They don't come back the same. Never.

Alli was screaming. Immediately, arms were around her, drawing her body away from the dream but leaving her mind asleep, with the black eyes and the hands around her throat. Of the dead that don't come back the same.

"Laurier."

Alli reached for her throat, desperately taking in air. She twisted out of Liam's arms, gasping. She threw her fists and her arms at anything she could find—the black eyes, the throat, the hands, the eyes, the dead—

"Laurier, dammit, wake up."

The screams dried in her throat as her eyes finally fluttered open and the dream faded, then disappeared. Alli took one last deep breath once she realized it was over.

"Laurier."

Alli pushed him away, disoriented and confused. "Stop calling me that," she snapped.

"I'll stop calling you by your damn name when you tell me what happened," he said back, sitting up.

Alli couldn't look at him. Not his pretty eyes, glistening in the light of the pub last night, not his face with the curved smile, not his hair she'd spent the night with her fingers in. She reached up to her temples, her head so full. "I need it out," she mumbled.

"What?"

"The map," she snapped again, frustration building. "I need it out of my head."

He searched her eyes, so brilliantly blue. "The map to Myria's chest?" he asked.

Alli sat up further, desperate to get it out. Too many stars. Too much magic and black and evil.

"Get it out, get it out!" Alli continued to shake her head. She didn't want this map anymore. It was deadly and dangerous and evil and she wanted it out. It was leading them somewhere horrible. It was leading them to something awful.

Liam leaned over to his nightstand, opening the drawer. He tossed her some ink and a pad of paper.

She grasped for it quickly, starting the sketch. A few stars in—once her heart rate had settled and the dream had further disappeared, she glanced over at Liam, watching her.

She put down the ink. "Was this your plan?" she asked him, her fear morphing to anger. "Get me in bed and get the whole map from me? Silta put you up to this?"

He smiled, then laughed. He ran his hands through his hair. "You're nuts, Laurier."

"Then why do this at all?" she spat back at him. "If I'm so crazy."

He groaned as he laid back. "You begged me. You said to me that—you know what?" He sat up once more. "I'm sleeping on the floor again. I'll take back pain any day over whatever the hell is wrong with you." He finished with a laugh, tossing a pillow on the ground.

Alli knew she was being irrational. She knew she was jumping to conclusions, and she knew that she'd been the one to start this, but the map felt full in her head, and it felt wrong. Those fingers around her neck felt wrong. Everything felt wrong and unsafe—but Liam had felt some semblance of safe. He'd felt like an adventure, her incredible fantasy checked off a list. Now she was ruining it.

"I'm sorry," she blurted, then tried to soften her approach. "It's just a lot of pressure. This map feels wrong. It feels...evil."

Liam glanced at her and tossed his blanket on the ground. He didn't answer.

"I didn't mean to freak you out," she tried. "I didn't mean to blame you."

"You're all over the place, Laurier," he said. "I don't do shit like this. I run a ship; I'm good at that, nothing else. So, you stay up there, and I'll stay down here."

"I don't want you down there."

He looked over at her. "Nope. No. You're not doing that eye-fluttery-look-at-me-I'm-blonde-and-pretty thing. Stay up there."

Pretty. He thought she was pretty? She was desperate to make him stay now. "Look, I don't know what's wrong with me, but this map and his stupid black eyes are just—"

He immediately looked up. "What?"

"What?" Alli repeated. "The man that attacked me. He had black eyes. I can't stop seeing them, and I can't stop feeling his hands around my neck. But for a moment, with you, I stopped seeing and feeling Him. So please come back."

Liam's fingers curled slightly, but he put his weight back on the bed. "You're sure—about the black eyes?"

"Yes. Why, that means something to you?"

He shook his head quickly. "No. I used to know someone who—but that's impossible." He laughed. "Body over the rail my own damn self. Angels, Laurier, your psycho is rubbing off on me."

Alli sighed. "I was supposed to fix you," she said.

"You're unhinged. You're not fixing anyone."

"I'm sorry. It was just a nightmare. Don't get so freaked out."

Britter squinted at her, still on the fence.

Alli patted the pillow next to her. "Come back. Get me back to sleep."

"You're out of your mind," he said, but he picked his blanket back off the floor.

Alli smiled. She liked his nonchalance, his simple, unconfusing feelings. He knew exactly how he felt, what he wanted, and he'd tell her the truth about things.

He placed a pillow in the middle of the bed. "That's your side," he said. "Keep your nightmares over there, okay?"

Alli grinned at as he laid down. She watched his perfect jawline and nose. She rolled onto her stomach and placed her chin in her hands.

"Stop looking at me, Laurier."

Alli couldn't stop smiling. She'd wanted to fix Britter, but maybe he could fix her.

*

Silta came into the first mate's room at the first hint of light, her voice stiff, "Wake up. I need my map."

Alli vigorously blinked her eyes. Britter groaned and rolled over, taking his fingers from her side. So much for staying on his side.

"Map, love. Get up," Silta said, leaning down to see Alli.

Alli made a face. "It's Laurier," she said, pulling the covers up to her neck. "Do you have any boundaries?"

"Everything you did, I did better."

"Be nice," Britter mumbled, his voice muffled by a pillow.

Silta spun around, pushing open the curtains. "It's navigation hour," she said. "And I want my map. All of it."

Alli sat up quickly, fully awake now. "What do you mean all of it? We're far from the chest."

"I'm done waiting. There are rough seas ahead, and Rusher needs a course. Up and in navigation in five minutes." She turned away, not bothering to shut the door.

Alli rolled over and nudged Britter. "She wants the whole map."

"I heard."

Alli tapped him on the shoulder. "Liam. If she gets the whole map, she has no use for me."

"I don't care, Laurier. She could toss you over the side and I wouldn't notice. In fact, it might be nice to have some peace quiet."

Alli tapped him again until he turned over.

"What?"

"You crossed over your side last night."

He laughed and threw aside the covers. He didn't look at her while he replied, "I don't have a problem touching you, Laurier. It's the tears that were too much for me."

"I did not cry."

He glanced at her as he buttoned up his uniform. "A little tip, Laurier, give her what she wants. It's not worth what'll happen if you don't."

"Torture doesn't work on strong-minded people," Alli said, but she had her doubts if she were one of those people.

He ran a hand through his hair. "There are worse things than torture, Laurier." His voice lowered to a serious tone. "Don't make a fight."

She watched him leave. She had a slightly bad feeling, but pain was pain. There was nothing Silta could do to her that was worse than pain. Right?

Alli found Kingsley at the bottom of the balcony steps, waiting for her. He gave her no lecture about Britter, no parental look regarding her choices. He just nodded his head to the navigation room, eyes full of his own conflict.

Inside, Silta and Britter were standing, and the navigator, Rusher, was at the table already.

Alli carefully looked around. The half-half she'd given Rusher already was on the table, the navigator tapping it as he twirled a pencil in his fingers. "We want the whole map," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Beside her, Kingsley took a step to his left. Alli wasn't all that good at combat, but she'd been taught by Pincho, who had been taught by Kingsley. She knew the importance of angles in a setup, hence why her captain was putting Alli and himself apart—did that mean he expected a fight?

"We agreed to give you the map one night a time," he said, voice smooth and unconfrontational. "Giving it all loses our only form of leverage."

Across from him, Silta shrugged. "Your leverage isn't my problem. Rough seas are, and I'd like to chart a proper course."

"I can make sure it's proper," Alli insisted.

"You've never been this way," Rusher pointed out. "I have, in this ship, a thousand times. I'm the better navigator to make this decision."

"I've studied the maps," Alli said. "I know the place. I can do it."

"I'm not going to ask you again, love," Silta said, taking a step forward. "Sit at the table, draw the map. It's simple."

Alli shook her head. "No. One night at a time."

Beside her, Britter let out a sigh. "I told you, Laurier—" he started.

Alli cut him off, "I said no. Torture me. Slice me up. Go ahead, do it."

Britter shared her gaze, his eyes focused like he was trying to tell her something. "Nobody is going to touch you, Laurier. Either way. Give us the map."

"She's not giving you anything," Kingsley said, his voice still calm and controlled. "She'll give you one night at a time, as promised."

Silta's sharp gaze was on him. "I let it go last time, love. This time, I'm starting the fight."

She had that intimidation factor down and in place—the one that made Alli want to crawl under the table and hide—but it didn't seem to bother Kingsley. He simply shook his head. "You have no leverage here, Novari. You don't get to start fights," he said.

Silta tilted her head. "I have no leverage," she mumbled, glancing at the ground. She pushed off the wall. "I have no leverage. You think you'd know better, Archer."

"You gave your word on my crew members," Kingsley replied evenly. "Laurier has your information, and you're not killing me. You don't have leverage here, Silta."

She tilted her head, and Alli saw that spark of madness in them. It was a sliver of humanity in her cold, calculating demeanour. She glanced at Britter, and he stepped away, up the stairs to the strategy room.

"A lot of people lose to me because they don't know me," she said, "or they're not smart enough to see what's coming. You don't get to use either of those excuses, love." She snorted. "No leverage. No leverage. Who do you think I am?"

Britter's footsteps sounded down the stairs again, but it sounded like he was struggling with something.

Silta sighed, leaning against the wall. "Listen to the wording, Kingsley: I will not harm the crew you bring aboard my ship."

Alli didn't understand, but it was clear Kingsley did. His mouth had twisted into something like a snarl, eyes on Silta like he'd truly kill her this time.

"There it is," she said, watching his expression. She turned her gaze to Alli and made a gesture to the stairs as Britter appeared again. "Here you are, Laurier. My leverage."

It wasn't just Britter anymore. He wasn't cocky and grinning or any of those things Alli had been wrapped up in. He was solemn and evil, skilled fingers tight around a gleaming knife.

He held it to the throat of her sister.

*

Archer should've known. It was that pressing feeling of always being just a half step behind. Understand everything the moment it happened, or the moment before it happened, but never in time to make any actual difference. That was the reason he couldn't beat Silta; she was just that fraction quicker. On the knife, on the punch and on the thought.

Shuri looked like she might fall unconscious at any moment. She didn't look starved or abused, but there was a gag in her mouth and red circles around her wrists. There were so many reasons Archer should've seen this—the fact that no one seemed to go into the strategy room, the fact that Silta and Britter had always been discussing if it was the right time to bring something out.

Archer told Shuri she would be okay. He'd said he'd take care of Alli. He'd berated her for not trusting him.

Silta gestured to the blank map on the table in the silence. "Start drawing, Laurier. I'll have Britter cut off a finger for each minute you make me wait."

Alli was shaking her head, eyes watering as she held out her hands to Britter. "Don't do this," she begged. "Please don't do this. That's my sister—"

"I'm not going to do anything," he told her gently. "Just draw the map, and we don't have any problems."

"I can't!" Alli hiccupped a little, her face blank. "Just—please."

"I tried to help you," he answered simply. "You didn't listen."

"Help—you tried to help—you have a knife to the neck of my family!"

"You're not my girl, Laurier," Britter told her, his voice low. "I wouldn't make exceptions for you if you were. Just sit down and draw, Alli. We won't have any problems."

Tears spilled over Alli's eyes, her posture helpless. She looked back to Archer, who held his composure despite his strumming heart. He couldn't win this, but he could diffuse it. He gestured to Britter, whose knife was drawing blood on Shuri's silent neck.

"Britter, relax on the knife for a second," Archer said.

"I don't answer to you, Kingsley," Britter replied.

"No? Relax on the knife or I'm walking at the next port." She'll go further off the rails without me here.

Britter pulled the knife away just a fraction, and Shuri gasped for breath, blood trickling down her neck.

"Hold on," Silta said. "What the hell?" She turned to Liam. "What the hell was that?"

"Novari," Archer said, attempting to draw her attention. "We'll give you more of the map—"

"All of the map, Archer, now," she snapped back. She spun back to Britter. "Put that knife to the skin, Liam."

Britter raised his chin slightly, not meeting her gaze. His hand didn't shake or waver, but it took him a few long moments and a deep breath before he pressed the knife again.

Alli darted forward, reaching out to do something—take the knife, push Britter away, grab Shuri—so Britter pushed Shuri over to Silta, taking Alli for himself. He threw his knife to Silta and drew his pistol to Alli's temple. Silta wasn't as forgiving as Britter, and the blood from under Shuri's jaw continued to dribble as she pressed.

Archer put his hands out again, but now he was losing control. "Enough. Enough with the knives. We'll make a new deal."

Silta drew the knife from Shuri's neck and drove it into her shoulder instead. It went deep, almost to the hilt. Shuri let out a chilling scream that echoed off the walls, and Alli's faint protests turned into a full fight; she kicked and punched out at Britter, doing everything in her power to get out of his grasp. He held both of her wrists, pushing her chest to the wall to immobilize her.

"The map Laurier," Silta snarled. Blood poured from Shuri's shoulder as Silta wrenched out the knife to another scream. She put it back on Shuri's neck.

Fury boiled in Archer. He comforted her over Bardarian's death. He said he'd help her from the hole she'd dug herself. He told himself maybe they could figure it out, some way they could work with each other. Some way they could end up together.

Shuri was a member of Archer's crew, and Silta had just put a knife through her while he was telling her they would make a new deal. She had no patience, no exceptions, not even for him. They were piling up—the number of times he'd tried and failed to pretend she could be reasoned with.

Fine. Fine. If she was going to play this game, so would he.

He pulled the knife from his boot and reached over the navigation desk to Rusher. He pulled him by the shoulders, wrenching him over the table. The navigator—confused and shocked—kicked out he was dragged over the surface. Archer pulled Alexander's neck into the crook of his elbow and pressed down, the knife under his chin.

Britter let go of Alli immediately, and she scrambled away.

"Is it worth it?" Archer snapped, choking Alexander until he sputtered. "Is your navigator worth this power play? Because I'll kill him, Novari. I'll kill him just like I killed Bardarian."

Silta kept her knife on Shuri, eyes calm and calculated to the untrained eye. She spoke just above a whisper, "If you hurt him, Kingsley, I'll kill you."

Archer laughed. "Do it, then. Let me kill him, and then kill me. Kill the rest of my crew. I'll be dead, they'll be dead, but your navigator will be just as dead as the rest of us." He wasn't sure if it were even a bluff.

Rusher clawed at Archer's arms, using his fingernails to draw blood. The pain didn't even surface to Archer. Alexander's throat crackled as he tried to breathe.

"Let him breathe, Archer," Britter said. It was firm, but it reeked with the undertone of begging.

"I'll let him breathe," Archer replied to Britter, but he kept his eyes on Silta. "I'll let him breathe the moment we make a new deal."

Silta looked perfectly calm, but she was panicking; he could see it leaking through the mask she held over her face. A year ago, that panic would've never surfaced—perhaps it would've never been there, but today it was.

She spoke slowly, still holding on to the act for dear life, "Fifteen nights of the map from Laurier, today."

"Fifteen?" Archer asked, ignoring Alexander's elbow. "Don't think we can do that."

"Twelve."

"Twelve?"

"Ten. Let him breathe, Kingsley."

"Okay, sure, ten," Arche replied. "Ten nights of the map today, and Alli stays with me in the corner room. Shuri gets dropped off at the next port we reach after she's treated utterly and completely by Miller. You make a vow that neither Laurier nor any member of my crew will be touched by you or your crew."

Alexander began to relax, his fingers falling from Archer's arm.

"You're killing him, Archer," Britter insisted. "Just let him breathe."

"Make the deal, Novari," Archer said. "I don't move until you do."

Silta's face was threatening to twist, her mask threatening to shatter. "Antagonist basis," she said. "Mine fights back if yours does first."

"Novari," Britter begged.

"Sure," Archer replied. "With the exception of you. You don't touch anyone no matter what they do."

"I'll touch anyone who touches me," she snapped. The mask disappeared, dropped to the ground without her permission.

"No, you won't," Archer replied. Alexander had stopped struggling entirely.

"Novari!" Britter shouted.

Silta lifted her chin, and Archer could see her pride standing tall. She took one, strained breath in and said, "Fine."

Archer let Alexander fall, and he crumbled to the floor, unconscious. Britter got to his knees to check the navigators pulse. Archer stepped around him, gesturing for Shuri.

Silta stepped away, rebuilding her mask. "Liam?" she asked.

Britter let out a long, relieved sigh and laid his head back against the wall. "He's fine," he said.

Shuri let her tears go, and she reached out to Archer. Her hands, a mess of blood from her shoulder, took a fistful of his shirt. He thought she was going to scream in anger, but all she did was sob, her head to his chest, her shoulders caved in like she was falling apart.

Archer glanced at Alli. "Get Pincho, please, Laurier."

"Laurier isn't leaving this room until she's drawn ten nights," Silta said.

Archer couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "Oh, fuck off. Laurier, go get Pincho. Come right back."

Silta blinked. "Get Starle too, then," she added as Alli left.

Britter dragged Rusher across the floor and rolled him up onto the couch at the back of the room. He turned around and ran a hand through his hair. "That's not Kingsley," he said, pointing a finger at Archer. "I don't know who the that is, but it's not Kingsley."

Silta smiled, leaning against the wall. "He's grown. Think I like him better like this."

"No shit you do," Britter said with a laugh, sitting down next to Alexander's head. "Because that's not Kingsley, that's just a shorter Bardarian." He tapped the navigator's head. "Should we braid his hair or something while he's out?"

"Valour has a powder," Silta said. "We could make it pink."

Archer pressed down on Shuri's shoulder, slowing the bleeding. "The two of you make me nauseous," he muttered.

"Oh, come on," Britter said. "You just beat this shit out of us. Gloat a little."

Archer wouldn't ever understand that. His hands were shaking and his heart was strumming away at a thousand beats per second. None of that had been even remotely fun for him, and he could still feel the desperate way Alexander had clawed at him. None of it was entertaining or pride-inducing.

Alli pushed the door open, and Pincho came through with Starle, faces white at the sight of Shuri.

"Take her to Miller, please," Archer told Pincho, offering him Shuri. He reached out and took the knife from Silta. "Show her this. All the way to the hilt."

"Yes, sir," he replied, handling Shuri carefully. The two of them left the room as quick as they could.

Silta nodded to Starle, who sat at the navigation table. "She's giving you an advance of ten nights, love. Simple star map."

Starle nodded, and Laurier sat down across from him. Her tears had dried, and her face was coloured normal again. She didn't look traumatized in the least, but she did look mad.

Archer leaned on the wall across from Silta. "You broke the rules," he said. "By taking Shuri."

"Yes," Silta answered, watching Alli draw. "Only because you broke them first."

Archer opened his mouth to express his confusion, then shut it.

"Did you forget that you stole trippy?" Silta asked.

He might've. "That had nothing to do with leverage," he pointed. "I was just trying to keep the Myriad close. Nothing will happen to him."

Silta waved a hand. "Your intentions were far nicer, but you still broke the rules first, which meant I could break them, too."

"Holy shit," Starle said.

"What?" Britter asked from the couch.

"I think—hold on," Starle said, holding up a finger. "I must have something wrong."

"You don't have anything wrong," Alli said, still drawing. "That's Bloodsea."

"Bloodsea?" Britter asked, coming over.

Archer looked over Alli's shoulder. Her coordinates did, in fact, lead directly to the northernmost portion of Myria, where the water was said to turn bloodred.

"Coloured water freaks you boys out or something?" Silta asked.

"It's not just red," Britter said. "It's supposed to mess with your head. Mess with your loyalty. And it's also supposed to kill you."

"My mother and I used to vacation there."

"It's a myth?"

Silta shrugged, also looking over Alli's shoulder. "Maybe it makes you a little foggy, or maybe it's a placebo. But it doesn't kill anyone."

Starle continued to transfer over Alli's coordinates, until she got to the ninth one. She finished it, then put her pencil down.

"Alli," Britter said carefully. "You've got one more."

"Do I?" she asked. She pushed the chair back and turned around, facing all three of them. "I must've miscounted. I guess nine is all you get."

Silta glanced at Archer, who watched Alli, her face stony and sure. "Ten, Laurier," Silta said.

"What difference does one coordinate make, really?" Alli said. "It's not really going to affect anything. All it does it tell you who's in charge."

"I'm guess that's you," Silta said, mouth curling into a smile.

"Hey, you are as smart as they say," Alli said. "But just in case you didn't figure out what that means, I'll tell you: If my sister gets touched again, I'll put your pistol to my head and blow your precious map right out of existence." She stepped around Silta, walking to the door.

Britter pointed at Alli. "Holy shit. It's you," he said to Silta. "She's you. Archer's Bardarian, and Laurier is you!"

Silta's head was slightly tilted. She could've put Alli in her place, tell her the millions of ways she could control Alli, but she didn't.

It was in those constant moments, where she showed just the tiniest mercy, that Archer felt his hope come back, felt all his issues with what had just happened fade away.

That was the magic ofher.