The Queen of Golden Flame

28. Christian

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Yes."

"And you've gone over all the backup plans and all the other possible outcomes?"

"Over and over. Come up with every way it could go right and wrong. Up to us now."

Christian scanned the tabletop, covered in blueprints of the castle with the escape routes circled, aged maps of the whole country, past newspaper headlines from galas before and portraits of the royal family from old to new. If someone were to look at their plans they might think they were trying to assassinate the family instead with their obsessive scribbling and spilled ink pots long forgotten.

When he didn't respond, Atlas looked up at him. "What? Think it won't work?"

"No... well." He released a sigh, gripping the edge of the desk as if it were the only thing still holding him together. "I'd just hate to see anyone get hurt."

"Job's a job, Christian. They knew what they signed up for. You knew that. Nothin' we can do about it now 'cept try to stop it."

"I know," he began, and found his gaze trailing away from the Captain, "When Kali came to me about this job, I wanted to do it but now..."

"Not quitting on me, are you, Ledford?"

Christian guffawed. "What? No, of course not. It's just all hitting me now. The reality of it, I mean."

Atlas nodded, hands in his pockets. He'd stepped away from the desk so now they were face to face, only focused on each other and their conversation, nothing to use as a distraction anymore. "I understand. 'Ts hard, doin' your first job. Especially one like this."

"Yeah, risking our necks to help a country in a war that none of our own countries are involved in. No pressure."

Atlas reclined back against the wall, ankles and arms crossed. "But it's worth it. Y'know, once we get our prizes. What'd she promise you?"

Christian paused. "What?"

Atlas eyed him knowingly. "You know what I'm talkin' about. What'd she promise you?"

The peaceful levity of his voice, as if they were simply talking around a tavern fire, sent a chill up his spine, and yet the truth came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Like a spiteful idiot, he blurted out with much more aggression than he would've liked, "A life worth living for."

Atlas nodded to himself, but when he did not elaborate further Christian noticed the man's eyes slide down to his exposed wrists. Without thinking, he dove for his sleeves and began to unroll them until his arms were completely covered, and if color could warm his cheeks and breath could capture his lungs, he was certain his breath would've hitched and his cheeks would've flushed. Atlas belatedly seemed to notice his slipup and he made a show of looking away, but it was too late.

He knew. He knew. He knew. He knew.

"I wanted a bigger ship," he offered, as if to lighten the mood. It did not help.

Christian's black eyes slid up to Atlas's. "Does that still matter to you?"

"Does yours still matter to you?"

Christian thought of gulls and luscious green hills and happy, boisterous laughs. He thought of tea cups and heights and cheeky smiles and pink lips...

He cracked his knuckles. "I don't know anymore."
Atlas hummed his acknowledgement. "Why did you want it?"

Christian shrugged. "I'm immortal. I can't die naturally, and y'know, after living so many lives and spending so much time running... I got so tired of living, that when Kali gave me her offer I was willing to take it, but now it doesn't seem like such a big prize."