Live to Venture (#0)

22 | The Validation of Adventure

Vallin started a very dangerous game.

Pitting Silta and Everson against each other had been a good idea, but only if it turned out the way he thought it would. He'd told himself he wasn't doing it to drive them apart, but maybe that had something to do with it. Either way, it needed to happen.

He sighed and leaned against the rail. The day was warm, but Silta had opted for the long sleeve crew's uniform, all parts of her covered. She'd be harder to cut that way, and her skin wouldn't stick with sweat. Ever so methodical.

Everson had to be dragged from the common room onto the deck, and he'd complained the whole way. He was still complaining now, his black eyes furrowed.

"Can't we do this later?" he was asking Vallin. "It's hot out today."

"Terrified of a teenager, are we?" Vallin asked him calmly.

"I am not," he snapped. It was far too easy to read him. Silta, with her fiery eyes and poker face, was nearly impossible to read.

She bounced on her feet a few paces away, rolling her shoulders. Her muscles were relaxed and her face was still, but the cords in her neck were flexed. She was terrified of doing this. Terrified to lose. Vallin turned back to Everson.

"It seems like you are," he said.

"I have better uses of my time with her," Everson said, rubbing that in Vallin's face as much as he could.

Across the deck, Silta's brows drew, which made it clear to Vallin that she didn't quite agree.

He gestured to the deck. "Get moving. Miller! On standby, please."

Skye appeared next to him, and he glanced over at her.

"Am I supposed to stop the fight if it gets out of hand?" she asked.

"I'll do that," Vallin said, turning his attention back to the deck.

Everson groaned out loud and moved over to the mast. The crew had gathered to watch, perching on the rails or the mast ladder to get a better view. Everson hadn't ever lost a hand-to-hand match, and it was clear they had already placed bets on a winner.

Vallin watched her eyes scan Everson. His weaknesses and his strengths, surely, planning out every possibility in her mind.

She glanced up to look at him. Her face was clear, but Vallin had every reason to believe she was furious. She hated the way he had talked to her, the criticisms he'd given. She'd begun to stand on the balls of her feet near him just to look him in the eye. Vallin found it amusing at the same time as he found it annoying, considering he already felt small in her vicinity.

Britter walked into the middle deck, spinning in a slow circle to address the crew. "Match rules!" he shouted. "No biting. No pulling hair. No purposely snapping any extremities—"

"I say we play dirty," Silta said, cutting Britter off. She looked only at Everson. "Break what you want, pull what you want."

Everson grinned, but he didn't like that, Vallin knew. Silta may have had the hair disadvantage, but she had a Siren body—better suited to handle injury all-round. Still, he had no choice but to agree; he couldn't back down from a challenge.

"Fine," Britter said. "Nothing is off limits, except weapons. However, you cannot leave the matchspace. You can only stay in the drawn-out lines. Understood?"

Everson waved him away, and Silta nodded swiftly. Britter smiled. "Match started."

Everson didn't waste time. He moved forward, straight for her face with his arm.