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

it from Tal in half a conversation. “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s time you talk.” Athlen slunk away, shoulders hunched, affecting a picture of vulnerability. “What happened to that ship?”

Athlen fidgeted, worrying the buttons of his shirt with quick fingers. “Squall,” he said after a long pause. “I tried to warn them. They didn’t listen. They were not sailors like”—he waved his hands—“your people. Lightning struck the mast, and they fled in the small boats.”

“They left you to die?”

Athlen shrugged. “I had served my purpose.”

“How long have you been adrift?”

“Three sunrises.” He picked up his foot. “I can’t get it off. I’m not good with metal.”

Bruises ringed Athlen’s ankle and smattered across the top of his foot, and his skin was raw where the iron had rubbed. Tal clenched his fists. Three days. Trapped on a burning wreck for three days while it took on water and drifted, at risk of dehydration and drowning, not to mention burning to death. Tal couldn’t imagine. He didn’t want to imagine. It was a wonder Athlen had survived.

“Why were you on the ship? What was your purpose?”

Athlen’s expression darkened and he turned away from Tal. “Tell the commander I wish to be released. I have done nothing wrong.”

The change in his mood, from cautious but amiable to angry, caught Tal off guard. He tugged on his sleeves, pretending to straighten them to hide his surprise. “I’ll tell him.” Tal turned to go, but Athlen caught his arm. His strong fingers wrapped around Tal’s elbow.

“Wait.” Tal stilled. Athlen licked his lips. “Can you get it off? With your magic?”

Tal’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not supposed—”

“Please.” His gaze darted from Tal to the stairs. A breeze ruffled his copper hair. “If you set me free, I’ll tell you everything. You know I wasn’t one of them, and they had me for weeks. I know what they were planning. I know where they got the gold.” He looked up to Tal, his eyes wet with unshed tears, his expression pleading. “Please.”

Tal covered Athlen’s hand with his own and removed it from his arm. He shouldn’t. His magic wasn’t meant for frivolous things. Garrett was right, though. Athlen was terrified. He was angry. He was a victim, and the iron around his ankle was a reminder. Tal could do this for him. He should do this for him. This journey was about learning to make decisions, and this would be his first one. He would use his magic for a good deed.

“You vowed to not hurt me. This”—he pointed to the iron—“is hurting me.”

Magic simmered under Tal’s skin as Athlen invoked the promise. “Sit down,” Tal said gruffly.

Athlen scrambled back to the trunk and propped his foot up on the lid, completely trusting. A pang of protectiveness lanced through Tal’s gut at Athlen’s bent posture. He swallowed nervously as he held out his hand and spread his fingers. He took a steadying breath and called his magic to his hand, a talent he’d mastered long ago. He focused on the band of metal, concentrated on breaking it as his magic swirled up through his body. Heat pooled in his middle, and warmth rushed up the length of his spine into the tips of his fingers. With a focused push he targeted the fetter, and a tangle of sparks leaped from his hand.

The anklet turned cherry red, glowing brighter and brighter, then burst. Shards flew outward with such force they buried in the deck.

Athlen stared with wide, grateful eyes, then a smile broke out over his features like the sun breaking through the clouds. His cheeks dimpled, and Tal’s gut flipped with something other than seasickness at the sight.

“That was amazing!”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Athlen flexed his foot, pointing his toe, then rubbed his hand over the bare skin. “Thank you. Thank you, Tal.”

For the first time since Tal had left his home yesterday, he grinned. “You’re welcome.”

Athlen jumped to his feet and seized Tal’s hand in both of his own. Tal resisted the urge to jerk away, instead stilling, muscles tense as Athlen turned Tal’s palm over in inspecting it with a somber intensity. With a furrowed brow, he ran the calloused pads of his fingertips over the smooth skin between Tal’s fingers and along the underside of his wrist, his touch unusually cool. No one had touched Tal like this before, with impropriety and wonder, not even his family, and his heart pounded in his ears. Athlen lifted Tal’s hand closer, his breath warm and rhythmic on Tal’s skin, before he pressed a kiss to the palm. His eyelashes fluttered against Tal’s fingers, and Tal exhaled in staccato.

“Your magic is wonderful,” Athlen whispered. “I’ll remember you.”

Tal couldn’t speak, but he was sure Athlen could see the thundering of his pulse beneath the thin skin of his wrist.

The sound of footsteps descending on the ladder broke the moment, and the boys sprang apart. Tal’s cheeks flushed as red as the setting sun and felt equally as hot.

“You’ve been down here a while, Tally,” Garrett said as he dropped to the deck. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes.” The word came out shaky and breathless, and Tal wanted to crawl into the bilge.

“Tal freed me,” Athlen said, showing off his foot.

Garrett’s eyebrows twitched at the informal name, and Tal hastened to explain.

“I broke the fetter. He said he’d tell us about the gold and the ship if we freed him. He told me how the ship was destroyed beforehand.” Garrett’s expression remained unchanged. “He’s been adrift for three days,” Tal continued, feeling the inexorable need to justify himself, to reassure Garrett of his decisions and his use of magic. “He needs food and water and—”

“Light,” Athlen added. He pointed up. “Light and air, please.”

Garrett looked between them, hands on his hips, eyes sparkling with amusement. He pointed a finger at Athlen. “A few minutes of fresh air, then water and food in my quarters, where you will talk.”

Athlen nodded quickly, and after Garrett gestured with his hand,