All the Stars and Teeth

by Adalyn Grace

  “These no longer fit me,” he interrupts, “but I had to keep them anyway, because … I mean, look at them.” Bastian sets the clothing in my arms. The shirt’s linen is smooth against my skin.

  “The stitching on this is phenomenal.” I lift a ruby coat from his arms to admire.

  Bastian makes a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat. “Isn’t it? It cost two black pearls and a full pouch of sea glass, so I’d hope it’s perfection.”

  “There’s no way a pirate can afford that,” Ferrick grumbles.

  Bastian’s chin lifts with defiance. “A pirate’s salary is as infinite as they want it to be. But if you must know, I wooed a very lovely girl for it. The daughter of Mornute’s finest tailor.” He rolls his shoulders back with initial pride before realization strikes. “Speaking of which, we’ll have to avoid that shop.”

  “You’re horrible.” I press the clothing to my chest. Earlier, I’d thought my outfit and adornments lovely. Now they suffocate me with memories of being consumed by my magic. Nothing would be better than ripping them away, changing into something light, and crawling into the hammock.

  I brush past both boys and start toward my cabin.

  “We’re set to sail to Ikae?” I ask, not looking back.

  “Aye,” Bastian says. “With Keel Haul’s speed, we’ll be there before sundown tomorrow.”

  I nod. “And tell me again how stopping there is going to help us find Kaven?”

  Tipping his head back against the wall, Bastian’s arms fold across his broad chest. A lazy smile spreads across his lips as he says, “You know, Princess, the wonderful thing about my owning this ship and you needing to borrow it is that I’m the one who gets to call the shots—something you must not be used to, I know, how awful. But we’re going to stop in Ikae to get information, and that’s all you need to know.”

  Hand on my cabin door, I shoot the boy a dirty glare. “Fine, keep your secrets. But remember that if you try anything, I’ll stab you without a second thought.”

  “Are you flirting with me? It’s a bit hard to tell, considering how terrifying you are.”

  I turn away from him as my neck and cheeks warm, not about to let him see me flustered. “You’re insufferable. Once we’ve found Kaven, know that I plan to throw you overboard and make this ship mine.”

  “Well, no one can say that you’re not honest.” I don’t see him laugh as I let myself into the cabin, but I hear it. “Rest well, Princess.”

  I slam the cabin door shut with a huff. What an awful, arrogant oaf. The day I’m able to commandeer this ship as my own and kick him into the sea will be a fantastic one, indeed.

  Casting aside all thoughts of Bastian, I set to work tearing off my clothing. I remove my necklace and bundle it inside my cape, tucking it and the lovely sapphire gown into a corner for safekeeping, my neck and shoulders cold in their nakedness as the weight of my adornments disappears. The bundle of Ferrick’s severed hand draws my attention, but I’ll deal with it tomorrow.

  For now, I change into the linen shirt and loose cotton pants. I wrap my satchel even tighter around my waist to hold them up as I climb into the hammock.

  This low, the waves sound more ferocious than they are as they beat against Keel Haul. The ship rocks gently against the ocean, and the rhythmic lull makes my eyes heavy. Against the low creaking of wood, the moans of wind, and the sloshing of waves, I find sleep easily.

  I’m more comfortable on this ship than I ought to be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I’ve never slept better than I did my first night on the ocean. I didn’t dream of my execution as I’d feared, nor did I dream of Aridian magic or Aunt Kalea’s color-changing eyes. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I didn’t dream of my magic or ruling Visidia.

  In fact, I didn’t dream at all. I slept through the entire night, despite the hammock.

  My cabin is dark and windowless. When I press my hand against the wood, coolness nips at my skin. There’s no way to know the time, yet I’m well rested and my mind already races. This small cabin is no longer comforting, but claustrophobic. I crave the briny air in my lungs.

  I tighten the satchel so it holds up my pants, stuff on my boots, and throw Bastian’s scarlet coat over myself before I climb the creaky wooden stairs up to the deck. My blood pounds with excitement I hardly understand—I should be focused on getting to Zudoh and finding Kaven before summer’s end. Not getting distracted by the joy of waking up aboard a sailing ship.

  Frigid air floods my lungs the moment I step outside. It’s coated in a thin veil of mist that wraps around my skin and sweetly strokes my face, greeting me like a forgotten friend. The odor of brine and seaweed is thicker than I’ve ever known it. It tells me we’re farther from Arida’s bay than I’ve ventured, and while my skin crawls at the thought, it’s not from worry.

  It’s excitement. Perhaps excitement that would be best experienced under different circumstances, but still. I’ve craved this for years.

  I make my way to the bow, lean over the ledge, and suck in a breath until my lungs nearly burst. The gulls above me cry out as they dive into the water, scooping frenzied fish into their beaks and gulping them down before soaring back into the sky and rejoining their flock. The day has barely broken through the hazy gray skies, and the droplets of water that splash onto my cheek are still cold.

  Still, a relaxed warmth fills my chest and I sink into its comfort.

  “Good morning, Princess.” Bastian stands behind me, a loaf of bread in his palm. He cracks it in half and hands a chunk to me. “There’s some dried meat as well, though I’m afraid the food on Keel Haul is nothing as exquisite as the food on Arida.” The ship groans against the tides, and Bastian pats the edge of it gently. “Sorry, love. You know it’s true.”

  I’ve never seen Bastian in the daylight, and am surprised to find he looks even more like a seasoned voyager than Father. While the sun has bathed itself in his skin, casting gold beneath his warm brown complexion, his eyes hold a brightness that can only come from being drenched in starlight. They’re a striking hazel with brilliant flecks of yellow, and he’s got a smattering of freckles dusted below them. He’s not like anyone I’ve seen before—he’s molded by the world, crafted by travel and adventure. There are stories in those eyes, but I don’t fall for them so easily.

  I take the offered bread.

  “Good morning, pirate.” I bite into the loaf, surprised to find it’s still soft. As if reading my expression, Bastian turns rueful. Slowly, making a show of it, he draws something from his breast pocket. It’s wrapped in an emblazoned handkerchief, and I’m too curious to be amused. Palm flat as he holds it out, he uses his other hand to slowly unfurl whatever is inside.

  It’s ginnada, and I’m salivating.

  “You stole that from Arida,” I say, only posing it as half a question.

  “I don’t think of it as stealing.” He makes a motion to rewrap the dessert but stops with a laugh when he notices me staring. “I think of it as diligently restocking Keel Haul before a hungry princess and her extra-mouth-to-feed fiancé join me. You’re lucky I did, too. Otherwise, we’d be having stale bread and wine until we find somewhere to restock.” He runs a hand through dark chestnut hair, and I notice it’s speckled with sandy pieces the sun has latched onto and bleached.

  “You mean somewhere to swindle?” I ask with a smile.

  Bastian snorts. “Just take it. I saw the way you scarfed these things down last night.”

  “You were watching me all night, then?” Bastian rolls his eyes when I ask this.

  “You flatter yourself. In that crown of yours, you were hard to miss.”

  This pirate’s tongue is too clever for its own good; I don’t bother trying to best it with a response. Instead, I snatch the ginnada from his hand and take a bite, groaning as the sugary almond and buttery crust melt in my mouth.

  “I’m glad I stocked several more.” Bastian laughs as I cram the rest of the ginnada into my
mouth. “It’s not often you happen across a giant festival with free food. It’s best to take advantage of such fortunate circumstances.”

  Another gull wails before it dives for its meal. I watch it, finishing off mine while Bastian leans against the ledge of the ship and stares out into the sea. He may have been handsome beneath the glow of the stars, but here in the sun he’s glorious and comfortable. He must know every inch of Keel Haul.

  “Keel Haul is a magic ship,” I say. “Isn’t it?”

  His shoulders stiffen as he keeps focus on the gulls. Two of them fight above the water for a fish, their wings smacking angrily against the waves as their squeals fill the air.

  “I suppose you could say that,” he admits. “It’s not the type of ship that requires a crew.”

  Magic, then. But none I’ve seen before. Even the most talented Curmanans have to travel in groups to steer heavy ships, and this is nothing like the protective curse magic I was taught Zudians practiced.

  I watch him from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He takes a small hunk of his bread and tosses it into the sea. A fish larger than any I’ve seen floats to the surface and sucks it up before the seagulls can steal it.

  I take another bite of bread. “Well, if you won’t tell me about that, will you at least tell me how familiar you are with Kaven? If Zudoh’s barricaded off as you said it is, how’d you get off the island?”

  Tension knots his shoulders. He chucks another bit of bread into the water before finishing his off. “I left ages ago, before the barricade. I knew Kaven back then, when this mess was first getting started. He stole my magic from me, and I intend to take it back.”

  The fog must have finally made its way through my coat and into my bones. The chill of it touches my core.

  “What do you mean he stole your magic?” I wrap my arms around myself, words nearly catching. Magic is part of a person’s being; everyone has it. You can learn it, study it, grow with it, but you cannot make it disappear once it’s yours. Even if you never use it, it’s still forever with you. “There’s never been a report of someone being able to do that. It’s impossible.”

  “There’s never been a report of a magical ship, either. Yet, here we are.” Bastian waves his arm behind him to gesture around Keel Haul. “The world doesn’t work with only your eyes, Princess. There’s truth in more than what you can see.”

  I settle into my position leaning over Keel Haul. The sun is beginning to break through the thick layer of clouds. Hints of it warm my hands as I close them into fists.

  After seeing part of his clean soul last night, my gut says Bastian’s telling the truth—at least, why would he lie about something so personal?—and if I’ve learned anything in my eighteen years, it’s to follow gut instinct. If Bastian is telling the truth, and if magic can really be stolen, then Kaven’s a bigger threat than I ever could have imagined.

  Why didn’t I know about this? Why doesn’t anyone know?

  “How did Kaven steal it?” I ask. “And if you’ve no magic, then how is this ship sailing?”

  Bastian shakes his head. “Do remember that I just watched you kill a man.” His words are more matter-of-fact than they are cold. “And you threatened to stab me—multiple times, might I add—and steal my ship. So forgive me if I distrust you as much as you distrust me.”

  “He’s truly that dangerous?” I ask quietly.

  A shadow crosses Bastian’s face. “Do you know anyone else with the power to steal another person’s magic?”

  I shake my head. I can’t even imagine what it might be like to have someone steal my magic—it’d be too invasive. Like they were stealing part of my very soul. But I relax in knowing that not only is my magic tied to my soul, but also my very bloodline. I doubt something like that could ever be stolen.

  Bastian lifts his gaze to focus on Ferrick as he approaches, dressed the same as he was last night. His arm has regrown a little overnight, though he’s still missing everything from the forearm down.

  “Good morning, fair fiancé,” Bastian bellows, swiftly changing the subject. “There’s bread and dried meat in storage if you’re hungry.”

  At the mention of food, Ferrick presses a hand to his stomach and groans. He looks even worse than he did last night. His green skin rivals the color of his blazer. With one of Bastian’s handkerchiefs wadded tightly in his hand, he wipes sweat from his forehead.

  “No, thank you.” Ferrick’s voice is pinched. “How anyone can live on a ship, I will never understand. I felt as if I was floating on the sea the entire night.”

  “That’s because you were,” I say.

  Bastian laughs and moves to pat Ferrick on the shoulder, all charm and smiles once more. “Not quite the sailor, are you, mate? No worries, it takes some people days at sea before they adapt. Stick around and you’ll have your sea legs in no time. But in the meantime, if you’re going to throw up, try to avoid doing it on my ship.”

  Ferrick sways. Hurling on Keel Haul is precisely what he looks ready to do.

  “How are you, Amora?” he asks, eyeing the bread in my hands. When I take the last bite, Ferrick looks even queasier.

  “It doesn’t bother me,” is all I say, because how am I supposed to tell him the truth? How do I admit being on this ship feels as natural as breathing? That when I woke up this morning, it wasn’t the possibility of my execution I thought of first. It was the excitement of travel. Of sailing.

  It’s not the way I imagined it, but I’m living a dream I’ve had since the first time I saw the ocean.

  “You’re a natural,” Bastian says. “You even woke with the sun.”

  I accept his compliment with a smile. Though there’s still the tension of curiosity between us, I let it go for the time being. Perhaps some memories are too painful to share. “Does this mean you’ll begin teaching me how to sail?”

  “Nice try, but being a natural on the sea doesn’t mean you’re a natural with Keel Haul. Your enthusiasm is charming, but not quite yet.” The amusement laced in his voice is like a honey cake, warm and sweet. “Besides, you should probably do something about that little amputated gift in your room. Before it starts rotting, please.”

  Ferrick takes a seat and holds his head between his knees. He’s not too ill to snort.

  “It’ll be bloody,” I tell Bastian, who turns up his nose. Keel Haul’s deck is spotless, meaning he must have spent hours scrubbing the mess he made the night before.

  “Drain it into the ocean and then we’ll head below. I’ve a few burlap sacks you can work on.”

  I nod, instinctively setting a hand upon my satchel. After everything I used for the execution, it’s almost empty of bones. I’ll feel better once it’s heavy again.

  “And you’re fine with these clothes getting stained?” I ask.

  Bastian takes a long moment to consider it. Eventually, and probably only because they no longer fit him, he relents. “Just … take the coat off, first.” He turns to Ferrick. “And you’ll feel better if you stay on deck. Try to go below as little as possible. Lift your head and keep a watch on the horizon. Sound good, mate? Eyes on the horizon.”

  Ferrick slowly lifts his head, and instead of ducking it between his knees, he props his chin atop one, forces his eyes to the horizon, and groans.

  Bastian takes this as a dismissal. He turns to me. “How about you show me what you plan to do with that arm?”

  My fingers twitch at my sides as I hesitate, thinking of the horrified faces from last night. Of the terrified screams of my people.

  Though my magic was meant to impress them, my performance only solidified my people’s fear.

  For years I’ve done this part of my work in private, training for the day I’d be able to claim my title as heir to Visidia’s throne. But now there’s no joy in showing off my magic. Nerves writhe within me as I think of Bastian watching.

  Will he think my magic too messy? Too brutal? Or will he understand that what I do is necessary for Visidia
’s survival?

  He follows me to my cabin, where I scoop the hand from the floor before heading back to the deck to unbundle it. My nose curls at the rancid odor of spoiled meat tinged with sweetness, as though someone has tried to mask the stench of death with awful perfume. The skin has blued overnight. It’s vulgar, yet Bastian can’t stop staring as I draw my dagger.

  Hands aren’t unusual for me to work with. They’re small enough and easy to extract from. I draw the blade across the radial artery, and thick, jelly-like blood congeals beneath the blue skin. Not wanting to get any on Keel Haul, I’m careful when I hold it over the ledge and scoop out the oxidized blood with my dagger. Splotches of red paint the water the color of a dark bruise.

  When we eventually move below deck, Bastian fetches two burlap sacks from storage.

  “Help me understand something about your magic,” he begins as he spreads them out on the wood floor. “Why is it that, even if you’re using Ferrick’s bones or—gods forbid—his entire hand, your magic doesn’t hurt him? Why would it hurt someone else, instead?”

  “Fair question.” I crouch above the burlap, then shift to my knees to maintain balance. This far below deck, the waves are fierce and jarring. “I could hurt Ferrick, but I choose who I bind my magic to, and binding requires a conscious effort. I first have to be near them and be able to look into their soul while doing it. Using Ferrick’s bones as a base for my magic, and not as a binder, is a choice.” I try not to think about how much trust Ferrick has in me to let me keep this severed hand of his as I lay it across the burlap and cut open the palm. The blood is minimal as I stretch the skin away from the thin layer of fat, then cut my way through the muscles beneath.

  Though I’ve drained as much blood as I can, that doesn’t prevent my hands from becoming a mess of tissue. Bastian chokes, halting his own vomit.

  I freeze at the sound.

  “That’s very … interesting,” he starts to say, though his words are strained. Brows creased, I look up just in time to see him take one look at the dissected limb and pass out on the floor.