In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (best business books of all time txt) 📗

“I’ll manage.”

Dara sighed. “Go to sleep, princeling.”

Tal winced at the moniker, panic thumping hard in his middle, and he roused out of his drowsiness, Zeph’s sneers and taunts echoing in his ears. “Tal please. Just… call me Tal.”

“Tal,” Dara said, tone going soft. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning. You too, Athlen. You swam for hours—you must be exhausted.”

Athlen’s shoulders relaxed and he wilted forward, propping his head on his hands, his elbows on his knees. Fatigue was evident in the line of his body and the circles under his eyes. Tal hadn’t noticed before. “You’ll watch over him?”

“Of course. My mother won’t start to worry until the morning.”

Athlen nodded, his eyelids lowering. He tossed his hat into a rounded corner. “I’ll be right here. I won’t go into the water. Just in case you need me.”

He didn’t move to another part of the cavern, merely curled into a ball on his side, his head pillowed on his hands, a testament to his exhaustion. Lying on the shelf, he was level with Tal. Their faces were a scant foot apart, the side of the boat the only thing between them. In the low light and shadows Athlen appeared otherworldly—cold and beautiful and beyond Tal’s reach. But his smile was warm.

“Thank you,” Tal whispered. “Thank you both.”

“Go to sleep, Tal.”

Tal nodded and closed his eyes, face tipped toward Athlen, secure in the knowledge that both his new friends would watch over him in the night.

“Tal! Wake up! I brought food.”

Tal startled, body jumping, boat rocking beneath him. His eyes flew open, and he groaned, clenching them shut as the high sun blinded him. He attempted to throw up a hand as a shield but found himself bundled in a way he couldn’t move. He squeezed his eyes shut, intense orange bleeding through his eyelids.

“You’ve been asleep for hours. It’s almost midday.”

A shadow passed over him, and cautiously Tal cracked open an eye. He’d slept the morning away, yet he could have continued sleeping if Athlen hadn’t been so loud.

Athlen stood above him, wearing his wide-brimmed hat and a shirt and a pair of trousers with tattered hems and a hole in the knee. His pale toes wrapped around the edge of the ledge. He held a tin pan of food that smelled hot and delicious enough to rouse Tal. His stomach rumbled as he untucked his blankets and pushed his body to sitting.

“Here. It’s from the tavern. I asked for everything they had for breakfast.” Athlen set it on Tal’s lap with a wide grin. “I have to return the plate when I go for lunch. And I promise to clean off a spot today for your bed. I know you don’t want to be in that boat any longer than you have to.”

Athlen rambled while Tal stared down at the pile of fluffy eggs, sausage links, and two large biscuits. His stomach cramped with hunger and nausea. He balanced the plate on his knees, and using his unbound hand, he scooped the food into his mouth with abandon. The eggs were salty, the sausage was greasy, and the biscuits were a little hard, probably a day old, but it was the best meal Tal had eaten since leaving the castle. He shoveled it in, uncaring that he was staining the bandages on his fingers or that all sense of decorum had been tossed aside in favor of food.

“Here’s water.”

Athlen’s voice startled Tal, so focused was he on the plate in front of him, but he took the canteen gratefully and sucked down the cool, clean water between bites.

“Dara left before dawn, but she’ll be back this afternoon to check on you,” Athlen said as he moved gracefully around his home. He had a pile of blankets at the entrance that he’d brought with the plate of food. He moved to the spot closest to the wall and cleared a space, pieces of gold, jewels, and earthenware plunking into the water or rolling along the rocky ledge. Athlen hauled the blankets over and laid them out with care, straightening the edges and smoothing down the plush fabric. “I heard that princes are used to thick beds. Is this good, or do I need to get more blankets?”

Tal smiled, and warmth that wasn’t related to his fever spread through his chest. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

Athlen grinned. “How’s the food?”

“It’s good. It’s the most I’ve had in days.” Tal flinched as soon as the words tumbled out, and he was awash in the memory of the gnawing hunger and unceasing thirst that had plagued him while he was on the ship. He absently licked his fingers, then bit into another sausage as his thoughts raced inevitably toward the circumstances of his escape and his mind’s eye replayed cruel images of the choices he’d made. He drank more water, and it sloshed down his throat, hitting his filling stomach. He grimaced, feeling the food as well as his guilt stack up in his gullet, his next bite lodging at the top. Everything soured and was rejected, and Tal clapped a hand over his mouth, willing the food to stay down. It didn’t work, and he doubled over before vomiting into the water. His back bowed, and his stomach heaved, and tears streamed from the corners of his eyes.

He hated boats. He hated water. He hated throwing up. And he hated that this had become a common occurrence.

Once it was over, he dropped heavily back into his blankets. Sweating, he breathed deeply and swallowed several times to keep another incident at bay.

Athlen stared at him, clutching his hat, skin pale. “Is that normal?”

A laugh bubbled up at the ridiculousness, and Tal clutched his stomach with his good arm. “No, it’s not. I think I ate too much too fast. I’m sorry I wasted it.”

Athlen waved Tal’s concern away. His mouth tilted in worry and uncertainty. “Should I get Dara?”

“No.” Tal shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we should