The Hunter's Pursuit

16. Recoil

Jacob gave himself the rest of the day before approaching Caspian about the swivel cannons. Any earlier, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself not to turn one of the cannons on Viviane.

He'd lain awake all night, listening to her faint breathing in the bunk above his and considering kicking her mattress until she toppled out of the bed. He'd restrained himself though. It would've just made things worse, and frankly, he wasn't in the mood to deal with more of Viviane's attitude than necessary.

Rather, he busied himself with puzzling over how it might be improved. If he wanted to get on good terms with her, it was clear that they had to discuss all that had ensued so many years ago. The problem was neither of them were inclined to do so.

And the more Jacob thought about it, the more confused he became. What could he have said to upset Viviane like this? How had he made her feel like shit? How was he supposed to figure out how to fix things if she wouldn't tell him?

He'd replayed the incident all night, studying every aspect of the argument, but nothing stuck out to him. By the time early morning sunlight was slipping through the portholes, Jacob had determined that Viviane would either have to explain herself to him, or they would bear their grudges for years to come.

Jacob swung his feet off the side of his bunk and pulled his boots close. Hammocks creaked and mattresses shifted as the other crewmen began to rouse themselves. Jacob buckled Arlen's sheath around his waist and made sure a pistol was securely attached to the other side of his belt. He pulled half of his hair back in a braid, then moved to stand just as a pair of feet shifted off the top bunk.

Jacob ducked in the nick of time. He raised an irritated blue gaze towards Viviane, who merely smirked at him. If he wasn't reserving his patience for the lesson ahead, he would've been tempted to return it, and might've added a quip certain to aggravate her. Instead, he pushed her feet aside and headed towards the galley, where a small curly head had lifted from its pillow.

Kitty smiled when she saw him approaching. "Morning, Miss Katrina." Jacob paused beside her bed. "Will you be joining our lessons today?"

Kitty bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't like guns or cannons," she spoke softly. Her voice grew fainter as she added, "And the iron hurts."

"Ah." He crouched, meeting her gaze. "Well, that's all right. I'm sure we can find another way for you to help." Kitty smiled again and Jacob straightened, ruffling her hair before heading updeck.

Caspian and Prim greeted him just outside their quarters. "I let Caleb know about your plans," Caspian said. "The Boys will get their work done first and then you can have your way with them." Jacob flashed a lopsided grin. "Do you have a plan for teaching them to use these cannons?"

Jacob shrugged. "I'm more or less going to show them how to load the cannons, then let them practice firing. Empty shots only, of course."

"Someone will still end up hurt," Prim snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Not if they listen to instructions and mind their manners," a lilting voice trilled behind him. Jacob crossed his arms, not looking at Viviane though he felt her pointed gaze. Prim and Caspian glanced between the two of them.

Prim cleared her throat and reached for Viviane's arm. "Come on. I could use some help rolling another few barrels of salted meat into the galley." Viviane didn't protest as Prim led her away.

"You two seem a little more tense than normal," Caspian remarked once they were out of hearing.

"Take it up with her, not me," Jacob muttered. "I've learned that she's still mad about something I said when I confessed my feelings for her, but I can't figure out what, and she won't tell me."