Live to Venture (#0)

32 | The Confessions of Adventure

These days were unfamiliar to Vallin. Most of his time was spent idly reading, drawing or arguing with Rusher in navigation. When he wasn't doing any of that, he was eating or lounging in the common room, watching Britter beg Silta to fight him. On the tenth day of his consistent nagging, she finally agreed.

It took her four minutes to beat him, but Britter hadn't been upset. He wanted to go again after his break, so Silta let the others fight her in the meantime. Rusher took two minutes, Starle took a record-breaking twenty seconds.

When she was done with all of them, she pointed to Vallin, leaning against the mast. It was getting dark out, the evening sun disappearing beyond the horizon.

Vallin shook his head. "I'd rather not."

The crew laughed, amused. Everyone was enjoying themselves, it seemed, with the exception of Everson, who watched the whole thing with a permanent frown etched into his face. Vallin guessed the only reason he was there was to pick apart Silta's performance and see if he could catch holes in her play.

"I'll go easy on you," Silta said.

"Maybe another time," Vallin replied.

She grinned, teeth sharp in the dimming light. She spread her arms, tilted down her chin, looking up at him to make him feel taller. "Come on, love," she said.

Vallin gave her a look. "I don't think I could ruin that face," he said honestly.

The grin never left, but her expression turned mysterious. "Come now, you can't play prose and not fight, Captain."

The crew seemed to agree. The begged him to do it and truth be told, he did want to try. He knew her body and her tendencies, was well acquainted with the way she moved. Maybe he'd hold his own. He glanced at Britter, writing notes, then gave in.

Silta whirled around, the smile vanishing. She was concentrating, reverting. She rolled her shoulders. So she wasn't so sure she'd win, then. Vallin had never been as good as Everson, but he was good.

At times, he questioned what they were doing. She didn't talk much, really, but she was always at his side once it got dark. Sometimes, he'd have the pressing feeling that he was being used again, but then she'd run her fingers over some part of him and ask him something personal.

What's the most terrified you've been? That had been her question last night. Vallin had answered, and she'd listened, like she always did. But when he'd ask her something, she would find a way to distract him from realizing she never spoke about herself. She truly seemed enthralled with Vallin's stories, but it also seemed she was determined to know them all without giving a piece of herself away.

If Vallin was up late, he'd find her curled up in his bed when he went to his room. She wouldn't admit it, but she was terrified of Everson.

The crew knew she'd dropped the former first mate, and they suspected something messy happened ever since Bates was reinstated. Still, it was heavily implied that he wasn't supposed to touch her in front of the crew, wasn't supposed to make it obvious. It should've frustrated him, but instead it made him feel like some coveted, beautiful secret. Maybe that's why he agreed to do this fight—at least then he'd get one more moment near her today.

She attacked first, as always. She hooked her leg around Vallin's neck and launched herself to the ground behind him, taking him with her. He fell backwards, his elbows sprinting with pain as he landed on them. Her leg was hooked around his throat, choking him. Vallin took both hands and peeled her leg off, rolling to the side.

She laughed, amused at his strength. She flipped towards him and wrapped her legs around his waist, tugging him in and pulling him close, his head tucked above her shoulder. She nudged his head down with the back of her elbow and sent his nose into the wooden deck.