Page 83 of Freeing Hook

“The captain told me to make sure that if you needed to borrow a gown again, to make sure that it didn’t have any velvet on it.”

A lump forms in my throat, but it’s not the painful sort. Charlie misinterprets my shocked gratitude for embarrassment and flits her hand. “Don’t worry about it. We all have our quirks. I can’t wear necklaces. Makes me feel like I’m choking.”

“How’d you keep the faerie dust from melting the barrel?” I ask, eager to stop talking about the captain.

Charlie glances up at me, looking somewhat guilty. “The faerie dust that’s used to power the ship or lanterns or whatever else—it’s been altered in the factories. I used to watch them do it—take raw faerie dust and concentrate it—back when my family’s business thrived. I got to thinking, what if the faerie dust wasn’t so concentrated? What if it was raw?”

When I offer her a confused look, she pulls a pouch from her pocket. My eyes widen in recognition. It’s Peter’s pouch, the same Charlie had convinced me to throw overboard.

“I switched out the pouches,” she says, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “What you threw overboard was just a pouch of sand. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have lied to you. I just thought that if you felt like you had some agency in getting rid of it—”

She sputters to a stop as I wrap her in a quick and somewhat awkward embrace. I’m not one to touch others often, and the gesture feels like it’s all bones and limbs, but when I quickly retreat, Charlie offers me a relieved smile.

“Feeling like it was my choice to get rid of the faerie dust was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” I say, trying to keep my gaze from wandering to the pouch in her hand. To be quite honest, I’d rather she not have even admitted it was still on board. My mouth tingles just knowing it’s near.

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” Charlie says, returning the pouch to her pocket.

“It’s alright,” I say. “I’ve got to learn to ignore the urges at some point.”

“Is that what you tell yourself about Astor?” asks Charlie, not looking up from her new weapon.

My stomach jumps into my throat. “What do you mean?”

Charlie gives me a knowing look. Suddenly the skin between my shoulder blades itches, and I scratch at it absentmindedly.

“I’m betrothed to Peter,” I say.

“Right. That’s why you’re not wearing your ring.”

“It’s too big. It fell off my finger the other night. The last thing I want is for it to slip through the crack in a plank or fall overboard.”

“Mhm.”

I can feel the blotches appearing on my neck, my chest. “Charlie, please. It’s not going to happen. Between Astor and me, I mean.”

She looks up at me through her pretty, thick lashes. “Because you love Peter.”

A twitch breaks out in my eyelid, but I nod all the same. Charlie looks less than convinced, but as she wipes her grease-laden hands on her apron, she sighs placatingly. “Tell me aboutPeter, then. What is it about him that has you so smitten?” She smiles, but for the first time, it looks forced.

Still, I’m grateful for the opportunity to turn the conversation away from Astor.

“Peter…” I bite my lip, searching for the words. How does one explain why they love someone, when the feelings come without thought or intention? “It’s like all my life, my feet have been stuck on the ground, but Peter takes me to the heavens.”

Charlie bites the inside of her cheek but says nothing.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“Charlie.”

She taps her finger on the table and sighs. “It’s just…you talk about having your feet on the ground like that’s not where feet are supposed to go. It’s kind of their purpose, don’t you think?”

“It’s just a metaphor,” I say.

She shrugs as if to say,but not a very good one.

“He’s my Mate,” I say.

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