Live to Venture (#0)

36 | The Conviction of Adventure

PART II: THE STARLING

The Starling was not invisible at night, but it was still difficult for Novari to find. According to Rusher's charts, the Starling had been following the Avourienne. As she had told Bardarian, it was most likely only to hide from the Myrian creatures, but there was one Myrian thing the Avourienne couldn't protect them from.

It was the early hours of the morning when Novari spotted the ship, far on the horizon. She quickly pulled the piece of the sail she'd brought with her out. Her and Britter had been sail stitching the other day, and Novari had snagged a piece of the red fabric. Bardarian wouldn't tell her where he got the extra crimson sail, but Novari figured it was the kind of shipment that didn't have a return address.

Cloaked in the fabric, Novari approached the Starling in the darkness. The scout high up in the crow's nest didn't alert his crew. Or—when Novari looked closer—her crew.

Novari's tiny rowboat came up close to the Starling's brown hull, and she quickly dug her knife in and began to climb. Dropping the red fabric from her shoulders, she found her way up the unfamiliar ship and over the rail.

Creeping across the deck unseen, Novari slipped in through the Captain's window. He left his open, just as Bardarian had.

It's childish, Bardarian had muttered to Novari when she'd asked why he kept his window open at night.

You could use some lesser traits, Novari had told him.

He'd grinned. Legend says, he'd whispered, running his fingers down her shoulder, that leaving your window open allows the ocean to protect you.

Novari had given him a tedious smile. He'd shrugged.

What from? she'd asked.

Heartbreak. Supposedly that's the only thing that can kill a man while he lives.

Novari closed the window behind her. Legends were just legends, after all.

She landed softly on the wood beside the Captain's bed. Splayed across the bed was Jon Slint, his mouth caught open in a snore.

Novari maneuvered around him. She left his room, closing the door as she found the captain's quarters. She sat down at the desk. The Starling was far less luxurious than the Avourienne; the curtains weren't dazzling, and the room was far smaller. The desk wasn't made of that beautiful mahogany, and the room didn't have the feeling of magic.

That feeling was home to Novari. She was magic, somewhere deep inside her. She was Myrian, born of that same sparkling feeling.

She leaned back in the captain's chair. Her limbs ached and her mind was tired. She longed so desperately to crawl into Bardarian's massive bed and have something familiar. Emotions threatened their way back into her mind, and she shoved them away.

She waited.

*

When the door to the captain's room opened, the sun was already high in the sky. Novari, having fallen asleep sitting in the captain's chair, jolted awake when she heard Slint's dresser drawer slam in the room over. She quickly straightened herself.

He shut the door behind him, not noticing her at first. He ran his hand through light curls, glancing at her for the first time.

"Good morning, sir," Novari told him. She offered him an innocent smile.

He raised his eyebrows, looking away. He glanced back at her, as if he wasn't sure she was real. Then he cleared his throat.

"I need caffeine before I deal with whatever the fuck this is," he said, gesturing to her. He made his way over to the door, but Novari tapped the table loudly.