relieved to find it’s just water. There’s not even a bottle of wine on the table.

The silence between us is painful as we scarf down our meals. The trout has gone cold, but my stomach isn’t complaining. I hadn’t realized how hungry I’d become.

Finally, when I’m beginning to think the silence will break me, the captain asks, “Did you have a theater tutor?”

Unfortunately, I’m halfway into a bite of trout, so the captain will have to wait. Once I’ve gulped it down rather forcefully, I say, “An odd question, don’t you think?”

He picks at his grits. “I don’t think so. In fact, I think it’s quite relevant given your performance at Vale’s.”

“Oh. That.” My cheeks burn and I take a gulp of water as if it were a swig of soothing wine, burning on the way down. “I suppose I did make it seem as if I were the boss behind the operation.”

“You were rather convincing. Though perhaps I was simply eager to be convinced.”

My tongue goes dry, despite the water. “And why is that?”

“I’ve always told you I’d like to see you assert yourself.”

My tone goes chilled. “Funny. I don’t remember you saying as much. What I do remember is you insulting my timidity and weak-mindedness.”

The captain returns to his meal, looking slightly abashed.

“No,” I say when I can’t bear the silence any longer.

He quirks a brow, swirling his fork around the edge of his plate.

“No,” I go on. “I didn’t have a theater tutor. I wanted one, but my parents felt it unwise. They thought it would lead to me wanting to join productions.”

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