PART II: THE STARLING

The Starling was not invisible at night, but it was still difficult for Novari to find. According to Rusher's charts, the Starling had been following the Avourienne. As she had told Bardarian, it was most likely only to hide from the Myrian creatures, but there was one Myrian thing the Avourienne couldn't protect them from.

It was the early hours of the morning when Novari spotted the ship, far on the horizon. She quickly pulled the piece of the sail she'd brought with her out. Her and Britter had been sail stitching the other day, and Novari had snagged a piece of the red fabric. Bardarian wouldn't tell her where he got the extra crimson sail, but Novari figured it was the kind of shipment that didn't have a return address.

Cloaked in the fabric, Novari approached the Starling in the darkness. The scout high up in the crow's nest didn't alert his crew. Or—when Novari looked closer—her crew.

Novari's tiny rowboat came up close to the Starling's brown hull, and she quickly dug her knife in and began to climb. Dropping the red fabric from her shoulders, she found her way up the unfamiliar ship and over the rail.

Creeping across the deck unseen, Novari slipped in through the Captain's window. He left his open, just as Bardarian had.

It's childish, Bardarian had muttered to Novari when she'd asked why he kept his window open at night.

You could use some lesser traits, Novari had told him.

He'd grinned. Legend says, he'd whispered, running his fingers down her shoulder, that leaving your window open allows the ocean to protect you.

Novari had given him a tedious smile. He'd shrugged.

What from? she'd asked.

Heartbreak. Supposedly that's the only thing that can kill a man while he lives.

Novari closed the window behind her. Legends were just legends, after all.

She landed softly on the wood beside the Captain's bed. Splayed across the bed was Jon Slint, his mouth caught open in a snore.

Novari maneuvered around him. She left his room, closing the door as she found the captain's quarters. She sat down at the desk. The Starling was far less luxurious than the Avourienne; the curtains weren't dazzling, and the room was far smaller. The desk wasn't made of that beautiful mahogany, and the room didn't have the feeling of magic.

That feeling was home to Novari. She was magic, somewhere deep inside her. She was Myrian, born of that same sparkling feeling.

She leaned back in the captain's chair. Her limbs ached and her mind was tired. She longed so desperately to crawl into Bardarian's massive bed and have something familiar. Emotions threatened their way back into her mind, and she shoved them away.

She waited.

*

When the door to the captain's room opened, the sun was already high in the sky. Novari, having fallen asleep sitting in the captain's chair, jolted awake when she heard Slint's dresser drawer slam in the room over. She quickly straightened herself.

He shut the door behind him, not noticing her at first. He ran his hand through light curls, glancing at her for the first time.

"Good morning, sir," Novari told him. She offered him an innocent smile.

He raised his eyebrows, looking away. He glanced back at her, as if he wasn't sure she was real. Then he cleared his throat.

"I need caffeine before I deal with whatever the fuck this is," he said, gesturing to her. He made his way over to the door, but Novari tapped the table loudly.

"Coffee's here," Novari told him. She held up the mug she'd snatched from the kitchen a few hours ago. "It's cold, but you like it that way."

Slint glanced back at her. His eyes were sharp and narrowed as he walked towards her. He took the mug from her. He brought it to his lips, not breaking her eye contact.

He set it down on the desk loudly. He placed both hands on the wood.

"Bardarian didn't think it was enough? To break my alliance with the Cloudfront? To publicly embarrass me in a pub?" Slint licked his lips. "He sent his pretty lapdog after me a second time?"

Novari smiled. "Thank you. I prefer stunning, though."

Slint's fingers tightened against the lip of wood. "Answer me two questions, you manipulative bitch," he snarled. "One—how the fuck did you get on this ship? We're in the middle of the ocean—"

"I'm very stealthy," Novari said.

"Two," Slint snapped, "why are you here? What game is he playing?"

"Those are two questions."

"I swear to the angels, woman—"

"Relax for a moment, Captain." Novari stood now, working around the desk. "Breathe. You haven't seen me fight, but I know you keep up on the gossip."

Standing so close, Novari found herself looking him right in the eyes. He was an average man, but she was a tall woman, putting them at the exact same height.

"In port, you offered me a position on this ship."

"If you think for a moment—"

Novari held up a finger, and Slint flinched. "Just wait, please. In port, you offered me a position on this ship. What was it?"

"If you hadn't played me, it would've been strategist."

Novari nodded. She put down her finger. "What do you really know about me, Captain?" she asked.

Slint took a step back. He worked his way around the desk and pulled out a stack of papers from the second drawer. He threw them on the desk, settling into his chair.

"Novari Avoure Silta," he drawled, leaning back to read one of the papers. "Eighteen years old, part Siren, part royalty. Born and raised on Canale, a home for banished Sirens. Came into possession of the Avourienne after capturing Bardarian and his crew. Gave the ship back to the egotistical bastard when Canale disbanded. Is widely marked over and over as Bardarian's in every way, shape and form."

Novari rolled her eyes as Slint continued, "Supposedly never beaten in combat. Highly intelligent." He threw the paper back down. "I know plenty."

Novari leaned against the desk to regard him. "Do you mind if I fill in the blanks?"

Slint motioned for her to speak.

"I joined the Avourienne to be a part of something. I was refused the very position you'd offered me. I left in the middle of the night to find you, hoping you might keep your offer."

He laughed then. He finished with a fantastic grin, leaning back to gauge her. "You left the Avourienne?"

Novari didn't answer. She watched him.

"You left the Avourienne, hoping to gain a position from me instead, the man you manipulated in port to gather information for Bardarian?"

"That's correct."

"Ballsy woman you are."

Novari shrugged.

"You want a position," he said again.

"That's correct."

"And how the hell am I supposed to know that this isn't some trick?"

Novari cleared her throat and reached over the desk to pull out the drawer next to him. He leaned back again, clearly uncomfortable. Novari ignored him, tapping the papers in the drawer.

"That's for you," she told him. "Consider it a gift."

Slint leaned forward to take out the papers. He shuffled through them.

"These are the Avourienne's sailing paths," he said slowly.

"That's correct."

"This is a sketch of the master map of Myria. A sketch of the only map in existence that charts Myria."

"Again, correct. Alexander Rusher's signature is in the corner."

They were documents Novari had stolen the night before from the navigation room. She'd asked Rusher to sketch the map for her, just a simple one without all the details. He'd shrugged and done it for her in a few minutes, no questions asked.

Slint flipped through a few more papers. "These are strategy plans. These are the Avourienne's strategy plans for the next month."

"That's correct."

"You stole these from Bardarian?"

"That's correct."

Slint looked up at her. "You really did betray them. You know the kind of havoc they'll wreak? They'll come after me if I take you aboard."

"Unfortunately, Captain, they were coming after you either way—as those strategy plans suggest. Now, however, you have not only a crew member of theirs on your side, but you have a highly skilled and intelligent woman to add to your roster."

Slint raised an eyebrow. He stood, rounding on her again. "He was all over you. I got the impression that the two of you were blissfully in love."

Novari refused to blink.

"And if he was in love with you, then why would he not give you strategist?"

"That is the question." The words came out strained and angry—full of the emotion she was trying to hide. But even though that wasn't her intention, it appeared to work in her favour.

Slint ducked his head, gauging her. "You want a position, I'll give you a position. Not strategist—not yet."

Novari pushed down the terror that rose. "I have a counteroffer," she said calmly.

He raised a light eyebrow, his eyes searching for a farce.

"I fight your crew. If I can beat every single one of them in non-weapon matches, you'll give me strategist. If I can beat them all—including you—in under eight minutes, you'll give me first mate."

He grinned. "You're quite the confident woman."

"Quite."

"First mates are positions meant to advise. They are positions that require an absurd amount of trust and experience."

"And yet, Captain, it has come to my attention that your first mate, Vorth Jeb—at a mere twenty-two—has only a few months more experience than I do. He's not known to be anything special. No reputation, no extravagant skills. You gave him that position because you had no one else to take it. You're scrambling for a first mate you can trust. And if you don't trust your current one, what's the harm in replacing him with a woman whom you may not trust as well, but at least has the skill and intelligence to further your career?"

"Why offer the combat deal then," Slint wondered, leaning against the desk, "if you had such a solid reason without fighting anyone?"

"Because a first mate requires trust of the crew as well. If I show them just how skilled I am, they won't resist you appointing me there so quickly."

He smiled at the floor. "You could be one hell of an asset, you know. But you're so dangerous in everything you do, and you look good doing it—which is a precarious thing for a man. You betrayed not only a legendary captain, but also a lover. You betrayed the crew that you pledged your life to. Who's to say you won't do those things to me?"

"I betrayed Bardarian on the conditional that he was a lover. A person so close to me should've done everything in his power to keep me at the top where I belonged. And when he tossed me to the side, it didn't feel like a captain had professionally smoothed me over. It cut deep, because he was a man I trusted not only with my career, but also with my emotions."

Slint's eyes were hard-set and narrowed. "And the solution to that not happening to me is...?"

"Either don't take me as a lover or don't give me less than I deserve."

He shrugged. "I can do that." Novari couldn't be sure which he meant.

Two raps sounded at the door. "Captain!" a voice shouted through the door.

Slint didn't looked over at the door as he yelled, "I said don't fucking knock!" He looked back at Novari. "It wastes time," he explained.

The door threw open with purpose, slamming against the wall. "Sir, I think someone's been in the kitchen—" He cut off upon seeing Novari.

"The kitchen," Slint said, "in my room, in the captain's quarters, on deck, and probably in the common room, too. You're a shitty scout, Skinner."

The young man in the doorframe—presumably Skinner—hadn't moved an inch. His blonde hair was tousled as he took in Novari from head to toe.

"I'm an excellent scout," Novari pointed out, leaning against the wall. "You know I can see in the dark?"

Slint gave her a sideways look. "Every crew member," he told her. "I can't believe your audacity. You want to start with Mr. Skinner here? He's quite good."

Novari gave the man in the doorway a dazzling smile. "With no audience?"

Slint turned to Skinner. "You heard the lady," he said. "Get her an audience."

"Yes, sir." Skinner fled immediately.

Novari glanced at Slint as he pushed off the desk. "Off we go," he said. "You need a nap or anything?"

"I'd like a nap. Maybe a cold beverage—"

"Funny girl." He seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead he ushered her out the door and down the steps; the Starling didn't have a balcony to address the crew or the wide steps that the Avourienne had. These steps were narrow and took careful attention to get to the bottom unscathed. She reached the deck with a quiet thump, listening to the sound of the crew rousing and shuffling onto the deck. She stood next to Slint, scanning her contenders. More women than she thought, dark circles under their eyes and rubbing at their tired expressions. They blinked at her.

"Darling crew," Slint announced, standing at the front of the deck. "I'm assuming we've all heard of the woman standing next to me. This morning, she managed to sneak onto our ship—past the eyes of the three scouts we had on duty—and into the captain's quarters. Those three scouts, step forward."

Novari watched carefully as Skinner and two women took a step forward.

"The three of you have no respect for your jobs, do you?" Slint asked them, his hair ruffling in the wind. "No care for the people that sneak aboard and around this ship?"

The three stayed silent. One woman looked up at Novari, searching her eyes. She was pretty, maybe, but the bottom row of her teeth were crooked.

"Or perhaps you're a fond of the cells," Slint continued. "Or the whip? Or Brussel's punishments?"

"Permission to speak, Captain," Novari interrupted. The members of the Avourienne had never asked Bardarian to speak. She hadn't noticed how many strict traditions Bardarian hadn't required.

Slint turned to Novari with a startled look. "Granted," he said.

"I'm very stealthy," Novari began, "but I had assistance in this particular matter. I was using extra sail cloth from the Avourienne. Invisible at night. Your scouts aren't at fault."

Slint raised his eyebrows, turning to look at her, startlingly close. "Fine. Be quiet."

He when on with his tirade, and Novari watched the crew's expression dip from tired to terrified to, finally, annoyed. Crooked-teeth girl was still watching Novari. Her expression was clear. It screamed I know you're lying.

Of course she was lying. She'd dropped the Avourienne sail the moment she began scaling the Starling. She hadn't needed it to sneak around the ship; she was simply stealthy. She'd lied to Slint to make crooked-teeth girl think Novari was protecting her—that she was on her side, that she was a friend, but crooked-teeth girl hadn't bought it. Fine.

Sometime between his scolding and anger, Slint moved on to Novari.

"We know Bardarian stays on top solely because of his pretty ship. We know he deserves nothing of what he has, and we know of his unbeatable prodigy joining his crew. However, it seems the king's reign may be slipping from his hands, because we now have his sailing paths, his strategy plans, his maps"—Slint paused, looking at Novari—"and his prodigy."

No one spoke. Not for a long moment. Then, crooked-teeth girl's voice rang out across the crowd—silky, like a singer.

"She's Bardarian's, Slint. You know that. He's playing a game."

"Think, Sheer. A game where he offers up his strategy, his plans and his maps to his enemy?"

"Easily. A long game. Bardarian's a long game sort of man."

"Is he?" Novari interrupted, because crooked-teeth girl had a point Novari didn't want Slint thinking too hard on. "Bardarian was winning this fight with the Starling, but just barely. Why go back into it now that he's won and it's over?"

"That's something a player from his side would say to convince us," crooked-teeth girl insisted.

Novari rolled his eyes. "I could've just killed Slint while he was sleeping. You, too, while you dozed in the crow's nest."

There were scattered noises from the crew. Had the scout been sleeping when Novari had passed? No. She'd been wide awake, just staring in all the wrong places. Still, Novari was done with crooked-teeth girl and her vendetta, so she was getting rid of her. It was simple, really, destroying the credibility of a woman with one false accusation. There was a method to why they believed Novari over their own crew member—Novari was the more beautiful, more confident person, and people listened to beauty and confidence. It was in their nature.

Slint cleared his throat. "Silta's offered us a deal. If she can beat every single one of us in hand-to-hand—"

The crew began to laugh, until Slint silenced them with a flick of his hand and continued, "In eight minutes."

The laughter puttered out, the threat moving from humorous to utterly absurd.

"Six," Novari countered.

The crooked-teeth girl was watching Novari. Slint had called her Sheer, a well-known strategist for the Starling. Adequate, but nothing more.

Novari cleared her throat. "Someone has the time?" she asked.

Slint laughed, so amused. He leaned against the rail. "One at a time. No weapons. No breaks for our egotistical Avourienne girl. Kitver? You've got the time?"

A girl off to the side nodded her head, glancing up at the sky. She made some markings on her hand.

"I pick the order," Novari said to Slint, eyes passing over the crew. She'd pick easy, then hard, in succession. The easy members would give her a break.

"Small victories," Slint said with a shrug. "Off you go. And if one of them kills you, I have no obligation to save you."

"What if I kill one of them?"

Slint's head jerked up. "I'll shoot you dead."

"You can hardly aim a pistol," Novari told him.

Slint immediately moved to his pistol at his side—for what, Novari wasn't sure. He wouldn't shoot her, but he'd probably threaten her.

He came up empty. Novari tossed the pistol she'd swiped from him earlier up in the air and caught it. "Quick fingers," she noted.

Slint made a sound in the back of his throat.

"Nobody likes looking like a fool, Captain," Novari said, tossing him the pistol. "If you'd gone on the way you run this ship now, Bardarian would've made you look that way to the entire ocean."

Novari turned around. "I can protect you from that fate," she told them. "But I need your trust. I need to show you first, that I am capable of avoiding that fate myself." Novari pointed at the girl that Slint had called Kitver, presumably the navigator. "Start the clock."