The cells. She'd put them in the cells.

Archer couldn't believe he hadn't thought of this. Of course she wasn't going to set his crew up in a room with a bed; it was naive of him to think anything different.

Silta's eyes shone in the low lighting. He remembered these cells, so musty and grey when he'd come down here to question Kerian about his motives aboard the Avourienne.

"Bullshit," Archer said, his eyes scanning the belowdecks.

Bickie sighed. "Honestly," he said, "for someone that pretty, I thought you'd be nicer."

Silta gave him a smile. "You must be new."

Archer turned to her. "Where's Laurier?"

"Which one?"

He was surprised she already knew of the sisters, but she always did her research. "The one on your ship," he replied.

Silta arched a brow. "My map? She's fine. She's with Britter."

"I want to be there when you talk to her."

"You think she'll bargain for you, lover? You must be treating her very well."

"I'm her captain. You're not talking to her without me."

Silta pursed her lips, tilting her head. "I mean, I always planned to have you there..." She made a face. "But you told me I have to, and now I can't."

Archer rolled his eyes, careful to remain nonchalant next to his crew. "I'd like to be there when you talk to her." He was about to add a 'please' at the end, but his pride just wouldn't let him.

Silta scrunched up her nose.

Archer closed his eyes for a moment. All he had to do was beg, and she'd let him. It was purposeful, to make him look weak to his crew. He could roll over like he used to, but there was another option. Bardarian had always managed to find a way to play along with her games, why couldn't Archer?

"That's fine, then," he said. "Talk to her on your own. Win a game with someone that doesn't even know they're playing." Archer ushered his crew into the cell, turning away from her.

He could practically see the twitch of her mouth, even with his back turned. She could not talk to Alli while Archer was locked in a cell. It would make everyone—his crew and hers—believe she had her doubts she could win a negotiation with him.

Archer went to close the cell door behind them. He glanced at Silta. "Lock it, would you?"

Her face was expressionless, but her knuckles turned white over the key. She lifted her chin.

Archer gestured to the door. "You're not going to lock it?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, almost unnoticeable. She ran her tongue over her teeth and said, "Cute. Get out of the cell."

Archer cocked his head to the side. "I thought you wanted to talk to Alli alone."

"Get out of the cell before I drag you out of the cell, Kingsley."

"That'd be tough for you," he said. "You're good, but dragging a man who's significantly bigger than you? I have doubts."

She took the bait. "You have no more than an inch on me." Her voice was calm, but she was losing this, and they both knew it.

"I think it's more like two or three," he replied. "And I weigh more."

"Get out of the cell, Kingsley."

"Say it nicer. Try it with a please."

Maybe he'd gone too far, but she had tried to make him beg first, and he just couldn't pass up the opportunity to flip that on her. He was not a rag doll anymore, and it felt freeing to prove it.

Her mouth twitched again. "Kingsley, out of the cell."

Archer looked at her. "Well, but you told me to."

She gritted her teeth and cocked his pistol—the single shot she'd stolen. She took a step forward and knocked it against Pincho's head, who backed away quickly but was still in aim.

Archer put up his hands. "Fine, fine, I'm coming out of the cell." He pushed open the door, causing her aim on Pincho to lower. "You're so trigger-happy these days," he noted.

She pointed at him with the pistol. "No more speaking." She locked the cell door.

"No? You used to love running circles around me. You can't run anywhere if I can't speak."

She hit the back of his head with the butt of the pistol as they walked down the hallway. "Say one more word, Kingsley," she said. "Just one more."

He could tell from her voice that she would start throwing punches if he spoke again, and he couldn't afford that. Still, he was satisfied and admittedly surprised with the interaction. He'd just won a game, and for some reason, that unnerved him. Was he smarter than he'd been before, or what she just trying to get him overconfident?

Archer crested the stairs, Silta's breath on his neck. At the top, he came face-to-face with Rusher.

"Kingsley, it's not a pleasure to see you again," the navigator said, his inviting tone impossibly familiar. Rusher offered him a deadly smile.

Archer wasn't sure what to say past the performative back-and-forth. He'd single-handedly torn this ship apart from the inside, stolen one of their crew, murdered their Captain and almost murdered their champion. He turned his back on the friendship he'd once shared with Rusher, Britter and the other members of the Avourienne.

"Laurier is ready, Captain," Rusher said, his voice dropping to a painfully professional tone. Archer had seen Alexander laugh with Silta—seen him shamelessly flirt with her and argue with her.

"Thank you, love," she said.

Archer understood how far Silta's manipulation could go, but he never imagined she'd be able to turn all these crew members—the people she'd once been lower than or on parr with—into loyal lapdogs. Bardarian had always been a step higher than the rest of the crew; he'd drawn a firm line between his position and all others. How could she have done the same?

"You're still navigating?" Archer asked Rusher. "Thought you might've worked your way up by now. Left the job to Starle."

Silta cracked at Archer's head with the pistol again.

"It was just a question," he said, ducking out of the way.

It wasn't just a question, obviously. Rusher and Silta were close, and questioning why Alexander hadn't received a rise in power with her leadership as Britter had was a way of starting a rift.

The navigator didn't seem to notice what he had tried to do nor Silta's catch of it. He reached out to Archer's wrists with rope.

"Absolutely not," Archer told him, anger bubbling up for no reason. Perhaps it was because he used to like Alexander. Used to think he was charismatic and funny and lively—an artist on a ship of killers.

Silta had seemingly re-collected her position of calm control. She placed a gentle finger on Rusher's wrist as she passed. "Don't worry about it. I can deal with the Minnow just fine."

Alexander kept his gaze on Archer, not bothering to hide the betrayal in his eyes. Silta may be able to 'deal with the minnow', but Alexander couldn't.

"You'd think," the navigator whispered to him, "that you'd be less confrontational. I didn't put a knife through you. I did nothing to you except trust your lying ass. We're not friends, Kingsley."

Archer met his gaze. "I never said we were," he replied, keeping his voice steady.

The navigator snorted, expecting more of a reaction. He brought up the rear as the three of them crested the deck.

He felt familiar darkness settle on the ocean. The Avourienne was moving fast now, the Myriad dissolving into a speck. Archer found his way to the navigation room, allowing himself to revel in the memories as he moved through the doorway.

The maps were familiar; the room was familiar. He'd always liked this room. The only thing that had changed was the modern touch on the style. The furniture still held that deep black, but now the shelves were cleaner and more organized. The maps had been pinned at all the edges to smooth them out. There was a glass covering over the main table, revealing a perfectly crafted map of Myria underneath for all to see. Alexander spent years making it, and now it was the only full one to exist in the ocean. Archer had only charted sections.

Alli was in the room, too, seated stiffly next to Britter, who lounged in his chair.

Cap," Britter said as Silta entered the room, not bothering to fix his posture.

Alli's face turned white when she saw Silta; only a hint of relief passed when she saw Archer. The blue of her eyes was the only spark of colour on her drained face.

Silta turned leaned back against one of the bookshelves and nodded to Alli. "Conditions," she said.

Alli glanced at Archer. "What do you mean...conditions?"

Silta squinted at her. "What do you want from me, love?" she clarified.

Alli looked again at Archer. "I don't...get it."

Silta gave him a look. "A whole new meaning to dumb blonde," she said.

He ignored her and turned to Alli. "Laurier. You have something she wants. She can't simply take it from you; you have to give it. Therefore, you have some power here. You get to make demands."

Alli looked from Archer to Silta, then to Britter, tapping his knife against the table. "Oh." She found Archer again, lowering her voice to a whisper, "Um...What do we want?"

He kept his frustration to himself and turned to Silta. "I'll do it for her." He took a step closer. "Beds for my crew," he began. "They each get their own. They get meals with the rest of your crew. They get shore time with the rest of your crew. You're to tell your crew not to hurt them."

Silta held up a finger to stop him. "No," she said. "I don't like that last one."

Archer tilted his head. "If one of your crew members touches one of mine, I'll kill them. Angels know I don't have a problem killing members of this crew."

"Just problems making sure they're dead," she said.

Archer gave a shrug. "Bardarian seems quite dead to me."

The tension in the room rocketed sky-high. He kept his eyes on Silta, knowing he might've gone too far. If there was one thing that would make her lose her calm, it was the mention of her dead Captain-turned-fiancé.

Britter stiffened immediately and behind Archer, Alexander muttered under his breath, "You've got nerve, Kingsley."

Silta didn't flinch, unaffected. He may have won belowdecks, but she wouldn't let it happen again. "You kill a member of my crew, I'll kill you, your crew aboard this ship, the crew remaining on the Myriad, and then I'll sink it to the bottom of the ocean. Angels know I don't have a problem killing...really anybody."

He raised an eyebrow. "If you wanted me dead, I'd be dead." He sat down in one of the chairs. "You can't kill me, for whatever reason. You can't kill Laurier, for she's your map. And you can't kill Pincho and Bickie, because I'll kill Harvi, and then you'll have no toy."

Britter barked out a laugh, real and genuine. He grinned and pointed the hilt of his knife at Archer. "I missed you," he said.

Silta ignored him and spoke to Archer, "Your crew can have immunity from mine—only on an antagonist basis. If yours hit first, mine hits back."

"Fair," Archer replied.

Britter also spoke up, "Captain, we could—"

Silta silenced him with a quick expression. Archer couldn't place it. "Hush, love," she said to Britter, "let him think he's winning." She turned back to him again. "Anything else?"

He couldn't figure out what that interaction had been no matter how much he deciphered it. He focused on his requests instead. "In addition to my crew privileges, I want to come ashore with you. I stay by your side every time you take a step off this ship."

She searched his expression. She knew Archer was intent on figuring out what she was up to, and going ashore with her was the way to do it.

Silta sighed, looking at Laurier. "I don't like the demands, Minnow. I could just slice Laurier open."

"Torture doesn't work on strong-minded people. Alli isn't going to fold."

For her part, Alli kept a straight face. Archer wasn't sure if what he said was the truth, but he was forced to bluff.

Silta made a face like she was considering this. She glanced at Britter, who shrugged.

"It'd be smart to keep it friendly," Archer told her, keeping his voice steady as he leaned back in his chair. "You could bring out whatever other thing you have back there that you keep having a silent conversation with Britter about, but it wouldn't be smart to start a war here. Alli could give you a fake location if you pull something, and I could kill probably three or four of your crew members before you get to me. Is it worth it?"

She wouldn't take her eyes off Britter. Archer hoped she'd agree.

"I think you're right, Kingsley. I'll save the war for a later date. But I cannot—simply for egotistical purposes—give you the full extent of your request. I'll allow your crew beds, but they won't be getting their own rooms. Your scouts can share a room. The third shares with Rusher. The map rooms with Britter."

Britter didn't flinch, but Alli's eyes widened. "First of all, Captain," she said to Silta, "my name is Laurier. Please stop calling me a map. Second, I don't agree to that."

Silta didn't break her gaze. "I'm not letting my map out of my sight or the sight of my first mate."

"I'm not—I don't agree to stay with him," Alli insisted.

Silta looked exasperated, but it was feigned. "Honestly, love, you're being picky. Britter's the best-looking man I have. I mean, there's Kingsley, but you really try something new."

Alli sputtered. "Excuse me?"

Silta glanced at Archer. "No?"

"No!" Alli insisted.

Silta squinted at Archer. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Not big on blondes."

Silta pointed to him. "Jeanne was blonde."

"Why can't Laurier stay with Miller?" Archer asked.

"She's a very valuable map. I want her with my best fighter," Silta replied.

"Then keep her with you," he suggested.

She glanced at Alli. "I find her annoying."

Britter waved his hands to get Silta's attention. "So do I. Why do you get to pass her off?"

Silta made a show of pointing to her hat.

Archer cleared his throat. "So Laurier stays with Britter. Can we move on?"

"No, we cannot move on," Alli interrupted, looking to Archer. "Aren't I the one making demands?"

Silta glanced at Archer, too. "I'm dying on this hill, Kingsley. The map stays either with Britter, or she stays locked in the cells."

Archer waved his hand at Alli. Lyra had already confirmed that Britter's ego was too big to cause a problem, anyway. "She stays with Britter," he agreed.

"Captain!"

They ignored Alli's protests. Silta continued, "As for you, Kingsley, you stay in the cells."

He slumped a little further in his seat.

"But I'll unlock them if you're good. You can come into port with me; I chose not to specify whether or not you'll be conscious the entire time. Anything else?"

Archer glanced at Alli. She glared at him. "Nothing else."

"Excellent. Dismissed." Silta nodded to Rusher. "Get those first coordinates," she told him.

Archer stood. "You owe me answers," he reminded her.

"Later," she replied, brushing past her crew and ascending the stairs.

"What do you mean, later?" Archer pressed forward. She turned around as he met her on the stairs, unblinking. He made no move to touch her.

"I'll tell you the answers I promised. I'm just not giving them to you tonight." Her eyes flickered between his.

Archer shook his head. "There's no point in that."

She leaned down the stairs a little and lowered her voice, "You played with me in the cells."

Archer resisted the urge to start up another fight. It was better to take the wins he'd already achieved and run.

She turned and headed back up the stairs with a flick of her fingers. "Off you go, Kingsley."