Archer kept his expression neutral. He composed himself, insisted to his own emotions that they would stay hidden.

"Captain, I—"

He held up a hand. "It's not your fault. I don't blame you. Let's move on."

Lyra fiddled with her fingers, glancing out the window where the Myriad was tethered to the Avourienne. She wasn't the type to fidget.

"It's important that I get to tell you why I said it," she said slowly, eyes rimmed with tears.

Archer hoped that she wouldn't cry. He was an expert at bottling things up; he wasn't great with emotions out in the open. He wasn't great with comforting, and as of now, he needed to sort out his crew and sort out his own head. Still, he supposed Lyra deserved the chance to talk.

She took a deep breath, continuing to fiddle. "I don't know how she did it, but in that moment, I felt every inch of guilt she wanted me to feel. She's just..." She tucked a lock of escaping braid behind her ear. "She's so convincing."

Archer rolled his gaze to her with performance. "I, of course, wouldn't know such a thing," he replied.

It was an attempt at humour, at lightening the discussion, but all Lyra did was offer a slight cough of unease before saying, "Right. I just...I wanted you to know. I respect you. I respect this crew and this ship. I don't want to leave."

He refused to be angry. He had learned long ago not to blame Silta's meddling on those she meddled with. If that was the way the world worked, then Archer was at fault for far more than anyone believed.

Still, despite not being angry, curiosity was biting at him. "She said something to you that threw me," he began. "That she expected loyalty from you for something. And you'd mentioned something happening to you before."

Lyra chewed on her bottom lip. "Yeah. Back on the Avourienne."

He held her gaze. "You could tell me," he said. "If you want."

"I don't think it's the kind of thing that you'd want to hear."

He found himself wondering what could possibly be so bad. "If you choose not to tell me for your own reasons, that's fine," he reasoned. "But don't keep it to yourself because you think I can't handle it."

She took a deep breath, glancing out at the window. "I was really shy back then—before Silta came along. I didn't really stick up for myself. If something happened, I didn't really fight back."

Archer watched her carefully. Her eyes gave nothing away, but he knew long before she said it.

"I was a complaisant girl rooming with some of the most forceful and immoral men you can find, Archer. You take a wild guess as to what happened."

He blinked as if he were confused, but he knew exactly what she'd said. For some reason, it didn't add up for him. That couldn't have happened. It could not have. Not with the men that Archer knew of the Avourienne. Immoral, sure, but...not to that extent.

"Lyra, you can't mean—"

"I don't need sympathy for it, Kingsley," she interrupted. "But that's what happened. Silta shut it down when it happened to her—"

"It happened to her?"

"No," Lyra said quickly. "Well...sort of, I suppose. I mean, just because you have the ability to fight back doesn't mean you always can—especially with the politics of the Avourienne. But that's not the point. The point is that Silta was a saviour to me. So when she throws it back at me, it's hard not to feel the guilt, and that's why I said what I did."

"Who was it?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter—"

He sat forward. "Britter? Rusher?"

"Angels, no." Lyra waved her hand. "That would be a hit to their massive egos."

"Bardarian?"

"I tell you Rusher was too arrogant to force a woman, and that's your next guess?" She snorted. "He didn't ever want me, anyway. Trust me, I tried, to keep myself safe. It's whatever."

"Just tell me who it was, and I'll stop guessing."

Lyra smiled. She didn't look weak or damaged. She didn't look pained or broken. "He was an old crew member," she said. "Long gone."

"And Bardarian just—"

"He didn't know it was happening."

"You think he would've done something if he knew?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. But it's over. I told you. Let's move on."

"Where is he now?"

"He's dead, Kingsley. Let's move on. It doesn't exactly make me feel like a badass."

"Lyra—"

"I asked to move on."

He cleared his throat, still uncomfortable and out of place. He wondered if things like that happened on his crew, and he was just as oblivious as Bardarian.

"Kingsley?" Lyra prodded. "You're still thinking about it."

Archer sighed, forcing his mind away from what she'd said and onto the problem at hand. "I'm not taking you aboard the Avourienne," he said, running his index finger down the wood of his desk.

Lyra's face fell. "I understand. Why would you trust me—"

"Not because I don't trust you." He hated cutting people off, but he felt it had been necessary here. He continued, "For a few reasons. One"—he ticked them off on his fingers—"the crew of the Avourienne hates you. Maybe even more than they hate me. After all, you were with them longer before you ditched. They'll kill you first."

She nervously bit her lip.

"Two," Archer continued, "I need to bring people Silta will like—that's not you. I need to bring people that she doesn't find threatening and therefore will leave alone. That's the only way they won't get killed."

Archer glanced out the window. "And three, I need someone to run this ship while I'm gone."

She let out a deep sigh of relief. "I'm still second-in-command, then?"

"Captain, actually, until I'm back."

There was a slow smile across her face. She let out a snort and placed her hands on the desk, leaning forward. "Did you see Starle's beard?"

Archer let out a laugh, glad Lyra had—more or less—accepted the position to be captain while he was gone.

Lyra leaned back, a wider smile on her face now. "What's your plan with her?"

Her was always the same person. Her was almost the same problem.

Archer glanced at Lyra. He met her eyes. "I want to find out what she's doing with the chest. I don't like not being knowledgeable of whatever plans she has for something so powerful. And I can't let her take Laurier alone."

"And you trust yourself to stay focused?"

His first reaction was to snap at her—to make some sort of comment to prove that the insinuation was absurd. And he would've, if the same thought hadn't been swirling around in his head since the decision had been made.

He cleared his throat. "I think so."

Lyra searched his gaze for a moment before glancing away. "I don't mean to be rude or overstep, Kingsley; you're a good man with very few weaknesses, but you're walking into a situation that puts you dangerously close to your biggest one."

He watched the dust fly around the beam of sunlight from the window. "If I don't get on the Avourienne, wouldn't I be undoing all that I tried to do in the Kingsland?"

Lyra let out a long breath. "A hero would get on the Avourienne. A man interested in saving his sanity and quite possibly his life would not."

"I don't want to be called anything. I just want to do the right thing." He looked up at her from his slouched position. "Is this the right thing?"

She made a face. "You're asking me?"

"I want to make sure I'm not getting on the Avourienne for the wrong reasons. What if I'm only telling myself it's the right thing because some part of me is desperate to get pulled back into her aura?"

"I think you gravitate to her, yes, but everyone does, and I believe you're getting on the Avourienne for Alli and for the chest. Still, I can't decipher that for you." She pushed her chair back, getting to her feet. "Just use your mind, Kingsley," she advised. "Look through every word and every action. Don't fall for her games. She's always got a bigger picture."

He nodded but didn't look at her. "Bring in Shuri, please," he told her as she left.

Although she didn't answer, Shuri entered minutes later. Her skin was furrowed around her eyebrows.

"This is not my fault," he said quickly.

Shuri crossed her arms.

"If Alli hadn't spoken up like she did, we wouldn't be in this situation. Silta would've had no reason to come after us." Archer had tried to take care of Alli, but she'd offered up the map herself.

Shuri lifted her chin. "You told the world Silta was dead. If I'd known you were still involved with her, I never would've set foot on this ship."

He stood quickly, causing his chair to push back loudly. Silta would not turn his crew members against him. He would not let her.

Shuri's confrontational gaze dissolved the moment he was on his feet. She took a step back, but Archer didn't feel guilty for her fear anymore. This was enough.

"I didn't tell the world what happened," Archer said. "I told Tailsley and the King, and I told them only what I saw with my own eyes. To the best of my knowledge, she was dead. I am not accountable for flukes nor miracles."

Shuri's lip curled. "Then how did the world know? Where did all the fantastic stories come from? You were bragging about killing her, and now she has her claws in my sister! She's in danger because of your ego!"

Archer leaned over the desk and set his hands on the surface just loud enough to cause her to flinch. "You'd admit to me that you believe the stories some drunken pirate told you in port over my word?" He lifted a hand from the desk, his words sharp. "Is that it, Laurier? If so, you can get off my ship."

Shuri took a few steps back, bumping into the chair behind her.

Archer moved out from behind the desk. "I tired to be the opposite of him, but Bardarian had a point: It's naïve to think you can run a ship on kindness. All that gets me is disrespect and pushback. From you, from your sister, from my entire crew, apparently."

Shuri took another step back, glancing at the door.

Archer shook his head at her reaction. He didn't understand how she could be so terrified one moment, then so confrontational the next. "Here's the truth: I didn't tell a soul some story to paint myself a hero; Silta did. It was a trick she pulled on people like you to stir up distrust. You just fell for it."

Shuri's bottom lip trembled. Any sense of confrontation had blown away from her expression.

He took a slow breath. "I brought you here to offer you a position on the Avourienne team. If you'd like to keep Alli safe, you can come with us."

Shuri shook her head. "Come along...to the Avourienne." She spoke the word like it was death and barely formed in her mouth.

"You'd be a liability over there," he told her. "But I promised you'd have the option."

"I can't...I..." Shuri's eyes darted. "I can't go on that ship."

In a way, he was more shocked than he'd care to admit. He thought that Shuri would come despite the danger, but he appeared to have overestimated her desperation to protect her little sister.

"Then you're dismissed. Find Pincho, Marquis and Bickie, and send them in here."

Shuri stumbled to the door and left, nodding.

Archer sat back down and ran his fingers through his hair. He wanted to dissect everything he'd said, determine if it had been too harsh, but he just didn't have the energy.

As he waited, he glanced out the window. The Avourienne was in full view, breathtaking as ever. He remembered the way Silta would touch the railings as she passed, as though the ship was something emotional and real to her. If Bardarian wasn't already an inspiration in her mind, he'd given her one hell of a parting gift.

"Captain! Please tell me this is your way of telling us we're on the team that'll go to the Avourienne. Please." Pincho burst into the captain's quarters, followed by Bickie and Marquis.

"Something like that," he replied. He originally planned for Shuri, but he switched her out with Bickie in the last few moments.

"I've been waiting my life for this!" Pincho exclaimed.

Archer gave him a pointed look, leaning back in his chair. "Look, this isn't a normal excursion—this is the Avourienne. You have to keep your heads low and be as unconfrontational as possible. I'm talking to you, Pincho. I don't care how skilled you think you are; they're better. You're not to start fights. They'll kill you. I mean it."

Pincho's expression dropped just a little, but the excitement didn't quite disappear.

"Here's the deal," he continued. "None of you are required to come. Silta's already made threats on your lives. She'll kill you if she doesn't like the way you breathe. Is that understood?"

Marquis nodded solemnly. Even his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"The crew of the Avourienne is tight, and they're not going to like you, especially if you talk me up. Don't do that. Stay away from Courtley. And most importantly: Stay the hell away from Silta. Don't talk to her. She gets in your head. Don't talk to her."

Bickie was still grinning. They were too damn excited to even listen to the warnings.

"Angels." Archer sighed. "Let's go, then."

Bickie and Pincho shouldered each other. Marquis glanced at Archer. "Do we have a plan here, Captain? Something to accomplish?"

"Find out why the hell Silta's after that chest and who else is playing this game."

Marquis nodded. "It'll be done, Captain."

Archer led the other men from the captain's quarters and back into the dimming sun, reflecting brilliantly off the red sails of the Avourienne. Archer beckoned Lyra.

"You're to trail us," he whispered to her. "As best as you can."

There was a laugh from the rail across from them. "Have fun with that, traitor," Silta called as she approached back from the plank. "I've heard we're awfully hard to find at night."

Archer glanced at her as she stopped in front of them. "My hearing's sharp as ever, Kingsley," she told him, not breaking his gaze.

He found his mind wandering to what Lyra had mentioned earlier. How could something like that happen to Silta?

Lyra ignored Silta and spoke to him, "I'll do my best."

Archer tugged her aside, away from Silta's haunting expression. He leaned in and whispered, "When the Avourienne attacked. You were in the cells. Why?"

Lyra narrowed her eyes. "No reason."

"Tailsley."

Lyra glanced over at Silta, who had turned around to speak with Britter. "I took Nelson."

Archer blinked. "You did what?"

"When you left my room, you left the door open. So I went to close it and I heard a noise. When I walked outside, Nelson was climbing the rail. There was no one else I could see—they must've been still climbing the sides. So I knocked Nelson out and put him in the cells. I thought it would be useful. Only our scouts saw me do it and they've agreed to keep quiet."

Archer raised an eyebrow. "You were acting when you first saw Silta?"

"No. I knew the Avourienne was attacking; I didn't know she was still alive. I didn't tell you because the less people to bluff over it, the less likely Silta would catch it."

Archer glanced belowdecks. "That's good, but if it came down to it, she'd let us have Nelson before we get to use it as a bargain."

"Either way, that doesn't matter. The Avourienne has a pull. If you're a crew member, you can feel where the ship is. You didn't feel that when you were a crew member?"

Archer had always thought his draw to the ship was something else. "That's the way you're going to trail us," he concluded.

"It's better than nothing. If I can get Nelson to talk."

Archer tried to suppress his face, for Silta was probably still watching. "You don't think she'll notice for a while?"

"Let's hope not."

He gave her a final smile and moved back to the team he'd chosen. Lyra followed him as he crossed the deck. His team was waiting for him, and the rest of the Myriad crew had been told to go belowdecks.

Marquis' eyes, usually painfully calm, danced with excitement. "We're ready, Cap."

Even though Archer hadn't given the go-ahead, Pincho was already crossing the plank. Britter checked him for weapons, and then he jumped onto the smaller ship's deck, taking Silta's hand.

"Welcome aboard the Avourienne," she said to him, her fingers curling around his unnecessarily. "You've got a name, love?"

"Pincho, Captain," he replied. "I'm the combat instructor for the Myriad."

"I'd love to have a go. You look like you could teach me a thing or two."

Pincho's mouth opened to reply, but nothing came out, drawing a snort from Marquis. Beside them, Bickie raised his eyebrows. "She's quick," he murmured.

"Very quick," Archer replied. "Don't look her in the eye."

Bickie laughed. "Oh, don't worry about that, Captain. She's not really my...type."

Archer glanced at him. "Oh?" He paused for a moment. "Oh."

Bickie grinned at his reply, his eyes wrinkling. He nodded to Archer as he made his way to the plank himself.

Pincho had stumbled away, leaving Silta's attention on Bickie as Britter searched him and sent him across.

"Welcome aboard," Silta told him, her eyes flicking to his shoulders. It didn't look like it, but she was assessing his strength and skill. "Name?"

"Bickie," he replied. "I'm a scout. It's a lovely ship, ma'am."

Silta lifted her chin, holding tight to Bickie's hand as he tried to draw away. She drew her eyebrows slightly like she sensed something was wrong. She glanced at Archer. "Is this a challenge?" she asked, gesturing to Bickie. "Are you challenging me?"

Marquis made a grunt. "How in angel's name did she tell that fast?" he murmured.

"That's her thing," Archer replied. To Silta, he spoke up, "I thought it would humble you."

She grinned, at Archer, then back at Bickie. "Only a matter of time," she told him, letting him go.

Marquis jumped onto the deck on his own, ignoring both Silta and her hand. Archer was the last one. Britter stood at the rail, expectant.

"Legs apart, Kingsley," he instructed.

Archer didn't stop for him. "I'll keep everything I have on me, thank you."

Silta offered Archer her hand and when he took it, she slipped one of the knives from his sleeve. He went to stop her, but she'd already tossed it over the rail. It hit the water with a splash.

"That was not part of the deal," he said.

Silta held tight to his fingers, reaching around his hip to snatch his pistol.

Archer smacked her hand out of the way. "I keep my pistol."

She reached again, and Archer held his hand—that she was still clutching—at arm's length. "I keep my pistol," he repeated.

"You can have one knife. No pistols." She let go of his hand, but Archer twisted it to hold her wrist.

"I keep my pistol."

She spun her arm, loosening Archer's grip. She was effortlessly quick as she seized the pistol at his side, and he was equally nimble as he slipped hers from her hip at the same time.

She took a step back, glancing down as Archer placed hers where his had been. "I keep a pistol," he said. "But I suppose it doesn't have to be mine."

Silta glanced down at the pistol she'd stolen—a single shot, whereas hers had been a revolver. "That was quick," she noted.

"I have a fast reaction time," he replied. "You, not so much."

Silta pointed the handle of his pistol at him. "Funny boy."

He glanced around. "Where did you put my crew?" Pincho and the others had been on the deck a moment ago, but as the Avourienne pulled away, Archer realized they were gone.

She grinned, canines sharp. "Come and see."