With Courage [King Caspian X OC]

Chapter 4

The following morning, mere minutes after I leave the deck for a glass of water, I come back out to the dazzling sun to see that a spar has begun. Though not just any spar – Caspian has challenged Edmund.

It's an elegance I've never seen before, a dance in perfect balance. Everyone on deck has either pressed themselves against the sides of the ship or climbed to an elevation where they're not at risk while the two kings caper, attacking with perfect form and precision. I'm mesmerized by their skill, how effortlessly they can transform a leap into a lunge, or a dive into a deflect. Their blades cross into a golden X, the sunlight sliding across the metal as they push, until Caspian twists and swings to rest the sword at Edmund's neck, ending the match.

I clap the best I can with the glass of water still in my hand, admiring how Caspian flips his broadsword back into his scabbard with a casual ease – though I quite like the idea of him practicing it religiously in private until the move was perfect. "Alright, back to work!" Drinian barks from the forecastle, where he's often perched like a crow, looking down at the deck while he's overseeing the wheel.

Caspian notices me and I hold up the glass of water in offering – with the way his chest is rising and falling rapidly, he has more need of it than I do. He jogs over and mumbles his thanks before downing half the glass. "I think after some more training, I'd quite like to duel you." I muse. I ignore the obvious – I've won a singular match, and that was through sheer dumb luck – and instead welcome the idea of sharing a moment like that with Caspian. Close enough to see the light in his eyes, how they shine when he's deciding his next move or how he relishes in each successful strike, his movements strong and confident when fueled with a growing adrenaline. It's hypnotic.

He raises his eyebrows and smirks. "Oh really? Well, after a few years maybe you can last longer than a minute." He winks and takes another sip. I let out an exaggerated hiss and hold my hand over my heart in mock pain.

"How rude, your Majesty. Is that how you talk to your inferiors?" He leans his head back, shaking it slightly and chuckling.

"The ones who say they want to fight me, yes." He responds, turning to me.

"Consider the proposition revoked." I hold my hands up and bow, a teasing smile tugging the corners of my mouth up. He smiles and leans his elbows back on the railing, stretching his legs out in front and resting his cheek on his shoulder as he turns to me.

"Are you more comfortable at sea now?"

"I am. The people here are nicer than most of the people I knew in London." I nod, looking over the deck in gratitude. On the opposite side, Marco is halfway up the ratlines securing a knot that had loosened, watched closely by Reepicheep who's nimbly jumping across the rope talking about a marsh-wiggle he met as a child. Tavros and a group of seamen are transporting crates below deck while Drinian rests beside the stairs leading to the forecastle platform sharpening a blade and sporadically yelling at someone. While Drinian may not be the embodiment of a sweet summer rose, he's still considerably kinder than the man who once bellowed at me because I took a second more to move forward in line when buying groceries last year.

"I accept only the best men in my crew, though you make me wonder if I should have included women too."

"How so?"

"You have a way with ordering the crew that makes them work more efficiently than they would've done if I was the one commanding." I raise my eyebrows in doubt. "Take Marco for example, he's the best in terms of rowing, a skilled fighter with an impeccable memory, though he's always been lax when it comes to deck maintenance. That changed when you started pointing out his mistakes. His clove hitch knots have never been better."