Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

40 | The Adventure of Uncertainty

His rowboat hit the hull of the navy ship as he fastened the hooks.

"Angels, Archer," Lyra called from the rail, tossing down the ladder. "You cut that awfully close."

He didn't reply as he took hold of the ladder and started to climb. His feet were numb and his body was horribly cold. He wondered if he would be able to stand at all.

Reaching for the rail, he pulled himself over, feet back on solid ground. He glanced at Lyra, but she was looking at his clothes, covered in blood, his black eyes, the dried red in his hair.

Kerian stood next to her, dark brows drawn. "Who made it?" he asked.

Archer didn't fall to his knees, didn't burst out sobbing. He looked over at the remnants of the Kingsland as they sunk to the ocean floor. "Nobody."

Lyra followed his gaze, her face turning white.

"My father?" Kerian asked.

"Dead," Archer answered.

Lyra cleared her throat. "Bardarian?"

"Dead."

Lyra's lips pursed, nose flaring a little as she mulled over her next question. She said it eventually, but it came out like a whisper, "Silta?"

"Dead," Archer said. He stepped by her. Cold, callous, unfeeling. That's who he wanted to be, but he wasn't sure if he was making it. He wanted to forget everything, the smell of iron, the warm feeling of it through his hands. But I loved you.

"We need to move," Kerian said. "The navy ships are pulling out." He nodded behind Archer, where the ships from the outer port were circling, assessing their destroyed home.

"You run the navy," Archer told him, then stepped by him as well.

Kerian blinked for a moment, pristine royal manners faltering for a second. Archer didn't care to watch his reaction, to wonder about the fate of the ocean. He took the topdeck of the navy ship Lyra had commandeered, looking out at the sun rising, welcoming a new day. He wanted to demand that it stop moving, demand everyone stop moving for just a second so he could breathe. He placed both hands on the bow rail and took a deep, heaving breath in. He felt the sting of his sinuses again, felt the rise of something in his throat. He needed to change, wash off her blood from his hands, but he had the sinking suspicious that would never rid of it entirely.

Kerian's hand came down heavily on the rail beside him. For her part, Lyra had the sense to leave them be for a moment.

Kerian's brow drew as he watched the spires crash into water. On the far side opposite them, the Avourienne circled for a moment, desperation evident as they halted—either to search for what they wouldn't find or reconvene to decide on what else to do. To them, every single person who stepped off the ship last night had not returned, and now it was evident it would stay that way. As the sun came up fully over the horizon, the navy ships began drawing closer. Suddenly, the crimson sails fanned out, and the Devil's ship spun back towards the south and gathered speed, running off like an injured animal in need of recovery.

"I loved him, you know."

Archer glanced over at Kerian, watching the way his eyes scanned the scene before him. He tapped the rail, took a composed breath.

"I know I shouldn't have," the new king said. "But he was still my father in the end."

Archer looked back to the horizon, where the Avourienne had disappeared out there in the deep.

"It's hard to love someone you know isn't a good person," Kerian said. He shook his head, obsidian hair Archer's last reminder of her. "But I suppose life is hard."