Live to Venture (#0)

34 | The Crash & Burn of Adventure

Life went on for her.

She didn't crash and burn like her mother had insinuated she might. She'd broken two rules in the worst ways possible, but life went on.

People began to recognize her in port, either because she was with Bardarian or because they'd heard what she could do. Sometimes, a woman would come up to her, tell her she was their idol. Other times, a man would smile at her, pass by her. Even if Bardarian wasn't in the room, every man she met treated her as an unattainable fantasy. Novari thought she'd mind; she thought it would bother her that she was marked as someone else's territory. But in the end, she didn't really end up caring.

She spent her days training the crew to be better fighters, picking out their weaknesses and strengthening them. When her body was slicked with sweat and blood, she'd scrub herself and wash her hair, braiding the sections that fell into her face in a way that became her staple. She'd go to great lengths to make her skin clear, ensure she smelled and looked nice before she'd go up to the captain's quarters. Bardarian could probably care less about the little changes she made for him, but it mattered to her.

As for the undead Everson, she knew she'd have to deal with him again in her life. But for now, she simply checked behind her at ports and pushed him partly from her mind. Bardarian was always with her in dangerous places, and she knew he'd figured out Everson, too. The next time he came around, at least they'd deal with him together.

She organized the captain's quarters, folding clothes when she was bored and didn't have any things to do on the ship. If Bardarian was out doing things she wasn't allowed to do, she'd flip through his drawings to look at the ones of her. She knew she wasn't supposed to, but it kept her calm every time he disappeared into the strategy room or the navigation room. She tried so desperately to forget how she'd momentarily had access to first mate. She closed her mouth and tried to be simple, like her lover was.

But Bardarian didn't understand what it was like to feel like Novari did—the powerless kid walking in the path of someone better. She tried to be reasonable, but with every decision that was made, with every time Bardarian pushed her out of something important, she got a little closer to losing her calm. She'd flip through the drawings, watch the diamonds he bought her sparkle. But she knew that one day, those things wouldn't be enough.

Novari stayed still, stretching out her feet and reading one of Bardarian's books. The windows of the room were open, and the afternoon air wafted in from the sea. She found her mind drifting to what the men in the strategy room were talking about, and how quickly she could move along their planning.

The door opened, and Bardarian came through, seemingly in a rush. He moved to the nightstand quickly, grabbing the sketchbook there.

"There's an animal I've never seen off the starboard side," he said, his voice hurried. "Never seen it before. You want to come look? Long, thin and blue, with these pale eyes."

"A Tipler?" Novari asked, looking up from her book. "I've seen it before."

He glanced at her, then rolled onto his back next to her, holding up the sketchbook. "Of course you have."

Novari watched him flip to the end of the book and sketch the outline of the animal, his hands as deft and intricate as when they touched her.

"The Starling is following us," he told her as he worked. "Is that odd?"

Novari glanced down at him. "A little." She wondered why he was asking her.

"You think they have some other plan?" he asked. "Or they just want to avoid the creatures?"

"Probably the latter," she answered. "Why are you asking?"

He switched out one of his pencils and placed it in his mouth as he erased a mistake. "Britter and I couldn't figure it out," he said. "Thought you could help."