Live to Venture (#0)

20 | The Night of Adventure

Novari hadn't fallen asleep. How could she? Everson had pulled her into something resembling a bear-hug, and the covers were nearly suffocating her. He smelled like some sort of spice that made her sneeze, and his breath was so warm it was making her whole body sweat.

She gently pushed against his arms as he slept, but he'd locked her in a death grip. She brought her knee up and pushed back against his chest, but then she overestimated how much pressure she needed and ended up falling over the side of the bed.

She rolled over and sat up, glancing at him, still sleeping. She rolled her neck and reached over to pull on something comfortable. The night was deep and dark, and she needed air.

She looked at him again as she left him there alone in her room. He slept peacefully. He looked simple, but he wasn't. She'd suspected it before, and now she was sure of it.

Novari reached for the door. Outside, there was a cat on the ground.

She blinked. She looked behind her. She looked back. The cat was still there. It was a matted black, with white paws and luminous yellow eyes.

Novari glanced down the hallway. She stepped around the cat. Weird.

The wind blew softly over the deck. She looked back at the cat. It had followed her to the topdeck. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable.

The air was cold and bitter. She leaned against the rail and glanced up at the window in the captain's quarters. The red curtains were pulled aside, and soft candlelight glinted outwards.

She wondered if he was up. If he were sitting up at his desk, slaving over deeds or deals, or if he were sleeping in his room, alone. She wondered if she could go up there, what he'd do if she did. Novari knew men, and she knew she'd like his style better than Everson's.

The rail bit into her back. She kept her eyes on the window. The captain's quarters were probably empty as he slept; he just forgot to put out the candles.

She sighed deeply. Beside her, the sound of feet dropped to the ground, causing her to startle.

A girl came down from the crow's nest. Novari squinted at her, realizing this was Lyra Tailsley, the quiet, young girl who'd avoided her gaze most of the time.

"It's late to be out," the girl said, her voice a whisper. She took up the spot next to Novari on the rail.

Novari glanced at her. "Needed some air," she said.

Tailsley nodded. "Lyra Tailsley," she introduced herself. "We haven't officially met."

"Novari Silta."

"I know. Everybody does."

Novari watched her carefully, waiting for what she suspected would come.

"I need you," Tailsley said quietly. She didn't look at Novari as she continued, "He's going to cut me. I know it."

"Why's that?"

"He only needed me for one thing," she whispered. "Something that you're much better at."

Novari blinked a few times. Seduction, she guessed. But that wasn't the only reason Bardarian hadn't already cut Tailsley.

"He's going to drop me," she said again.

"You want me to make you better," Novari concluded.

Tailsley pursed her lips. There were a million thoughts inside her young head, spiralling around. "If you can," she said.

Novari watched the waves crash into the hull. "You're wrong. You're useful, small, the underdog of the game. Not enough to bring you aboard, perhaps, but if you're already here? You're not bad enough for him to consider killing you and upsetting the crew."