Live to Venture (#0)

10 | The Captivation of Adventure

Vallin had been brought food yesterday, so for the first time since he'd been tossed in this room, he felt himself again. The only problem? The boredom.

He had a few favourite activities to keep busy. For one, he started braiding little bits of his hair, the ones he'd usually have trimmed by now. He'd learned to braid from his mother, and now was the only time it had ever had any value.

He also stole the fork from his food tray, using it to sketch some drawings in the dirt of the ground. He started with one of her, but she was impossible to draw properly, so he moved on to the Avourienne.

"Evening, love. I like your hair. You do that yourself?"

He cracked the back of his head into the stone wall with surprise, scrambling up to a sitting position. It was completely dark, and the light spilling from the hallway the only one that allowed him to see her at the door.

"It's night," was all he could think to say.

"On an island full of Sirens, it's always evening," she replied. She closed the door behind her, then lit a candle. Vallin had to squint to see her in his adjusting vision, but she looked different. Her hair was down, and she was wearing something more comfortable than she usually was—as though she'd been in for the night.

She tossed something, and he caught it quickly. A bottle. Of rum. He glanced up at her as she sat down across from him and placed the candle between them.

She looked over and placed a second, identical bottle on the ground beside her.

"We're drinking, are we?" he asked. "I thought we were fighting."

She popped her cork. "I may have overacted. Now we're not fighting, and we can drink."

Vallin leaned back against the wall carefully. "Playing mind games, are we?"

"That's what I do best," she replied.

He drew his brows, picking at the label. What a dangerous, dangerous game to play.

"Here's how it works, love," she said, leaning forward. "You ask me a question, I answer. I ask you a question, you answer. I won't ask you the location of the map. You can ask me anything you think will help you get out of here."

Vallin frowned. "How do I know you won't lie?" He spun the bottle in his hand.

"That's what the rum is for," she declared. "You're twice my weight and most likely a borderline alcoholic already, so you drink the whole bottle. I'll have half."

"Half isn't much," he said.

"It's not regular rum."

"So you can't walk in a straight line. You can still lie."

She shrugged. "Sure, but it'll be easier to read me, and I'm not a big liar in general."

She met his gaze, so he tried to read her expression. She didn't seem to be the kind of person to lie their way out of things; it would insult her ego.

"You think quicker," he pointed out. "I propose a change in the rules. I get two questions for every one you get."

She grinned, canines gleaming. She liked that, so she'd take it. "Deal."

He gestured to her bottle, so she handed it to him. He tried it, making sure it was real rum. She'd been right; it was stronger than normal. He handed it back and gave her his to try.

She didn't take it for a moment, so he continued to hold it out. He wasn't going to drink anything until she confirmed it was safe. She took it, had her sip, then handed it back.