To keep Bardarian distant, Novari had to keep herself away from him. She knew that, but she always pushed it back, telling herself she'd sleep on her own tomorrow, that she'd ignore him the next day. Her rules had left her head with all her common sense.

She watched him carefully as he dressed, fixing his hair and donning his lovely coat. He'd talk to her while he did, but she wouldn't listen. She'd just hear his voice, low and smooth.

I was six, she'd told him.

She'd never found someone to tell that before, how her mother had held her down and strangled her until she passed out. When she woke, Seira had pasted on a wide grin and told her it was done. That she could have her fun with men and avoid ever coming across something as inconvenient as a child.

She watched him search around for his hat, pausing what he was saying. His eyes darted. Novari pointed to the end of the bed, where he'd thrown it only moments before.

He glanced up at her and snatched it off the bed. He looked at her like he expected her to say something.

"You weren't listening?" he asked.

Novari shook her head.

He sighed and ran through his hair one more time before putting on his hat. "I'm talking to the Cloudfront today," he said. "Do you mind training some of the crew while I'm gone?"

Novari sat up more. "I need a promotion to do that."

He shook his head. "Please don't do this."

"I want to come with you. To the Cloudfront."

"No."

Novari rolled off the bed, following him out of the captain's quarters. "Let me come with. Please."

He turned around to face her. "Train the crew. Pay extra attention to Starle. He's useless."

Novari searched his eyes and reached for him, but he ducked away from her. "I'll be back before the sun sets." He walked backwards to the door, spreading his arms with a grin. "And if you're good, I'll let you wear my coat."

Novari narrowed her eyes and leaned against the doorframe as he left the captain's quarters. Sighing, she brushed back her hair. She wandered around for a moment, realizing how much her enjoyment on this ship relied on him being there. How little she had to do without him.

So she'd have to train the crew for a few hours. But he'd be back before the sky darkened, and things would be less boring for a moment.

*

Vallin felt accomplished. The Cloudfront was dealt with, Slint had been dealt with, and Silta was waiting for him.

He knew she was waiting, because when he pushed open the door to the common room late that night, after the ship was headed off again, she was looking off to the side, her eyes dazed and bored. When her gaze found his, there was the slight prick of amusement back in them.

Vallin made his way over. Everson was slouched on the chair to his left, watching Silta, and Rusher and Britter were in deep argument as he approached. Britter broke off when he spotted Vallin.

"Captain! You look successful. Was the Cloudfront on board?"

Vallin dared to sit next to Silta, his shoulder brushing hers. "They were," he replied. When he sat, Everson stood and left the group.

Britter grinned, his teeth brilliantly white. He didn't seem to notice Everson leaving. "We own this ocean, don't we?"

Silta shifted her legs underneath her, placing a hand on Vallin's thigh as she did. She pressed against his side and left her hand where it was when she was comfortable again. Vallin glanced down at her.

Rusher laughed, pointing at Silta. "Oh you think you're subtle, do you?" he asked with a grin.

"I actually did think it was subtle," Britter said with a shrug. "You're breathing, Captain? I wouldn't be."

Vallin gave him a look. "I've had a woman put her hand on me before."

"He's so tense," Rusher said to Britter. "I don't blame you, Captain. I'd lose my shit if she did that on me."

Vallin lifted his arm to the back of the couch, ignoring the navigator, but Silta grinned at Rusher. "So you can tell the truth."

Vallin's gaze wandered back to Everson as the rest of them went back to their argument. It was one thing to take Everson's girl; it was another to flaunt it. Everson seemed to have retreated out of the common room, though, so he drew Silta closer and said, "Let's leave."

She glanced up at him and got to her feet.

"Oh, come on," Britter complained. "You're leaving?"

Silta shrugged, hand on Vallin's shoulder as he got up. "The two of you don't let me talk anyway."

"That's because you never lose the argument. It's boring."

"Then you'll be glad I'm gone. Evening, boys."

Rusher nodded his head up to Vallin. "You have a good night, Captain," he said with a snicker, Britter joining in.

Vallin pulled her away, desperate to get out of the open. He felt his nerves twitch, felt something twist inside of him. He had a nasty, dark feeling in his bones, and he just wanted to get into his quarters and lock the door.

Silta glanced back at him as she took the balcony steps. As she opened the door, she caught his look, stilling. "What's going on?" she asked, hand still on the door.

He didn't answer, still trying to put his feelings into words.

"Love?" she asked, but as the word left her mouth, her head threw back into the balcony rail, blood running down her forehead. When Vallin reached for her, she slumped through his arms, unconscious. He quickly backed up, mind catching up.

He felt the cold bite of mental against the side of his neck. He stilled, his eyes unadjusted to the darkness of the space beyond the door. He lifted his hands, refusing to look down at his most reliable form of protection, unconscious on the ground.

Everson stepped out of the door, pulling Vallin's shoulders up, keeping the gun steady.

Vallin didn't speak, because he knew what this was. He'd never had it happen before, but it was most assuredly happening now.

This was mutiny.

Vallin pulled his shoulder up—his signature trick to getting a pistol to flip aim. He reached up and spun the weapon, but Everson kicked it out of his hands and knocked into him, causing the two of them to fall over the balcony rail.

Vallin crashed into the deck below, adrenaline quickly masking the pain. He wrestled with Everson, struggling to maintain his offensive. He looked up at the rail, where Silta was still unconscious. She had to wake up soon if they had a chance here.

The sound of them falling over the rail was loud enough to draw Bates from the common room, and now he shouted for help.

A knife glinted at Vallin's throat, and Everson pulled him up, pressing his back to the rail as the crew flooded from the common room. With Vallin covering Everson's body, nobody would be able to shoot him.

"Nobody takes a step!" Everson shouted.

The crew stilled. Britter was the most forward, his hands out in some weak attempt to control the situation. He found Vallin's gaze.

Vallin darted his eyes up to the balcony, where Silta had begun to roll over. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth and her forehead as she pushed herself up.

Britter caught his train of thought and shifted his weight to Silta. He reached for a knife in his pocket.

"I said don't move," Everson snapped at him. Britter dropped his hand.

"We won't follow you," Rusher said, blonde hair glinting in the moonlight. "Nobody will."

Vallin felt Everson's head tilt against him.

Silta came down the steps, her feet quiet against the stairs, and Everson turned to watch her. She'd picked up the pistol they'd dropped, not aiming it. Her eyes found Everson behind Vallin.

"Guess what, doll?" Everson said, shifting his knife against Vallin's throat. "You've just gone up in the world. First mate of the Avourienne, if you help me with this."

Vallin closed his eyes. So that was his angle. Take Silta up with him, keep her, and therefore maintain control of the crew with sheer force. She wanted it, of course. She wanted to have more power—the things Vallin hadn't given her.

Her eyes were still for a long time, deciding.

Everson turned to the rest of the crew. "Bardarian's gone soft," he snarled. "He's in love." He nodded over to Silta.

Vallin wanted to argue, to tell the crew how little that had affected his decisions—how he'd withheld the position of strategist from Silta even though he desperately wanted to satisfy her. He didn't let her come to meetings even when she begged. He'd been the man he'd always been, but they knew that.

"I'll lead you with his lost ambition," Everson said. "With skills that he doesn't have. I'll lead this ship to a legacy far bigger than what we have. You all know he's holding us back."

Britter was rapidly looking at Silta, stepping forward, finger on the trigger. None of his crew would rally with Everson's words. That much, he knew. But by making Silta first mate, the two of them could force the crew into anything, and loveable Silta could turn their loyalty over time.

"What do you say, doll?" Everson asked. His arm shook, clear anxiety pounding in his heart. His whole plan depended on Silta and what she did next.

Conflict sparkled in her expression. For a moment, it seemed she couldn't decide. She glanced at Vallin, those harsh features soft in moonlight. She took another step forward.

"I'm sorry, love," she whispered, her eyes on Vallin.

Britter was shouting to her, so was Rusher. Don't do it, don't you dare. Vallin could hear them, could hear them trying to convince her, trying to fight back, but Silta was Silta.

Vallin lived through this ship, and he always thought that he'd die with it. That his ship wouldn't live on long after him, or at least someone he trusted would take care of it and his crew. He never thought it'd happen like this; he wasn't scared of death, but he always thought he'd get to go down fighting. That his opponent would be an enemy, not a lover or a friend. That they'd kill him fairly, kill him properly. In the end, though, Silta and Everson together outweighed his abilities, and they'd win.

But he would not go easy.

He drove his elbow into Everson's gut, the knife wavering from his throat. Ducking, he rolled out of Everson's grip. He took the knife by the blade, cutting his hand all the way through. The tendons and joints severed, and he had to drop the knife. Everson reached out again, and Vallin tucked his chin down as Everson pulled him into a chokehold.

They were stalemated. Everson couldn't choke him with his chin down; Vallin was stronger, but he couldn't get out of his grasp.

"Let go, love." Silta's voice. "I've got it." She finally raised the pistol to their heads.

Rusher was screaming, trying to get Silta to back up. She glanced at Britter, who restrained the navigator, telling him there was nothing he could do without killing himself. Vallin couldn't believe it—since when did Britter stand idly by; since when did his strategist put anyone over his leader?

Since never. Look closer.

Alexander was fighting, Britter was restraining. Vallin's head was foggy with deception and betrayal, so much so that he hadn't even properly read Silta. He glanced at her, hands tight so he could breathe.

"Let go, love," she repeated.

Everson's grip loosened slightly as he tried to find any indication that she wasn't telling the truth. But Silta had her rules. Ambition Above All. In his mind, she was nothing more than a killer and a predator.

Everson let go, stepping away. Within the second, Silta shot him in the head, and he fell to the deck with a thump, dead instantly.

Britter released Rusher, who fell to the ground from his momentum. He looked around for a confused moment, meeting Vallin's eyes.

Vallin was breathing deeply, head whirling, thoughts messy. The deck was chaotically silent.

Britter cleared his throat and stepped forward, hefting the dead man onto his shoulders and dragging him to the rail. He dumped Everson over the side of the rail, the body hitting the water with a deep splash.

"There," Britter said, voice cracking. "My drink is getting warm." He spun around and wiped the blood on his legs, disappearing into the common room.

Miller moved forward, gently taking Vallin's mangled hand. "I need to get a bandage for this," she said quietly.

"I can do it," Silta said. She wiped the blood from the side of her face with her sleeve. She raised her hand to Vallin's arm, and he took a step back, shaking his head. He just needed a second to understand.

"Love," Silta said, stepping after him. "You're fine. It's fine."

Vallin was still shaking his head, still backing up. She had to have missed, and now she was playing it off like she meant to do it. But then Britter wouldn't have restrained everyone.

"I didn't miss, love," Silta said cautiously. "I just had to bluff."

Vallin looked over the rail, to Everson's long-gone body, taken by the waves. The crew began to wander back to the common room, but Vallin's thoughts were still slow. First mate had been hers. She'd thrown it into the water.

Silta's hands were on his arm again, guiding him to the captain's quarters. He glanced back at the crew, still confused. They muttered things, but they didn't even seem bothered—apparently, Everson and Vallin were the only ones who'd believed her.

In his quarters, she leaned him against the desk. Miller gave her a box of things, then left them alone. Vallin watched her wipe through the cut, then ready the stitches.

"Ambition Above All," he said.

"I think it's the only rule I waited this long to break," she muttered.

"But first mate—"

She took his face in her hands, her skin soft. Her eyes were so entrancing, her words so lyrical, "Nobody realizes just how much they love something until it's gone," She kept her hands steady. "I'm not ready for that to happen to me. I'm not your hero; I didn't even risk my life. I just kept a promise."

Vallin closed his eyes, feeling the pain of his cut fade away. He felt only her hands, steady and simple. Her, so complex and brilliant. Her, in love with him.

It was so clear to him in that moment how his life would go. That he would sail his ship and lead his adventures with the crew of his dreams and a woman he loved. Everson was gone for now, Bates was his first mate again, and things were back to normal.

Life was that simple, for a moment.