The small storage room across the deck was often used to hold meetings with crew members. If there was a plan to be made, a map to chart, or a conversation to be had, this was the place for it. It did not surprise Samson that Natalia had asked him to join her there. The mess on the deck was, for the most part, under control when Samson exited his cabin, making the walk to it easy. When Samson entered, he was somewhat surprised to find Natalia on her own. No other members of the crew joined her, and she sat at the head of the table with a stern frown and a thick wrinkle chiseled onto her face.

Samson sat, and took a breath. “Are you alright?” His throat felt tight, but the words came out regardless.

“Yes. I’m fine. The crew is fine. This conversation isn’t about my wellbeing, Samson. It’s about yours.” She crossed her arms in front of her, resting them on the table. “He shouldn’t be here.”

Samson sighed. He should have known. “He will be home soon. I’ve promised him that we will not inconvenience him further than necessary.” She was right. Elias belonged somewhere much nicer than in his cabin. Keeping him here wasn’t right. That he had been pulled away from his life at all was a disgrace.

“I know this is something you’re sensitive about, but I’m going to be blunt. He’s not good for you.”

Samson’s brow narrowed. “Natalia.”

She shook her head “No. You’re not going to Natalia me and win this argument just because you’re sad about some guy you knew ten years ago. Him being on the ship puts us all in danger, and more than that, would you look at yourself?”

Samson’s fists clenched under the table and he took a long, slow breath. Snapping at people for voicing concerns wasn’t in his nature. Refusing to hear out his first mate wasn’t, either. He sat there, quiet for a moment, doing his best to digest the words. But Elias wasn’t bad. Elias was, truly, the best thing that had ever happened to him. “If I am injured in his service, it’s alright. Loving him is the reason that I can withstand it.”

“I’m not even talking about that. You can hardly open your mouth around him. Samson, you’ve made so much progress. You fought for your voice. I don’t like seeing you give it up for someone who–”

“Natalia.”

She groaned, placing her head in her hands. “You don’t get it.”

“Elias gave me a voice to begin with,” he said. “It isn’t so hard to sign when I need to.” If that was all he had to sacrifice to be near Elias, so be it. Nerves getting to him was nothing new. Ever since he was a child, he had struggled to speak when he was afraid. Or stressed. Or even slightly nervous. Or… just in the wrong room with the wrong people who seemed to trigger something inside him that he didn’t understand but which left him without words. Certainly he had made progress since them– it was only ever fighting that made him fall quiet now.

Except now, there was Elias.

Even before, he had never managed a single word in front of him.

That had been fine. Elias had been taught to sign since birth, and when he stumbled upon some poor servant’s son unable to communicate except in writing, he’d dedicated much more time than Samson deserved to teaching him.

“Samson, you were getting better with it even during fights. And tonight you…” Natalia paused. “I know it’s not linear. And it may not even be related. But if you’re struggling with that, I’m worried about regression.”

Samson would be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. If he lost his ability to speak more completely, if the difficulty he was having now transferred to other things again, how difficult would it be? He’d been like that, without any speech for the first three years as captain, before Natalia had sat down and begun working through it with him, going over exactly what he was afraid of and pinpointing the moments when he could work on finding his voice. Those three years had been stressful, though Samson had some difficulty blaming his speech alone.

He had been ousted from his country and pulled away from the only people he had really cared about. If adjusting to the life of a pirate was difficult, it wasn’t solely because he couldn’t speak.

Besides, it was rare now to encounter anyone from Kremal who couldn’t read sign. There were few complications when he needed to rely upon it in day to day situations. Elias had ensured that. Teaching Samson to sign wasn’t enough to help him if no one else could read it. The programs he had implemented in the schools of commoners and the outreach programs he’d led had allowed learning opportunities for most of the kingdom.

“Would that be so bad?” he asked.

Natalia’s face softened, but the frustration was still evident in her eyes. “Mutism isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person, no. If you had never gotten to this point, I wouldn’t be concerned about it. It just… concerns me to see you so willing to set yourself back on progress you worked so hard for. And, more than that, I know you only get like this when you’re nervous. I don’t like the idea of you feeling like that all the time.”

Samson sighed. “Regardless of any other regression or progress, I will always be nervous around him.”

“And you see why that’s a bit concerning.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

“I am not afraid of His Highness,” he said. “I am afraid of saying the wrong thing and losing him again.” He looked down at his hands. That was… part of it. He had never been worthy of the attention and kindness Elias had offered him. All he was was the son of a servant. Back then, he couldn’t even offer protection. Affection was far more than he had deserved. Perhaps, at the beginning, he had been silent because that was all he had ever managed. But as the prince had given him more, he had so much more to lose if he messed up. The weight of it… he never could speak to him, even when he’d gotten to the point where he could manage around his mother, around servants, and now, around almost everyone else.

“If saying the wrong thing would make him drop someone like you, he was never worth your time to begin with,” Natalia said under her breath. And then her head whipped upward, finding Samson’s eyes. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

“It was.” With that, Samson stood, gripping his crutches tightly. He didn’t raise his voice. He understood. Staying by Elias’s side meant that he would be unable to speak much of the time. It was a hindrance to the others, and… and Natalia knew the underlying reason for all of it was anxiety. She wouldn’t like seeing him nervous. If their positions were reversed, if Samson had to watch her be so clearly nervous, he wouldn’t like it either. “I forgive you. I know what you meant. But I value His Highness’s opinion. If he finds me unworthy, then I am.”

“Samson…” Her voice was soft.

“I also would prefer if we didn’t blame His Highness for my progress or lack thereof,” he said. “He has done nothing to hurt me. If I struggle because of my own anxieties, that is not his fault.”

He left the room before she could answer. It was better to be a bit rude than to stay and become more frustrated. Samson didn’t like discussing this sort of things. Even with Natalia, talking about his progress or his regression with speech alway became irritating, whether or not Elias was involved as a factor. Everything seemed to have an opinion on what situations made sense as triggers, for where he ought to be making improvements, about what goals he should have and how he should be working toward them.

It was fine if Natalia wanted things to be easier for him. He knew that was what she meant when she encouraged improvement. That it would make things simpler, that he would struggle less if he could just get past this. Most kids outgrew it with time and practice, she had told him. Adults didn’t struggle this much, and seeing him face any sort of difficulty related to it was frustrating for her.

But wasn’t it enough that he could sign and others could understand? Did anyone else really need more of him? It was easier. It was so much easier. Even if he could stomach speaking with his crew or Karim, it was still a struggle, an uphill battle that he always seemed to be near losing. No one had ever asked him to learn to hop on one leg instead of using his prosthetic. No one ever acted like that wasn’t good enough for getting around and suggested he ought to focus his efforts on regrowing it. So why wasn’t it good enough to speak with his hands when his voice was a battlefield?

Samson did his best to keep his expression neutral as he knocked at his room. There was no need to concern Elias by looking upset. He turned the key and entered, finding the man seated in his chair, a book open and Samson’s leg lying across his lap. Samson blinked.

Elias looked up from the task at hand. “I was trying to see if I could find anything that might help temporarily, but this will need part replacements. Unless you have any on hand…” Samson shook his head. “Right. Then we’re going to Verand.”

It was almost sweet, the thought that Elias might be trying to fix the piece either to help Samson or just to learn about it the way the machinery worked, but Samson didn’t allow himself to linger in that thought for long. It was likely only to hasten his own arrival back home, and Samson could respect that. This was no place for him. Even if he seemed excited at the prospect of visiting Verand, surely it would be better under other circumstances.

Samson took a seat at his desk, taking the envelope that had been delivered earlier in hand. Seeing this, Elias rose, placing Samson’s leg carefully in the chair he left, and approached the desk. “If that letter doesn’t contain the resolution you’re hoping for, you’re still planning to return me to Kremal?”

Samson nodded. “I won’t inconvenience you more than I must.” Besides, Natalia was right about one thing. So long as Elias was on the ship, they would all be in danger. The longer he stayed, the more people would find out he was there and the more they would be a target.

“Don’t you think that's a poor strategy? If my mother sees you show any weakness, it’ll hinder every bluff you try to make in the future.”

Samson raised a brow.

“Not that you should kidnap me again. That isn’t what I’m saying, but–”

Samson surprised himself. He hadn’t meant to laugh. And yet, he found the sound falling from his lips before he could stop it.

At that Elias’s eyes widened, and then he smiled.

Elias smiled.

“It’s not funny.” But he was smiling. “I mean it. You’re… If I have an understanding of your deal with my mother, you’re an ally, and you’ve likely done more than I know of to protect Kremal. I know you don’t intend to harm me. In another life, maybe you could have been a friend.”

Samson felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Elias waved his hand. “But don’t do it again. I won’t forgive you next time.”

Samson blinked. Was he forgiven now? He didn’t dare to ask something like that. If the answer was no he wasn’t going to be able to stomach the guilt of it. For now, he would accept those words as acceptance of his apologies.

“But if you did, it wouldn’t mean anything to her that time. She’d know you’re bluffing.” Elias leaned against the desk, the smile almost fully dissolving, but not quite. “I suppose we only have one way of knowing for sure what she’ll say, though.”

Samsn nodded, pulling a letter opener from his drawer. He ran it under the wax seal carefully, making sure not to damage it. He placed the contained letter between him and Elias.

His eyes scanned over the page, and he let out a small sigh of relief. It would not be necessary to worry about his future bluffing ability. So long as Elias was returned prior to the scheduled date of his engagement announcement, Samson’s crew would be paid for a year’s service in advance.

“That’s good. There’s still a week until the announcement. That’s plenty of time to get to Verand and back,” Elias said. He glanced toward Samson, and something in his eyes was… off. If he didn’t know better, he might have thought it was sadness. But that couldn’t be right. Just because it was that same look Elias used to give him when pleading with him to stay instead of leaving to attend to his chores or when he wouldn’t sneak off with him, that didn’t mean it had the same implications now.

Back then, he had been a friend. A source of joy. Now, he was nothing more than a well of inconvenience. Whatever emotion Elias’s eyes held now, it wasn’t any want of Samson.