KIT'S EYES OPENED TO find a head of long, two-toned hair splayed across his lap like waves, impossibly perfect and temptingly soft. He didn't know when Morgana laid down on his outstretched thighs, or when either of them even fell asleep, but he could remember Morgana's stress that night and doing everything he could to calm him down.

"I don't want him to hurt you," Morgana had said.

"I won't let that happen," Kit assured.

It made his stomach flutter to think about how Morgana was so worried for him, and whenever it did, he had to scold himself. Morgana wasn't worried for Kit because he cared about him, he was worried because he was scared of Crane and scared for his people, and if Crane got in the way of their mission, heaven only knew what might happen.

Morgana was sound asleep. It was a deep enough sleep that Kit didn't know whether to be concerned or relieved, but he took advantage of his state to run his fingers through his hair, brushing it away from his ears, his forehead, his neck. He'd accepted long ago that there was something there, but it wasn't until the previous morning that anger wasn't his first reaction to the Unseelie. Just once, he'd let the gentler feelings take the reins.

"He's never let anyone else do that."

The Seelie sat against the opposite wall, redoing her braids, watching Kit's  callused hands move in tender motions. She looked tired yet serene, elegant fingers weaving her lilac curls with golden jewelry.

"'Anyone else?'" he repeated.

Her smile held a touch of nostalgia. "Astyr and I are the only ones that can touch his hair like that and keep our fingers."

Though he should've been flattered, Kit instead stilled his hands in sudden fear for them. "I guess I better stop before he wakes up, then."

"I think if he wanted you to stop, you'd know it."

Right as she said it, a soft groan pushed past Morgana's lips and he rolled to his other side so his face was inches from Kit's stomach. The faery was waking up, and anxiety settled in his chest. There was no telling what Morgana's reaction would be to waking up in Kit's lap with his fingers in his hair, all he could hope for was that it wasn't deadly.

His icy eyes opened slowly, sleepy and disoriented. Kit's heart drummed faster when Morgana realized where he was, and he looked up to the prince's face. He waited for the violence, but it never came.

"I thought we were staying awake."

A smile forced its way to his face like it was waiting to come out the whole time. "That's what I thought, too."

Morgana drifted off again, just for a moment. He looked so at peace, and Kit didn't know he'd like it so much.

"You should've kept me awake."

"I didn't know I would fall asleep," Kit said. His fingers dared to return to his neck, gently stroking the soft hair there, hoping Morgana wouldn't notice.

Unfortunately, he did. His hand flew up to grip his wrist and he paused, gulping back his fear. But that was all the Unseelie did. He didn't move his hand or glare at him or call him names. It felt more like a knee-jerk reaction than actual aggression.

"Sorry," said Kit.

"No."

To Kit's surprise, Morgana's hand uncurled, releasing his wrist. When he returned to the soft, steady motion, the faery melted into it.

Giselle caught his eye from across the room, a grin splitting across her lips, one that taunted him with 'I told you so.' He supposed he should've believed her the first time. After all, she knew Morgana better than anyone else there.

The cabin was silent again as Kit watched Morgana. He knew it wouldn't stay this way, he'd be a fool to hope for it, but he'd relish in it now.

Sadly, it only lasted a few minutes before Morgana opened his eyes once more and sat up, forcing Kit to drop his hand and leaving his legs cold as the air hit them again. He missed the moment already, but they weren't there to take a break. It was always going to end eventually.

Morgana still couldn't wake up completely. He was collapsed against the wall, sitting up now but still sleepy.

"You okay?" He almost didn't dare ask the question, but this didn't look like normal exhaustion. It looked like poorly concealed weakness.

"I'm fine." Despite his insistence, Morgana stumbled in his attempt to stand, clutching onto a nearby pillar.

Kit jumped to his feet to try to help, holding out his hands to spot him. "You don't look okay. Do you have a remedy?"

Giselle stood. "I do, let me--"

"No." Morgana's glare was sharp on Kit's face. "I don't need it. I'm just tired, it's nothing."

"Are you sure?" asked the Seelie, brows knit in concern.

"We need to save them for emergencies, like you getting sick," he told her. "I'll take it if I collapse but I don't need it right now."

That seemed to satisfy her, but not by much. "Just be careful, then."

Selene was the next to wake up, and Morgana tried harder to stand up straight as if he felt embarrassed to be seen like this.

"Morning," the Lady said, while Morgana gripped Kit's shoulder for support. He didn't appear to know he was doing it, but he was happy to help.

"Morning, darling," Giselle replied, tossing Morgana one last look before returning to her love.

Morgana threw the door open, exposing the sunlit deck and lively crew mates. He managed to climb the few steps it took to get up, but he still struggled.

"Do you need your cane?" asked Kit.

The faery seemed hesitant, but eventually decided he couldn't afford to be stubborn, so he gave Kit a nod.

It was the cane Giselle's mother promised, carefully engraved with Sídhe sigils and propped up against the wall. The wood was sturdy and embued with spells to help Morgana walk better, and the handle was decorated in hard silver.

"Thanks," Morgana murmured, like he was ashamed. He walked better with the cane, almost back to normal as he stepped out onto the deck. The sunlight hit his hair and his dark waves shone a dull green like the feathers of a raven's wing. Kit thought him more ethereal like this, scarred and limping and telling a story with everything about him that was unusual.

Crane noticed them straight away, and Morgana went as stiff as a board.

"Morning, lads!" he greeted, arms outstretched. "You consider my proposal?"

"I did, and my answer didn't change."

"Well, I did try," Crane pouted, eyes sliding to Kit. "I reckon he already told you."

Kit was just as rigid. "I did. It was awful shady, Captain."

"Aye, well, a man can try." He gave the two a charming wink, then lifted a finger. "Oi, did you boys notice that other ship last night?"

"What ship?" Kit felt a chill as he followed Crane's gesture to a vague, dark shape in the distance. It was another large ship, far away from them but close enough to make him shiver.

Morgana was already uneasy, but now he looked dangerously on edge. "Is that bad? Are we being followed?"

"Paranoid, aren't we?" Crane hummed. "It's not necessarily bad, no, but it's strange. I checked the routes several times, I was under the impression we were the only folks going this way. Just best to keep an eye out."

The creak of the door caught their attention, and they turned to see the others emerging from the cabin. Lionel was clutching Giselle's hand, and Eurion rushed to meet her friends on the forecastle deck.

"I'm starving," Selene announced, just as Amala and another burly crew mate heaved a net over the side of the ship, bringing with it a pile of foul-smelling fish. The Lady's eyes widened. "Aha."

"I don't eat animals," Morgana murmured, eyeing the scaly creatures as they flopped about the deck.

Crane laughed, and made the foolish decision to clap the faery on the back. It only took a second for Morgana to have his arm twisted behind him, forcing him down onto one knee.

"Good God, pixie."

Morgana yanked upwards, forcing a cry from Crane's lips. "Touch me again and I'll throw you overboard with the bloody sharks, you hear me?"

"Aye."

He tossed the captain to the ground and leaned back against his cane, and Kit thought his heart might thunder out of his chest. He was deathly afraid of the beautiful faery, but heavens, he loved it.

Around them, the crew was still, mouths agape as though they were appalled that the very man who threatened his way onto the ship was threatening their captain again, and winning. No one tried to stick up for Crane, likely out of fear of Morgana, and Kit figured that was probably wise.

Crane stood, brushing his hands against the front of his pants. "Right, then," he stammered, waving at his crew. "Back to work, folks, don't worry about me. We're used to moody passengers."

The glare he tossed Morgana's way filled Kit with rage, and before he knew what he was doing, he stepped in front of the faery and puffed out his chest like he wasn't the least terrifying person on the ship.

"We've got bread and jam and beer, if that helps," Quinn said softly, coming up behind the two.

A steadying hand on Kit's arm settled him, and he was startled to realize it was Morgana's. The tension on the ship was tangible, and the crawling at the back of his neck from the ship in the distance didn't help. If there was any other way they could've traveled south, Kit would've taken it, but this was their only option and it was just as risky as anything else they'd ever done.

The rest of the afternoon wasn't any better. For the most part, Kit and Morgana stuck together like two brooding peas in a bitter pod. If someone told him days ago that he'd be spending most of his time with the Unseelie at his own will, he would've spat in their face and called them a fool. But alas, Morgana's company was the most relaxing right now. Perhaps it was because somehow, he managed twice to scare Crane--who was apparently more powerful than he let on--into submission, and it made him feel safe.

There was still tension between the two, though. It wasn't the same as the tension on the rest of the ship, but it was there, prodding at the back of his head and causing an itch in his hand every time it brushed against Morgana's when they sat beside each other. When things got too stressful, his mind wandered back to the cell, and it didn't exactly calm him down, but at least it was something else riling him up instead.

As the day went on, the ship in the distance got closer and Kit got more anxious. The crew sailed as fast as they knew how to, and they were lucky enough to get heavy winds on their side, but the others were gaining up on them. By the time the sun painted the sky with bright pastels once again, Kit could see the dark wood of the ship and the faint movements of the crew.

It'd been warm so far, but the winds began to chill, turning Kit's cheeks a deep shade of red. The chill wasn't gradual, either, it was quick, sudden, intentional. There was a fear echoing in the back of his mind, one he tried to ignore in favor of optimism, but the closer they got, the less he could deny the likelihood that it was true.

On the other side, land was well in view, but not close enough to properly outrun their unwelcome companions, at least not without a fight. And a fight, they would have.

A cry was all they had in warning before a catapult launched something onto the deck, rocking the ship to one side. Morgana jolted from his sleep, clutching Kit's arm with one hand and his cane with the other.

The projectile only dented the wooden deck, but upon further inspection, Kit understood that it wasn't meant to damage. It was a severed head of dreadfully familiar brown hair, and even with its decomposition, the prince knew exactly whose it was. It sent a searing pain through his chest and guilty tears welled in his eyes.

Léona.

This wasn't meant to damage the ship, it was no weapon. This was a warning, from none other than Connor and his deadly army, who never did lose their trail.