Venture to Uncertainty (#1)

31 | The Remnants of Uncertainty

On his way out, Archer snagged one of the wool blankets by the pub door that was supposed to be for covering the windows when the sun came up and the pirates were still drinking. He wrapped it around his shoulders and continued on with his complaining. "It's freezing, Novari," he said, breathing on his hands to warm them up.

"You're fine," she said back, eyes scanning the street in front of them. She walked close enough for her shoulder to brush his over and over, always providing more warmth than any blanket.

"Considering your blood is probably half rum at this point, you're probably nice and warm," he muttered.

She laughed, the stars from the clear night reflecting in her eyes. "I'm sober as ever, Kingsley," she told him. "I've been pouring my drinks down Bates' throat for hours."

He rolled his gaze to her, watching his breath turn to clouds in the dark as he spoke, "Yeah? Pub nights boring for you without some friendly competition?"

"You get me, Kingsley," she said. It was a joke, of course, but it didn't feel like that to him. It felt like she meant it.

"Where are we going?" he whispered, leaning down to ask.

She turned to him as she walked. "Somewhere cold," she whispered back.

"You're kidding."

She shrugged, her shoulder brushing his again. "Not entirely." She took a right turn, and he followed. Silence settled over him, over her, over the entire port. The soft sounds of his footsteps echoed over the cobblestones.

"Is this you finally deciding to kill me?" he asked. "Freezing me to death? Odd way to go about it, don't you think?"

She didn't laugh, didn't respond. For a brief moment, he wondered if he might not be so far from the truth. Staying quiet was so hard for her, and yet now she seemed in no rush to speak.

She took another turn, kept walking. He glanced at her, noting the bridge of her nose, the red tinge of her cheeks from the cool air.

As he watched, a speck of white floated by her head, then another. He stopped walking, frowning as he looked back where he came from. Snow—it was snowing.

"Novari," he whispered, frozen in awe.

"Yes, Archer." Her voice was further away, as if she'd kept walking.

"It's snowing." He reached out to touch one of the flakes, watching it sparkle. They began to come down slowly all around him, silent as they fell.

He felt the curve of her jaw rest against his shoulder, nose buried to keep warm. "You've never seen it snow, Kingsley?" she asked, voice muffled.

He shook his head, watching it collect in her dark hair, each little circle complete with some unique design. "It's so pretty," he said.

He felt the vibration of her humming in agreement. She looked up, watching it come down. "I always thought it made the cold more bearable," she noted.

He turned around to her, starting their walk once more—but this time, she curled her fingers over his forearm, so warm it was hard to believe.

"Does it snow where you're from?" he wondered.

"Never," she replied. "Only up here." She took her hands away, nodding to the building on his right. It was a big one, quite a few stories up. "Climb," she said, reaching for a brick.

"Climb?" he asked, looking up at the height.

"Climb," she confirmed.

He let out a sigh as he tried to find a good route up. He started out strong, but one or two times a loose brick crumbled under his foot and left him dangling over an increasingly large distance downward. He glanced over at her a few feet up, picking out the bricks that could hold her weight with ease.