Archer's fingers were raw from searching the dirt. It was here somewhere. He knew it was, because Bardarian was no fool.

Courtley had walked Archer down to the stairs, which was a clear mistake on Silta's part; unlike his late captain, Courtley was a fool, and when casually asked which cell was the captain's cell, he'd pointed to the one Archer was in now.

It was common practice for a ship to have a captain's cell—one slightly more luxurious than the rest to be placed into in the event of capture. It was the pirate code to let a captain have his cell on his ship.

And Bardarian was no fool. Somewhere in this cell, there was an escape tool, without a doubt. He just had to find it.

Something pricked at his finger. He grinned, pulling a long, thin hair pin from the dirt. He cleaned it off as he turned it in his fingers, realizing he'd once seen a similar one in Silta's hair. Grinning, Archer wrapped his fingers around the bars and inserted the pin into the lock. It didn't quite click, so he took it out and reangled it. Again, and again.

Sighing, he maneuvered his body, fingers flexing at the odd angle. He glanced at the stairs as he worked, knowing Courtley was on cell duty tonight, and he could come down at any minute.

Of course, he wouldn't really get anything from escaping his cell—Silta would probably just throw him back in, minus the hair pin, but he just needed to make sure his crew were getting what they were promised. And he wanted to talk to Britter about Alli.

The lock clicked. Archer looked back at it, then slowly pushed the door open. The hinges groaned, which he quickly attempted to hush. With one more check of the stairwell, he got to his feet and crept down the hallway.

He was almost to the top when he ran into Courtley coming down.

The two men stared at each other for a long time. Although Archer had never actually had a proper conversation with the quartermaster, he knew a lot about him from Farley, who'd explained that Courtley was Bardarian's day-one sailor and best friend. Apparently, they'd grown distant upon Silta's arrival—Courtley wanted to live the free life, and Bardarian was sickeningly in love. Either way, Courtley was a brooding man that Archer had no intention of getting to know.

Courtley stared at Archer, and Archer stared back. He could probably knock him out, fight him to get upstairs, but there was something in the quartermaster's stiff expression that told him to wait.

Finally, Courtley pushed past him and descended the stairs with heavy thumps.

Archer blinked.

Confused, he took the steps to the deck. The air was calm and the night was dark, the Myriad nowhere to be seen.

Archer cracked open the door to the common room just a little. He scanned the space, catching Britter's gaze. He motioned.

Britter glanced out of Archer's view—presumably to Silta. Then he got up and made his way over. Archer backed up as he closed the door behind him.

"Courtley just let me out," Archer said.

"He let you out?" Liam repeated.

"Well he didn't let me out, but he let me get out."

Liam nodded a little. "He never liked Silta. Defies every order he can."

"Why would she keep him on the bridge crew, then?"

"It's politics, Kingsley. Courtley connects Silta to the older guys on crew that were close with Bardarian. Plus, she likes to keep her enemies close. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure my crew were being given what they were promised."

Liam cracked the door open behind him, revealing the common room again. Previously undetected to Archer, Pincho and Bickie were sitting on a couch adjacent to Starle. Marquis was deep in conversation with Kourvourk. Alli was sitting on a chair, engrossed in discussion with Miller. Archer had thought they would stay a lot more separate from the Avourienne.

Archer nodded to Alli. "Is she okay with you?" he asked Britter.

He shrugged in response. "She's annoying. Talks too much. But she's safe from Him, I guess."

"I was more asking if she's safe from you."

Liam looked confused, then offended. "First of all, that's insulting. And second of all, she's way too young for me."

Archer gave him a pointed look. "It's almost the same as Silta and I."

Britter scrunched up his nose. "There is no way Laurier is the same age as you."

"She is."

"She's not."

"She is."

Liam squinted back at Alli. "She acts young. Don't think I believe you."

"Just answer the question."

Liam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Archer. I have never needed to force a woman. They'll come just fine on their own."

Archer glanced back into the room. He'd always assumed as much, but Lyra's former confession still threw him off from time to time.

He nodded into the room. "What happens if I go in there?" Archer asked.

Liam shrugged. "Probably nothing. You took the Captain's cell, no?"

Archer had thought he was smart for that one, but he realized it was sort of an obvious trick. He nodded. "She's not going to be mad I got out?"

Liam shrugged again, his face tight. "I don't know, Kingsley. I have no clue how she's going to act. But if you escape a cell, that's fair and square in piracy."

Archer glanced at Silta. She was up on Bardarian's couch, her eyes focused and stark. Harvi was beside her, laughing about something that probably wasn't funny. He occupied the same spot Silta had next to Bardarian.

"I should kill him for what he did," Archer muttered. "I have every right to."

"For sleeping with Silta?" Liam asked.

"For being a traitor. I don't care about what else he did."

Liam grinned. "Good news for me."

Archer glanced at him. "What?"

Liam waved his hand like he hadn't said anything important. "You want to come in?" He gestured to the room.

"What did that mean? With the good news—"

"Didn't mean anything. Come on in, Kingsley."

Archer eyed him as he pushed open the door and ushered Archer inside. He followed Britter back into the room, smelling the familiar scent of alcohol. The smoke that had always clouded this room was gone, though. Silta had always hated that haze.

They came up to the step at the back of the room. Archer had never been over here before—this place had been for Bardarian and his little circle of confidants. Britter had sometimes been over here, but more often it had been Jackson and Kourvourk. It was odd to see the dynamic radically different; Jackson and Kourvourk were over by the rum barrels now, and Rusher and Harvi took their places.

As they approached, Archer tossed the pin he'd used to get out of the cell to Silta. "Is this yours?" he asked.

She caught it, glanced down at it, then spun it a few times. "Yes, thank you."

He tried not to act bewildered as he stepped around the back of the couch, avoiding Rusher's sharp gaze for fear it might draw blood. Britter had resumed his spot on the other side of Silta, and he now gave Archer a tilted look. He glanced at Silta.

She was looking down at the pin, thinking. She ran her tongue over her teeth, then abruptly got up, not acknowledging her movement to anyone else. She made her way to the far door just as Courtley re-entered the common room.

Archer thought she was leaving, but she stopped at the door, lacing her fingers around Courtley's arm and shoving her elbow into his throat. Choking, the quartermaster stumbled back, but she wasn't done. Using her leg to trap him, she slammed his head against the doorframe with all her might. The crack following was resounding, and the entire room dipped into silence.

Blood began to pour from Courtley's stubby nose. He made a move to push her away, but she deflected his fist into the wall. She gave him one last hit to his jawline where a bruise was sure to form, and he slid down the wall a little. She didn't move as he fell to the ground.

Silta looked down at him. She didn't say anything. She turned back around to the silent room. "As you were," she said.

One by one, the pirates resumed their conversations, ignoring the event.

Archer leaned over Britter and said, "All that because he let me get out?"

Britter looked confused, too. He shook his head.

Harvi tossed up and caught the hairpin Silta had handed to him before she got up. "She never told Courtley to lock you in, Kingsley," he said. "He defied orders, so he gets punished."

Archer remembered how Silta had claimed she wouldn't lock him in the cells if he were good. He glanced at Harvi. He wondered if he were smart enough to have figured that out on his own, or if he'd been given more information earlier. Either way, Archer didn't like it.

Silta came back over, taking her seat again. Britter handed her a cloth, and she wiped the blood from her knuckles. "Captain's cell?" she asked.

Archer leaned back and watched her. "Yes."

"Smart," she told him. She glanced at her knuckles.

The conversation lulled, but Archer wasn't sure if it were because of him or Courtley. He cleared his throat and asked, "Do any of you have any clue why we're going to the chest?"

Silta smiled. "They have as much of a clue as you do."

Archer gestured to Rusher and Harvi. "And they're too terrified to speak up? Tight ship you run."

"Loose ship you run, love," she replied.

"I do prefer to stay away from tyranny," he said.

"Easy way to find mutiny."

"History argues I usually do that myself."

Britter cleared his throat. "Forgot how fast you two go at each other," he said. "Do we have a map heading?" He nodded to Rusher.

Rusher was eyeing Archer. "Yeah," he said. "Got the heading from Laurier a few hours ago."

Archer leaned forward. "What do your strategists think you're up to?" he asked Silta. Then he tilted his head and said, "Do you have any strategists left? They all seem to have been promoted or left."

"Her strategist is doing just fine," Harvi interrupted.

Archer pointed at him, then looked at Silta. "There is no way you made him a strategist."

"Myrians tend to be clever," Rusher pointed out.

"I don't need to have the Myrian brilliance to know that Harvi doesn't have the Myrian brilliance," Archer replied.

"The hell do you know?" Harvi retorted. "You saw what I wanted you to see."

"I saw a lot more than you wanted me to see. You're dumb as hell. You slept your way up."

Harvi leaned forward, matching Archer. He snapped, "As I recall, so did you."

"I never slept with Bardarian."

Britter let out a laugh, but Harvi didn't seem amused. He leaned forward further, gritting his teeth. "You want to have a go, Kingsley?"

Archer looked at Silta. "Antagonist basis," he declared. To Harvi, "Absolutely."

Silta let out a sigh and pushed Harvi back with her elbow, so he turned to her with shock. "You can't be serious. You don't want him to get hurt?" he asked.

"Other way around," Britter said, amused. When Harvi gave him a glare, he shrugged. "What? She's keeping you safe. Be thankful."

Somebody tapped Archer on the shoulder, and he turned around.

"Captain Kingsley!" The boy was short and young, with orange-red hair and a freckled face.

"Watch how you throw around that title, Eiler," Silta said. "Kingsley's a kid."

The boy glanced at Silta. "He owns a ship, does he not?" He held out his hand to Archer. "I'm Sam Eiler. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Archer glanced at Silta, then back at Eiler. He shook the boy's hand.

"I've heard a lot about you," Eiler began, taking a spot next to Archer and speaking only to him. "You fascinate me. I mean, you're incredible."

Archer looked from Eiler back to Silta, confused. Silta stayed deadly calm—a little too calm.

Sam laughed at her expression. "Silta likes to keep me happy, since I'm invaluable to her. So I get to say what I want." He turned to look at Silta with a grin.

She didn't return it. Instead, she stared him down with a golden gaze. "Invaluable," she repeated.

Archer turned back to the new boy. "Invaluable?"

"I was born in Myria, like you and Silta. A lot of people who are born there have talents. I can tell a truth from a lie. Without fail."

Archer frowned. "Really?"

Eiler nodded. "Yup. It's useful to Silta for a number of reasons."

"You'll call him by his title but not me?"

Archer glanced at Silta. "You can tell a lie from a truth just fine," he said to her.

"Maybe she used to," Eiler answered for her, "but not really anymore. She's going a little loopy these days."

Archer laughed. Perhaps Eiler was just that insightful. "Have you tried it on Alexander?" he asked. "He's a pathological liar."

Alexander's head snapped up. "I am not."

"See, that's a lie," Eiler said quickly.

Liam snorted, and Archer felt familiarity in the conversation.

"Anyway," Eiler continued, "I thought I'd introduce myself. Like I said, I find you rather fascinating. Most of the crew does, they're just terrified to admit it. Take Harvi here for example. I'm pretty sure you intimidate him. Does Captain Kingsley intimidate you, Harvi?"

Harvi stayed quiet and pursed his lips.

"See?" Eiler asked.

"Enough," Silta said sharply.

Eiler turned to look at her. "Fine. I'm taking Kingsley with me, though."

"Please do," Harvi snapped.

Eiler pulled Archer up, away from them. He smiled with two rows of crooked teeth as he led them away. They approached a few new faces.

"These are the new people—at least to you," Eiler said, introducing Archer. He gestured to a big man to his left. "This is Don Diver. He's awesome."

Archer was surprised when the man reached out to shake his hand. "Quite the famous young man you are," Diver said. He was older than Archer by perhaps a decade, cropped hair sweeping over his ears.

"I'm assuming you don't know Vikki, do you?" Eiler asked. "Or was she on the ship when you were?" He gestured to the girl next to him, who looked from Eiler to Archer.

"She wasn't," Archer told him, shaking her hand as well. She was quietly pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes. Her skin was borderline Myrian, but she lacked the striking looks the ethnicity usually held, which confused Archer; she was small and unassuming—someone Silta wouldn't have a use for.

"Vikki Valour," she introduced herself. Her hands were soft and uncalloused. She wasn't somebody who had been put to work in her life.

"Archer Kingsley," he replied. "You're Myrian?"

"Not quite. I'm from Chorro." She held onto his hand for a moment too long. "But obviously you're stunning." She laughed, then shook her head. "I mean obviously you're Myrian, because you're stunning."

Archer let go of her hand. "Thank you," he said.

"Vikki's a bit obsessed with you," Eiler whispered. Then louder, "She's a scientist, actually."

"That's true," Vikki offered. "Well, not the obsessive bit, of course."

"Liar," Eiler muttered.

Vikki shrugged, pink tinting her cheeks. "I study astrology. I learned from my father, but he always told me to hide it so men didn't call me a witch. You don't think I'm a witch, do you?"

Archer raised his eyebrows. "I don't, no."

"That's good," she answered, her eyes darting. "Lots do."

Eiler nudged her sadly. "Vikki and her brother bumped into the Avourienne a few months ago," he explained. "Silta was going to take her brother, which meant death for Vikki, you know the drill."

"But then I told the Captain I studied the stars and she flipped it! I shot my brother, and now I'm here," Vikki finished.

Archer lifted his chin carefully. Funny, how all that time ago, Silta knew she'd need someone with good knowledge of the stars.

Vikki caught his disdain. "I promise I didn't enjoy it. Tears, grief, the whole lot. I swear," she insisted.

Archer pursed his lips. He had his doubts.

"Who'd you kill?" she asked. If Silta had replied that way, it would've been a calculated response to remind everyone that Archer's judgement was hypocritical. But Vikki seemed to just be blurting the first thing that came to her mind.

"A lover," Archer replied. Jeanne's death was a long time ago, and the scars of her had long faded. Perhaps it was because she was dying anyway, or perhaps it was because the simplicity and easiness of their relationship had become overshadowed by the complexity of his next one.

"Silta?" Vikki asked. Then she shook her head. "Hold on, sorry. Didn't think that one through. I just figured for a second, since you're with her now."

Archer wanted out of this conversation. "I'm not," he said.

Eiler glanced at him. "You're not?"

"I'm not," Archer repeated.

"That's not what she said," Eiler mumbled.

"It's not?" Archer asked.

"Hold on," Vikki was saying. "You're fair game, then?"

Archer looked at Vikki for a second. He gave her a polite smile and said, "No." Then, to Eiler, "What did Silta say?"

"Some lie. I guess I might've extrapolated a bit too far."

"Just tell me the quote."

Eiler pursed his lips. "Silta told me she'd cut out my tongue if I keep spouting things like that."

Archer sighed. Silta must've told him they'd never been together, and Eiler had caught the dishonesty.

Vikki cleared her throat. "Just, to clarify. You're not with the Captain, but you're also not fair game?"

Archer looked at her, slightly amused. "You really don't want me to be."

"Oh, I think I really do," she said.

Archer laughed. "Talk to Tailsley. She'll talk you out of it."

"Who?"

"His first mate," Eiler answered. "I believe she's one of the only women in his life he hasn't attempted to kill."

"Oh, I don't mind," Vikki said.

Eiler tugged on Archer's sleeve like a child that was growing bored. "Anyway, that's Vikki," he said. "She might seem shy, but boy does she get bold." He led them away.

"Thank you for the introductions," Archer told him.

"I'd love to get into your head one day, Captain," Eiler replied. "I think there's something unique about your mind."

"Thank you," Archer said slowly.

"It's a compliment," he reassured. "I just wanted you to know, not everyone hates you. Silta's just painted you in a bad light."

Archer glanced at him. "From her perspective, she has a right to."

Eiler looked up. "Well, truth be told, I don't know the whole story. She doesn't tell it."

"I'd figure."

The conversation came to a natural lull, so Archer excused himself to speak with Marquis. His scout was still conversing with the Avourienne's cook. Kourvourk gave Archer a simple look as he approached.

"Kingsley," he acknowledged, his voice deep and cloudy. Archer gave him a polite nod as Kourvourk left. He turned to his scout.

"They're not all that bad, Captain," Marquis said quickly, as if he had to defend himself for talking to the cook.

"I know, Marquis. I was one of them."

The scout looked relieved. "I can't picture them hurting people, really. Do you know what I mean, sir? They don't seem vicious."

Archer nodded. "I thought the same thing. They're plenty vicious when it comes down to it."

Marquis leaned in and lowered his voice. "I talked to the Captain earlier," he began. "She was hard to keep up with."

Archer looked at him. "You talked to her?"

He nodded. "I wanted to try and get us some information. But she's tough to crack. She answers like she knows what you're going to say."

Archer wondered what they'd talked about. "I warned you away from that," he sais.

"I know you did. You were right to. Four minutes into the conversation she had me thinking you were the shittiest Captain to sail the seas. Had me thinking I would leave my wife for her for a good ten minutes."

Archer gave him a simple smile. "She has a way with things like that," he said.

"Anyway," the scout continued, "I think I'll stick to making friends with the less manipulative of the bunch. If you'd take that popular group, I'll take the assistant navigator, the cook and the scout. By the way, do they only have one scout?"

Archer glanced around the room, finding Jackson with Starle.

"No, they have two, usually," Archer told him. "We took the other."

Marquis' eyes snapped back. "We did what?"

Archer waved his hand. "She doesn't seem to have noticed—"

She hadn't noticed.

This was Archer's third night on the Avourienne. Why the hell hadn't Silta noticed yet?

"A little odd that she hasn't, isn't it?" Marquis wondered.

"Yeah," he said. It bothered him. She was usually extremely observant, but perhaps she'd missed the detail. "Anyway, I like your idea. The only problem is it won't work because as it turns out, no one has any clue what this ship is heading for other than Silta."

Marquis searched his expression. "I guess it's on you, then, Captain."