Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

11 | The Loyalty of Uncertainty (Pt. 1)

Archer stayed very still, his back pressed against the rail of the Forlorn.

The semicircle naturally parted, but Britter spoke before he could move, "Don't move an inch, Kingsley." He knew that moving forward would expose Archer's sides, allowing him to be shot without injury to Kernite.

Archer nodded, fingers doing their best to stay still.

"Say it, Kernite," Britter said, sheathing his knife like it was all over and done.

"We do not forfeit," Kernite said.

"That's so not what I meant," Britter replied, tilting his head with a smile. "You've got a knife to your throat, mate."

But Kernite was an old, wise, experienced man, and he knew a killer from a fake. "This boy?" he scoffed. "He's bluffing."

Archer wished he weren't right. He wished he could kill Kernite right here, right now, or at least put enough pressure on the knife to make it believable, but he really didn't think he could.

"Always so good at calling a bluff." Silta's voice. How she'd followed Archer onto the Forlorn without the ropes was a complete mystery. What mattered was the pistol in her hands, the barrel trained on Kernite and therefore Archer, too.

"Call mine, then," she offered, taking a few steps closer.

"You're aiming at your own sailor," Kernite noted, but there was a certain hesitance to his tone. Silta, he wasn't so sure about.

"I don't really have a problem with that." She gave Kernite a cunning smile, but Archer felt like it was for him. Why tell him to make the swing, only to end up here?

Kernite stayed still in Archer's grasp. His head thundered. She was bluffing. She had to be.

"You're bluffing," Kernite said to her.

"You think so?" she replied. "Call it."

Archer examined her carefully, and he concluded she wasn't bluffing in the least. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he wasn't a good judge of expression, that he couldn't see all those telltale signs of confidence. She was prepared to shoot him dead to win a fight they'd been winning anyway.

The ocean went silent again, Kernite's breathing loud in Archer's senses.

"Forfeit," Kernite finally whispered.

The crew of the Forlorn dropped their weapons, metal falling to the decks as they began backing away. The Avourienne crew let them go, disappointed that their fight was cut short.

The Avourienne pulled back over to the Forlorn's starboard side, allowing the crews to redisperse on their respective ships. Archer began to step forward, watching Silta and that trigger finger. He stepped forward until he was a foot from her, her barrel almost touching Kernite's forehead, dagger still across his neck.

Finally, he let go of the knife, not meeting Silta's gaze, and stepped back over to the Avourienne. She'd known Kernite would call Archer's bluff from the moment he suggested the swing to her. She'd known the whole situation would happen the way it did. She'd known, and she'd set him up.

His vision turned crimson red at the edges, and his skin felt boiling hot. The loyalty Silta had been shown earlier—that was what Archer should've experienced. It was what he was supposed to receive for killing Jeanne.

Kernite didn't move. Silta held her aim but backed her way over the new gangplank.

"Should I shoot you anyway?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "For trying to bring me to the King?"