Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

37 | The Loyalty of Uncertainty (Pt. 3)

The room was silent. On the ground lay a man so powerful and charismatic he'd been able to bend the ocean to his will. Now he was just a body, lying on the floor of an expansive ballroom, his neck bent and his eyes staring out at the wall, expressionless.

He was the kind of charismatic so man men would want to be, had the kind of presence any man would long for. He was a million things Archer didn't agree with, but he was admirable all the same.

Archer didn't dwell, didn't stick around. He had to move on and find Kerian. Silta could still kill him, especially since she didn't know Bardarian was dead yet. He hurried out of the ballroom, touching the sore spots on his neck.

He could feel the throne room calling to him like a moth to a flame. He had no clue how he knew where it was, but he did. Something about the Avourienne was magic. There was something about Silta's touch that was magic, and there was something about this night that was magic, by someone good or by the Devil himself.

Archer followed the winding hallways until he rounded the corner, bumping his forehead right into a pistol. Silta's face swam into view, golden eyes narrowed in surprise. Even so, some corner of her expression had seen it coming.

"Kingsley?" She looked down at his clothes, his hands, his face covered in fresh and drying blood. "You look like you've been through it, love."

Archer swatted away the pistol, which she was already lowering. "I didn't leave," he said. He searched her face, but she made no indications of knowing what had happened to Bardarian.

"I see that," she hissed, tugging him into her hiding spot. The Prince was sitting on the ground next to her, his hands still tied and mouth still gagged. He looked exhausted.

"What are you doing with him?" Archer asked quickly, hoping to devise his own way to get the Prince out.

"We're going to the throne room. Why are you here?"

Archer peeked his head around the corner. There was the door to the throne room, almost as tall as the ceiling. Nearly ten crisps stood in front of it.

"I couldn't leave," he said.

She ran her tongue over her teeth. "I said I would take care of the King," she said, misinterpreting the reason he'd stayed.

"I needed to make sure," he told her, playing along with the assumption.

She searched his eyes, trying her best to see if he was telling the truth. Archer was so broken, he no longer had the energy to act. He just hoped she would believe him.

"Did Darian find you?" she asked carefully. She was eyeing the reddening skin on his neck, but considering the sheer amount of blood on him, it didn't look out of place. "He went to find you."

Archer shook his head, resisting the urge to tug up his neckline. The pushes to his eyes could've been anyone. "No," he said. "Saw him disappear around a corner, and I went the other way. Thank you so very much for stopping him."

"You were supposed to be gone, Kingsley. I couldn't tell him that, so I let him go. When he doesn't find you, he'll come back, and you'll be here."

Archer shook his head and began to speak, but she cut him off, "If it comes down to it, Kingsley, I'm with him. I gave you an out."

Archer waved his hand. "We have to move. The clock is ticking, here, Novari." He was careful not to insinuate that he knew the truth about the dynamite; that would mean he'd talked to Lyra.

Silta pursed her lips. "I said I'd wait for him to go in," she said, looking both ways down the hallway.

"There's no time," Archer pointed out. The dark was still in full force, but he knew that dawn was coming and with it, the detonation of this entire island.