Her outburst surprised him, touched him. He felt the corners of his mouth soften into a smile and he reached through the bars to touch her hand. “Are you saying you’d miss me?” he inquired glibly, arching a brow, unable to resist the tease…and wanting very much to know the answer. He chuckled, stopped, cocked his brows at her in an expression of mock innocence. “My sense of humor is a delight,” he joked, mildly offended. “And much in demand in times of crisis.” In a sense it was true. It was the crutch James needed to deal with such situations. It was far too bleak to look her in the eye and say something somber. Besides, if this were to be their last meeting, he preferred to think she would remember him with a smile on his face and a roguish comment on his lips.
Still, she was stern and James sighed. “Would you rather I wept? I do not think that would serve anyone particularly well.” She shrugged. “Besides, this is hardly my first prison or near-death experience.” It was, however, quite possibly his last such encounter, he thought, sullenly, glancing away from her. He found he couldn’t think that while looking at her. His eyes found hers again, at last. “What would you like to discuss in such grave sobriety, Radiance?” Despite his promise of earnestness, he couldn’t keep the ribbing tone out of his voice. He never could resist joshing her.
He paused, decided to take her tack. “But you are quite correct, really,” he said with a shrug. “I ought to have paid more attention when we snuck into this castle of how those tunnels connected to these prisons. Even then, it might have been a useful thing to know.”
It was one of the useful facts he’d picked up from his extensive education, and he’d remembered the mostly-forgotten tidbit only because of Alexandir Godiva V’s exhilarating use of them. It was the Thousand Days’ King who had taken the city by sending his fittest warriors through the tunnels while assailing its walls from the outside to distract the defenders inside. It remained a footnote in history, because he had won the battle from the outside, anyway: the invaders within the castle having gotten lost and thus having proved less than useful, but still James remembered.
Alexandir had been coronated the following day in the very Great Hall that now stood stories above them. Endlessly James and Alymar had turned over the entire scenario together…but that had been another life. For the both of them. And, in any case, if Alexandir V hadn’t done it, James might never have known those tunnels existed and helped sneak his pirates inside, using them. He might never have stolen that bracelet, might never have been marooned, might never have met Celia…It was strange, history. He finally understood what his tutors had always said: everything connects. Too late.
“Truly?” he asked in surprise, suddenly glad he hadn’t tried climbing the bars, after all - but then, even a glimpse of the stars or the moon would no doubt he worth it. “I was unconscious upon arrival,” he admitted. “It didn’t particularly help in estimating the time, but I was further off the mark than I’d have thought.” Indeed, he would have ventured a guess of mid afternoon, if pressed. He was a tad disappointed in that, having given his internal more credit than, it would seem, it was due. He laughed, then, “I wonder does your mother venture properly to bed, or does the wine simply send her that way, unbidden, after a time?”
Her words took him by surprise, shocking him in the silence she seemed to crave. Her eyes were earnest, lights in her pale face. She looked tired and young, so very young, suddenly, and James caught himself thinking guilty: What have I drug her into? Celia deserved better than all of this. He chuckled as she mentioned the second time.
“Well,” he said, at last. “I suppose that bodes well for your forthcoming nuptials, considering I was Loys when you met me.” He wasn’t, though. That had been the name of his masquerade, but that night, that night he had been Harrion Mortain for the first time in so many years and he felt an odd twist in his gut to think she might have preferred Harrion to James. He wanted to hear her contradict him, too: both to hear that it was James she most liked, and to hear her say that she had decided not to marry his buffoon of a cousin. “It wasn’t so bad, after all, was it?” he found himself asking, though he’d not meant to. “We had our share of happy adventures, didn’t we?”
James chuckled. “Well said,” he replied, shrugging. “It was a…very different sort of prison, unfortunately, though you are correct on the circumstances that landed me there. I was marooned…by my brother,” he added, glancing towards the spot where Godfrey was snoring. “I stole from him, so he left me to die. There were not bars on that prison so, eventually,” he gestured with his hand. “I sailed away.” He shrugged.
“Sadly, I doubt as that shall prove as effective in this instance. But,” he narrowed his eyes. “If you truly do want to hear ideas for escape, I do have one or two. Namely, those tunnels I mentioned earlier. We used them to get from the sea to the Great Hall, before. I imagine we could use them just as effectively in getting out of here and back to sea. It would, of course, involve distracting or somehow incapacitating the guards, stealing the keys…” abruptly, he laughed. “But then, that’s a skill that might benefit you in your future marriage,” he added, amusing himself. “Loys is very fond of keys.”
James watched distress trail embarrassment across her face and, impulsively, he reached out to put his hand beneath her chin. “Chin up,” he told her. His smile was soft, his tone sincere. “Understand, Celia…I’d never give them the satisfaction of cringing. It’s not in my nature. I would just…rather die, truth be told. Perhaps I am too insensitive now to the danger, but I am not insensible of its presence. My life is cheap, and I expect I’ll not live a long one, but this is the life I’ve chosen. I’d rather die and own what life I’ve had than live any other way. So, no, this is not the worst fate I could face. But if I do die, Celia, I’ve one request to make: say that when Loys plants a passionless peck on your lips, you’ll remember what it was like when I kissed you, instead.” He grinned. “That would please me very much.”
She reminded him of her mother and James nodded. “I did underestimate her,” he admitted. “But she made a far more grave error. Whatever happens from here, you know the truth now, and you’ll be free to make your own choices. It’s the mistake she’s made all your life: thinking you live by her leave. But I know the truth. Your mother underestimated you.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” She scolded, “This isn’t because I’d miss you! I’m certain I should not! Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused since I’ve met you?” She asked, crossing her arms. The list was a long one. But so was, she realized, the list of things she’d gained from his acquaintance. She decided not to mention any of those things now. “I will be happy to be rid of you! But I ... I can’t ... sit and do nothing while you are sentenced to die.”
She rolled her eyes, “Of course not! You know that’s not what I meant. I only want you to be serious! And do ... something!” She realized she had not suggestions to offer and no help to give. She only felt as though she had exhausted every option available to her to free him and she was angry and frustrated with herself. “You’ve been in these situations before ... how did you escape last time? You could do it again!” She cried, hands grasping the bars.
As he related his time since he arrived, she began to despair in him having any sort of plan of escape. But when he mentioned the tunnels, she felt a new spark of hope. “The tunnels? The tunnels beneath the castle? I know my way through them! They connect the palace to Fain and Ravenwood! I could lead you through them!” She felt a rush of excitement at the idea, as though had solved their problem. But she had conveniently forgotten about how she would manage to sneak him out of his cell, through the prisons, and then to the tunnels in the first place.
She didn’t appreciate his comment about her mother. “Don’t speak of her!” She cried, frustrated ... even though she supposed he was right. She had never stopped to consider how much wine her mother consumed, but she now imagined that she must slowly let it put her to sleep, just as she relied on it to get herself through the day. Celia’s relationship with her mother was not what it once was ... she couldn’t trust her ... but she loved her still. Part of her wished that it could be as it had been before and he had been the one to take that from her. It was silly, she knew, to be angry with him for her mother’s behavior, when all he had done was help her to see her for who she was, but it was easier, now, to be upset with him than herself for not seeing it all sooner.
She softened, however, when he brought up their past adventures together. She didn’t mean to. She was supposed to be angry with him, but he’d managed to summon the good memories from the past few months and even though she hadn’t said it, she realized that she would miss him. She would miss him very much. One way or another he would leave this prison and, when he did, there was very little chance that they would see each other again, whatever happened.
“They weren’t all bad.” She managed, finally.
“You aren’t making any sense,” She said, when he described where he had been before this. “It was a prison, but a prison without bars? And one that you were able to simply sail away from?” Wherever he had been, it seemed very unlikely that he had gained any sort of experiences that would help them in their current situation.
She paused, suddenly realizing what else he had said, “You stole from your own brother? Why would you do such a thing? Surely he would have leant it to you, if you had only asked him?” She stopped again, considering his story, “The money from my ransom ... that is how you meant to pay him back for it? Goodness, how much did you take?”
She forgot her anger and confusion for a moment, when he began to mention the plans for escape that he did have. Why had he not mentioned all of this earlier? She thought, frustrated. But she was pacing now, her thoughts fixated on what he had said, “I might distract one of the guards ... “ She said, “But would I be able to get the keys at the same time?” She wondered, aloud. And she would need a lookout. “We need help.” She said, finally. But who could she trust? No one, she realized. No one at all.
“James, is there anyone else in the city you trust?”
She felt like slapping him when he requested that she think of him when she kissed her husband. She had no great expectations what her romance with Loys would be like (she thought it much more realistically would be nonexistent based on what James had told her), but she would not think of another man when she was with him! “How dare you say such a thing!” She cried, “I don’t expect to love him, but I will not be having any such thoughts of you! I wish you’d never kissed me and don’t mean to ever think of it again!” Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. She thought of it often, already, and a part of her suspected that she would only think on it more, rather than less. But she would rather die than let him know that.
He was right: her mother did underestimate her. Everyone did, now, except for perhaps James, himself. And for now, she realized, would be her greatest advantage.
