14. In the Lighthouse

Sienna carefully climbed the steep stairs up to the lighthouse tower, carefully stepping over the third, eighth, and twelfth steps to avoid the telltale creaks that always seemed twice as loud in the middle of the night. If the sound of deep, even breathing she had heard from outside her father's room was any indication, Casper was still sleeping soundly downstairs, and she intended to keep it that way. There was no sense in both of them being exhausted due to interrupted sleep when she was more than capable of refilling the oil and winding the lamp on her own.

She appreciated his attentiveness, especially after the incident with the fire the day before, but between the added work of completely restocking the wood supply, finishing the decorations for Devri, and just completing her daily tasks, Sienna had not yet had the time to simply sit and decompress.

The attacks—or what certainly seemed to be attacks—on her life were disconcerting to say the least. She was more thankful than ever that her father had insisted on leaving Casper behind to look out for her. If not for him, she would have been dead after the first attempt.

But Casper's presence brought with it a whole new, complicated set of issues. She had promised him that she wouldn't fall in love with him in a week, and so far, that promise was technically being kept. She couldn't say that she was in love with the grumpy captain who hid his sense of humor where only his friends could find it, and who was surprisingly skilled and passionate when it came to music. Who took the well-being of those under his care seriously enough to sacrifice his own health and safety in favor of theirs, and who was willing to exile himself to a foreign realm in order to rectify a problem that was not his responsibility to fix.

She was not in love with Casperion Helmrud.

She was, however, certainly well on her way.

That ship had already set sail.

Sienna had refilled the oil in the lamp, wound the mechanism for the turntable that kept the light moving from side to side, and was just starting to clean the lens when she heard the creak of the stairs. A few moments later, Casper's head appeared in the trap door on the floor. He yawned as he climbed ungracefully over the edge.

"Why didn't you wake me?" He blinked bleary eyes at her and scrubbed a hand through his adorably ruffled hair.

She gave him what Devri would call "The Look." "I've been doing this myself for the last several months, Casper. There didn't seem to be much sense in waking you to do a job that I can complete on my own."

"A few months ago you didn't have a shoulder still healing from being dislocated, or someone trying to kill you."

"We can't actually prove that's what is happening."

Casper's look was tired and unimpressed. He drawled, "I'm fairly certain we do." He crossed the narrow floor and swiped the cloth from her hands.

"Hey!" She jumped for it, but he held it high and out of reach.

"It's my turn."

She jumped a few more times before giving up with a frustrated growl. She didn't dare fight him for it—not here, not with so many invaluable, breakable pieces.

She started to step away, but Casper draped an arm over her shoulders and held her in place. His head tipped against hers with a quiet sigh as he continued cleaning the glass lens. Sienna froze. Casper had been attentive over the last few days, but always from a distance. The longest he had allowed her to touch him was during their walk to the caves, and she had a feeling it was only because she had been injured and he felt as if it were his duty to escort her.

This action was…unusually affectionate.

She blamed the sleep deprivation.

After all, he had been even more adamant than she that it was only for a week.

"There." Casper ran the cloth over the lens one last time before hanging it on its designated hook. "All done." He yawned. "Can we go back to sleep now?"

Sienna reached up and patted him twice on the chest. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."

In a flash, his hand had captured her own and was holding it captive against his heart. He froze.

So did she.

The sudden tension in the room was thick enough to cut it with a knife. Casper turned slowly, angling his body just enough to see her face. His eyes were full of tortured longing. "Si," he whispered, lifting his hand to skim the top of her cheek.

She waited, breathlessly, for something to happen.

Nothing did.

After a moment, he seemed to collect himself. He shook his head and stepped back, looking down. When he lifted his face again, it wore the same broody expression as always, and his voice was gruff as he spoke. "You should go to sleep."

Sienna sighed inwardly, though she really couldn't fault him.

I'm just letting this idea of being engaged to him run away with my emotions.

"I'll be down in a few minutes. I'm just going to watch the water for a few minutes. There's a clear sky tonight."

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to the tall windows and picked up a spyglass, training it on the horizon as she swept her gaze back and forth.

Casper stood beside her and clasped his hands behind his back as he waited. The silence that stretched between them felt awkward after…whatever it was that had just happened. Sienna grasped at anything to break it.

"I've been thinking—this breach that you were talking about is, it's near Norditch, which means that the Flying Dutchman is probably from there."

Even with her eyes glued to the instrument in her hand, she could feel him tense.

Interesting. I wonder if he's had any encounters with him before.

"The moniker he's been given would seem to indicate that as well."

"It does?"

"Mmhmm. It's not hard to see how Norditchman could be shortened to Dutchman over time."

"I guess that's true." She set the spyglass down and glanced at him. His muscles were tense and rigid, though his face held no sign of discomfort. "What about the flying part?"

He shrugged. "My conjecture is that someone likely saw his ship approaching in the fog or some other form of bad weather and an optical illusion occurred. Or perhaps the story just became so sensationalized as it was passed on that it was just accepted that he was flying. Or even a little of both. The more a story is passed along from person to person, the harder it becomes to separate fact from fiction."

Sienna turned fully to squarely face him, wrapping her arms around her middle to stem the temptation to slide them around his and step into his arms. "Have you ever seen him?"

A shadow crossed in front of his face. "Several times."

That's it? Give me more to go with than that, Casp!

"And…?" she prompted.

He raised an eyebrow. "And what?"

"And, did he actually fly? What was he like? Did he terrorize the Johns? Did Jem give him advice from his dear old Mormor?"

"Why are you so invested?"

"Just curious." She loosened a hand long enough to poke him in the arm. "So?"

Casper sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. His gaze turned to the window and the dark sea beyond. "Jem would give Mormor's advice to anyone he met, regardless of legend status. The Johns are not easily terrorized, and men from Norditch as a rule are unable to fly."

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her. The answer was just so…Casper. Delivered with the same dry tone that she had heard him dish out to Jem on so many occasions, the information was exactly what she asked for, nothing less and nothing more.

Except.

"What about my second question? What was he like?"

Casper's eyes slid from the view back to her.

"He was hopeless."