Duty Bound

Chapter 11

A week passed aboard the Evangeline without further incident, and there was nothing to get in the way of Amy's recuperation. Ms. Lamb applied some sort of stinging paste to Amy's wounds at night, swearing that it would speed up the healing process. Then she cleaned it off in the mornings and wrapped her in fresh gauze.

Amy could never quite bring herself to look Ms. Lamb in the eye. This perfect stranger saw her practically naked, touched her, and all but swaddled her like an infant. She was grateful that Ms. Lamb seemed to sense her humiliation, and minimized conversation to a cursory greeting and polite requests to lift an arm or turn around when necessary.

Despite the daily degradation, she was pleased that her wounds were healing. The pain gradually faded until all she felt was the tight pull of the stitches and the occasional itch.

She dined with her uncle every evening, but Captain Crowley no longer joined them, clearly preferring to have his dinner with the staff. He rarely came up from his room, except to snatch a book from her uncle's library.

She devised a plan over the course of the week. It was clear that her uncle wanted her to remain on the Evangeline for good, but she had no intention of spending the rest of her life in hiding. She needed to get to the Crown Court, and she would need Crowley's help to do it.

She gathered her courage and crept belowstairs when she was fairly sure that no staff would be down there. She felt like a terrible intruder, but there was no other option. If Crowley was going to stay locked up in his room, she'd have to come to him.

She came to a hallway with doors to staff bedrooms, and realized that she had no idea which one was Crowley's. All the doors were closed, and she didn't wish to try any of them and get the wrong one.

"Captain Crowley!" she called out, feeling like an awful fool.

There was no answer. Perhaps he was somewhere upstairs.

She called his name again, but none of the doors opened. She turned to go and gasped when she saw a man standing behind her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "You startled me. I'm looking for Captain Crowley."

"He's not here, your highness," the man said. He looked down at her in a way which made her nervous. He was smiling, but there was hatred in his eyes. Even disgust.

"Do you know where he is?" she asked, refusing to be intimidated by a servant.

"I'm afraid not. But I'll tell him your highness was looking for him. I'd better escort you upstairs. This is no place for a princess," the man said, and started walking toward the stairs.

"What is your name?" Amy asked.

"Martin," the man said. "At your service."

"Thank you, Martin, I'll manage from here," Amy said.

"Princess!" a familiar voice exclaimed from above, and she saw Captain Crowley looking down at her in shock.

"I've been looking for you, Captain," she said, relieved.

"You shouldn't be here," he frowned, coming down the stairs. He shot Martin a look, and there was clearly some meaning there that Amy couldn't decipher.

"I need to speak with you in private," she explained. "Please take me to your quarters."

Crowley looked dumbfounded by her request.

"If you'd be so kind as to leave us, Martin?" she asked with a tightlipped grin.

The footman bowed and disappeared upstairs with a look of dissatisfaction.

"Perhaps upstairs would be more suitable—" Crowley started.

"I can't risk my uncle overhearing us. What I want to tell you must stay between us, do you understand?" she said gravely.

Crowley nodded and wordlessly led her to one of the rooms. Once she was inside, he closed the door as silently as he could.

The room was practically a broom closet – bare and cold. Just a bed and a table. She noted the stack of books Crowley had cultivated, and couldn't help but smile.

"What can I do for you, your highness?" Crowley asked.

He looked rumpled, like he'd only recently gotten out of bed. His hair was charmingly tousled, and his white shirt was only halfway tucked into his pants. She liked him like this. Even though he had gone stiff as a board in her presence, she enjoyed seeing him scruffy.

"I need your help," Amy explained. "I have a plan to get into the Crown Court undetected, but I won't be able to do it without you."

"I'm listening," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He did his best to look serious, but his suspenders were hanging down. Amy did her best not to laugh.

"Ms. Lamb told me that the Evangeline docks in two days to load up on supplies. What I want to do is sneak off the ship and find employment on one of the trading vessels. I'll stay on board until it docks at the capital. Then I'll sneak off and make my way to the Crown Court. No one need know who I am. I will, however, require your protection."

"I see," Crowley said, raking a hand through his hair.

"I hope I haven't upset your plans," Amy said. "I'm sure my uncle would have been glad to allow you to stay."

"Oh, you have no need to worry about that," he smiled to himself. "I think I'd go mad if I had to stay here for much longer."

"In that case, it's settled," Amy smiled.

"I only have one reservation," Crowley said.

"Oh?"

"I daresay you don't know much about life as a commoner, let alone working on a ship as part of a crew – no offense, your highness," he said.

"None taken, Captain."

"I must ask that you allow me to take the lead. You must do as I say, and you mustn't be seen to be giving me orders. At least not in front of others. It would give you away, you understand," he explained.

"I suppose," Amy said.

"If you truly wish to be undetected, you must forget you are a royal."

Amy looked up from the floor, and noted that there was a spark of excitement in his eyes, almost exactly like what she'd seen when he'd given her his flask back in the West Woods. Her heart sank when she realized that it was eerily similar to what she had seen in Martin's eyes only moments ago. It was subtle, but it was there.

"Already forgotten," she smiled, doing her best to hide her disappointment. Crowley may have defended her back in the woods, but only because that was his duty. She didn't know why she found that upsetting.

It occurred to her that since she'd met him, she'd been harboring a pathetic hope that he might have developed some semblance of friendly feeling toward her. She gritted her teeth, feeling like an utter fool.

"I'll show you upstairs," he said, opening the door for her.

As he led her out of the barren room, she told herself that no matter what, she must remember who she was. She was princess, and he had to do what she asked. Even if she asked him to shoot his own foot, he had to do it. He was lucky she was nothing like her sisters had been before they'd been poisoned by her brother, since that was exactly the kind of antics they were known for.

But her attempt to find solace in her role was fruitless. Deep down, she knew that everything her tutors had ever taught her about divine right was a bunch of drivel. Out in the real world, she was someone for people like Crowley to tolerate.