Embark | h.s

Eight

Men repaired the hole in the ceiling of the captain's cabin as Celia and Harry ate breakfast. They sat at the table with Nerissa in her crib nearby, Ana tending to her. Eating fruit and bread, the room was practically silent, save for the pounding of nails into wooden panels.

"Celia," Harry said, breaking the thick silence between them. She raised her eyes to him as she chewed on a bite of bread. "Can we talk?"

Celia swallowed and gulped down a sip of wine. "Of course."

"Outside?"

She felt Ana's eyes on her, waiting for her response and curious as to what would be said between them. Celia nodded, standing up from her seat and following Harry out to the balcony. He led her over to the railing of the ship. Celia glued her eyes to the horizon, but she could feel Harry staring down at her intently. She watched the waves lapping against the side of the boat, the blue liquid crashing and creating white foam.

"I care about you," he said suddenly.

Celia moved her eyes to his face. He clenched his jaw tightly and released repeatedly. "I would hope so," she said softly, her lips tugging upward slightly, trying to lighten the tension between them. His features were still hard. She sighed. "I care about you, too, Harry. Isn't that a given?"

"Hear me out," he said, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to take it. "Do you remember when you said I owed you nothing?"

She knitted her brows together. Her heart raced inside her chest, palms growing sweaty with anxiety. She nodded rigidly as the memories of standing on the beach in England swirled inside her mind.

"Well, now I do. I promised to spend eternity with you and our baby. But you're unhappy. I can see it in your eyes."

"I'm not," Celia said.

"You are," he continued. "I've forced you to go on a journey that you didn't want to go on, made you take up a life that you don't want, all because I was so sure that I harbored strong feelings for you." Celia's heart skipped a beat. Harry scrambled to find words to correct what he had said. "I'm not saying I don't love you, I do with all my heart. But perhaps we weren't ready for marriage—to commit our lives to each other."

Anger sizzled within Celia's body. She inhaled slowly before taking a step forward, their chests only inches apart. "I was fully prepared to dedicate my life to you. I married you in secret, sullied my relationship with the Queen, lived in prison for six months, and followed you on this blasted journey to the New World because of you—for you!" She narrowed her blue eyes into crescents, sending her piercing gaze upward to his eyes. She hoped that a morsel of her anger would seep into his eyes and penetrate his heart, allowing him to understand all that she has sacrificed for their relationship.

Harry stood there, a blank expression painted on his face. His eyes were emotionless as they reciprocated her stare. "I—"

Celia interrupted him by raising her hand. "Save it. Mull over what I've said. Come back to me when you fully understand my situation." She spun on her heel and stalked away, her fiery curls blowing in the salty wind.

✿

Days passed by in a creeping pace. Harry had avoided Celia, and she him. Their bed remained stiff with silence as they climbed into it for sleeping purposes only, with the occasional pleasantry mumbled between them.

Since the miraculous recovery of Nerissa, Harry had grown fond of Andrew. He seemed to have taken Celia's place. In return, Daniel remained by her side in the absence of Harry.

Celia and Daniel stood in the kitchen below the weather deck. Nerissa was being watched by Ana in the nursery, and Harry was nowhere to be seen by his wife ever since he had quietly slipped into bed the night prior. Daniel and Celia spoke to the cook about arrangements for when they reached the New World, but Daniel had done most of the talking.

Celia stared off into space, her vision blurring as she focused on nowhere in particular. The voices of Daniel and the cook merged into one, creating a dull buzz in the background. She was so tired. Her life had been flipped completely upside down, and no matter how hard she tried, he could not level it out. She began to wonder how long her marriage would last.

"My lady?"

She ignored the voice that referred to her as it rose above the drifting buzzing background noise, and blinked slowly. Everything seemed to be coated in a layer of grey haze, taking away the brightness of life.

"Lady Styles?"

The voice had a pleading tone to it. Her mouth went dry as she noticed the sudden disappearance of the blurred voices. She shifted her head slightly, noticing the absence of Daniel in her peripheral. Turning her body around completely to search the room for her friend, her eyes caught a body in motion on the ground by the pantry. Daniel flopped around on the wooden planks like a fish out of water. The cook was crouched beside him, eyes widened with terror.

She ran over to him and clutched his convulsing body. "Fetch the doctor," she said. The cook stood to his feet, but remained in the room, as if his shoes were filled with stones to keep him in place. Celia lifted her eyes to him. "Now!"

The cook scurried away, leaving Celia to hold the shoulders of Daniel in place as he shook violently. His eyes rolled back, showing only a sliver of his green irises. Saliva gathered in his mouth and escaped out of the corners of his lips. Celia recited a prayer as she tried to steady him.

Footsteps clamored against the floor like a stampede of horses, and came to a sudden stop behind Celia. It was silent in the kitchen as she mumbled the Lord's Prayer, her body moving frantically with Daniel's as she clasped her weak hands around his broad shoulders. Tears gathered in her eyes. Slowly, his body stopped its convulsions and went limp in her arms.

His chest rose and fell gently, like small waves of the ocean swelling and softly lapping against the sandy shore. Celia's lower lip trembled as she watched his face carefully. His eyes were closed, cracked lips parted slightly, sweat dotting his sun kissed skin. Pressure filled the room, crushing her body to a pulp. She watched intently as his lungs filled with air, his chest rising, and then falling one final time.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Tears fell down her cheeks in a steady stream without her knowledge. "Daniel?" she whispered in a feeble voice.

No answer.

Her jaw hung open as she gasped for air. She felt an immense pain in her chest, spreading through her body to the very tips of her fingers and toes. A dull ringing in her ears transformed into a high pitched pang, muffling the voices that stirred amongst the men behind her. Her limbs tingled until they went numb. She could barely feel the large hands that curled around her arms as she was lifted to her feet, swept away from Daniel as a group of men crowded around his body, Andrew amongst them.

Once she was outside of the room, she lifted her teary eyes to Harry as he shut the door. He then looked down at her with a frown. He made sure there was a few feet between their bodies, their argument still fresh in his mind.

The ringing subsided. Her palms were slowly able to feel again. She bit her quivering lip and blinked away tears as she flung her eyes down to her feet.

Harry pushed their argument out of his mind and allowed his hand to brush against her cheek, cupping it and lifting her head upward. She shut her eyes tight to avoid his gaze. His other hand rested on her waist. She re-opened her eyes and looked into his. They were brimming with tears of his own.

In that moment, all of their struggles slipped Celia's mind. She submitted herself to the pain and grief of Daniel's death, and fell into her husband's comforting arms.