All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology)

by Adalyn Grace

  He looks so, so lonely.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this, earlier?” My blood is hot, skin clammy. “This is far worse than just defeating a rebellion, Bastian. I don’t know that I can handle this on my own.”

  His face and shoulders fall with shame. “I never wanted to go back to Zudoh. I meant to live out the rest of my life like this, bound to this blasted ship and as far away from Kaven as I could get. I lived in fear of him for years—knowing my island was in trouble, but too afraid to do anything about it. But the more I tried to avoid thinking about the people who must still be suffering, the more it started to eat me alive. I couldn’t focus. Couldn’t sleep. Then I heard Arida was throwing a celebration for their princess.”

  This isn’t the Bastian I’m familiar with. This person is raw. Angry and vicious.

  “I was visiting Valuka when I heard your performance was coming up,” Bastian says. “Aridian magic is what Kaven always wanted, and I knew then that it was the only thing strong enough to stop him. I figured I could at least try to convince your father of the dangers he was ignoring. I wanted him to know that Kaven was a true threat, though it was naive of me to think he’d do anything after so many years of ignorance. But then I saw you.” His fingers hover over my knuckles, hesitant. It takes a long moment before he can press them against my skin, encompassing my hand fully. I think to pull them away, but I can’t find the power to.

  “I swear it was as if the skies opened and showed me my chance. There you were, confronting your father about the very person I came to warn him about. When you needed a way to escape Arida and redeem yourself, I truly believed that the gods led me to you for a reason.”

  My head swims as a wave of nausea settles in. Whether it’s from the poison or the secrets being spilled one after another, I can’t be sure.

  “Please understand I’ve spent years running,” he whispers. “I’m tired. Every moment I’m away from Keel Haul, I grow sicker. I want my freedom back.” He wears a ghost of a smile before shaking his head. “But the people of Zudoh are imprisoned, too, and I’ve neglected them too long. You asked me before why I didn’t go back sooner, and it’s because I was a coward. When I escaped, I could have tried to find a way to help them, and I didn’t. Now, Kaven’s trying to destroy the rest of the kingdom, just as he destroyed my home. I’m ready for it to end, before he hurts anyone else. And I truly believe, after all of this, that we’re meant to do this together.”

  He feels as though he has a duty to the people of his island; there’s nothing I understand more. His hand is rough but warm as I tighten my grip.

  “No more secrets.” I hold Bastian’s scrutiny until he relaxes with a heavy exhale, realizing I mean my words. “I understand your reasons, but this changes things, Bastian. There can’t be any more secrets.”

  It takes a moment before he responds, his words quiet. “No more secrets. I swear it on my honor as a pirate.”

  “I thought you preferred the term sailor?” I try to tease, but the words are weak as my dizzying vision forces my head back to the pillow. My fight with the Lusca is catching up to me.

  Bastian laughs softly. It’s unnerving how much I like that sound.

  “Let’s not fuss over semantics.” He squeezes my hand once, then stands and dims the oil lamp until it’s barely a flicker. “Try to get some rest. We’ve one more day before we get to Zudoh. We’ll need to be ready.”

  And I’ll need to prepare.

  Through the dim light, I focus on the Lusca’s severed tentacle and the thick barbed hook that curls at the tip. I shudder at the memory of how quickly its poison ate away at me. How it robbed my vision and made me a victim of the sea’s wrath.

  What a brilliant weapon that hook could make.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The room’s empty when I wake the next morning. I ease myself onto shaky feet, stretch my stiff bones, and snag one of Bastian’s coats to wear over my thin linen shirt. The moment I open the door, Ferrick’s there waiting. He jumps to his feet, and I’m surprised to see his coloring is normal and his movements quick. He’s finally adapted to traveling on Keel Haul.

  “Amora!” He nearly knocks me back when he throws his arms around me. “By the gods, I’m so sorry. How are you feeling? You were already in the water by the time I realized what you were doing. The Lusca, Amora! Can you even believe it? We faced the Lusca.” He’s wide-eyed and shaking with a strange mix of relief and excitement.

  The last time Ferrick and I spoke, the conversation didn’t exactly go well. But when he dived into the water after Vataea, panic filled me every time I couldn’t see his red hair bobbing in the water.

  I wrap my arms around Ferrick’s waist and pull myself into his chest, hugging him as tightly as I can—still weak from the blood loss, it’s not much. Unlike Bastian, whose touch was tender and careful, Ferrick nearly crushes me to his body. His warm breath sighs relief into my neck as the tension in his body softens.

  When I draw back, Ferrick looks at me with a gentle smile.

  I will never love Ferrick in the way he wants, but he’s one of the most caring men I’ve ever met. Nothing he’s done since joining me on this journey has been for himself, and it’s time I acknowledge that. I can’t hate him for a decision my parents made.

  “I’m glad you’re safe,” I say. “And I’m sorry about before; you didn’t deserve how cruel I was.” Gods, I can’t remember the last time I apologized for anything. But Ferrick was right; he asked for this marriage no more than I did. “It was incredibly brave of you to jump in after Vataea. How is she?”

  Ferrick swallows, regaining his composure. “She smacked her head when she fell and was knocked out cold by the time she hit the water. But she’s fine now, no injuries. And I’m fine, too. A little tired, but I’ll live.” He smiles with his eyes, squinting the corners of them.

  I squeeze his shoulders. “Thank you, Ferrick. I know my injuries were deep. And I know it had to be exhausting to heal them, especially after getting Vataea safe and finishing off the Lusca.”

  Ferrick’s brows lower against his eyes and he looks away. “About the Lusca … We cut a few more of its tentacles off to be safe, but it’s a legendary beast, and Bastian and I didn’t feel right about killing it. The necklace will fall from it soon enough. Hopefully it’ll return to the sea, and we’ll never see it again.”

  I press my lips together. Their decision seems noble, but it’s not the one I would have made. The Lusca is a legend, yes, but it’s also a threat. If I hadn’t lost control of myself, I would’ve ensured its death.

  But with a defeat that grand, I doubt the beast will attack another ship any time soon.

  Only when I step fully onto the deck do I recognize how grim the sky is. We’re east of Kerost, heading to the southernmost point in all of Visidia and into a frigid, thick gray haze that sinks into my skin. The waters on the horizon are bleak—green rather than the crystal blue I’m used to. They churn angrily. Keel Haul has regained her confidence as she plunges onward, but that doesn’t stop the tides from beating against her, urging the ship to turn back.

  No dolphins flank our ship. There are no seagulls to fill the sky, because despite the stories I’ve heard about the endless schools of rare fish in these waters, the sea here looks dark and diseased. I fear that if I dip my hand into the water, my flesh will dissolve in the murky green tides.

  There’s no life here. Everything is still and silent.

  I catch sight of Bastian on the rigging. He’s high up near the sails, mending a patch destroyed by the Lusca. When he catches me staring, he cocks his head, as if waiting for me to ask a question I don’t have. I turn away quickly.

  “Look who’s finally awake!” Vataea emerges from the cabin and waves at me, a delighted crinkle in her eyes. She’s dressed in my new clothing, and though it fits her well, it almost looks wrong on her body. She looks strangled by fabric.

  Guilt swells inside me. I should have tried harder to prevent her from falling from Keel Haul. I
should have saved her.

  “I hear you were the star of the show,” Vataea says. I’ve forgotten how smooth and welcoming her voice is, as beautiful as music. She steps forward and presses a kiss to my cheek.

  My throat numbs and I struggle to remember how to breathe. I thought breathing was supposed to be a natural instinct, but apparently that’s not the case when you’re kissed by a mermaid.

  Beside me, Ferrick’s fair skin has betrayed him yet again. He blushes a fervent, fiery red.

  “Ferrick’s the one who really saved you,” I say, watching as the mermaid’s playful expression splits into one of surprise. She turns to him. No one’s told her.

  Ferrick’s blush grows deeper.

  “Is this true?” Vataea asks.

  Ferrick lifts his hands and tries to dismiss the question with a wave of his arms. “It’s no big deal,” he manages to stammer. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right since … since you’re part of the crew, now.” He clears his throat only to choke as Vataea presses onto her toes and kisses his cheek, as well.

  Ferrick looks as though he needs medical attention by the time she pulls away. When he casts a guilty glance my way, I only smile.

  When Bastian joins us, his skin sheens with sweat from a full morning’s work, and his dark hair is wild, ruffled by the wind. I quickly look away, my cheeks heating.

  “Glad to see everyone’s in fine spirits,” he says, skimming over Ferrick, “but it’s time we discuss Zudoh.”

  “What’s left to discuss?” Vataea inspects her nails. “We already made our plan. Get in, kill the man, get out.”

  Bastian’s jaw twitches. “We never talked about what’s going to happen once we arrive. There are parts of the island that are dangerous. Your siren magic only works if you’re in water, right? You’re not always going to have water around to protect you.”

  She peers up from her nails and her eyes narrow into dangerous slits.

  “I want to talk about weapons,” Bastian says before Vataea can cut off his tongue. “I have my sword, and Amora has her dagger. Ferrick, you still have your rapier, right?”

  Ferrick nods.

  “Good,” Bastian continues. “Then all that’s left to take care of is finding a weapon for you, Vataea. Have you ever used one before?”

  “Bits of coral, here and there.”

  From the way he grimaces, it’s clear that’s not what Bastian had in mind. Before he can say anything, though, I draw my dagger from my belt and offer it to Vataea. She looks down at it, then at me.

  “Take it.” I press it into her hesitant palm. “Just to borrow, until we get off Zudoh.”

  Bastian stretches his lungs with a dramatic sigh. “How does this solve our problem? Now you’re the one with no weapon, Amora.”

  “I have an idea,” I say simply. “Take me back into your quarters and I’ll show you.”

  He lifts a brow. “Now, now, Princess. There’s no need to be so forthcoming. If you want to accompany me into the captain’s quarters, you need only suggest it.”

  Ferrick turns away with a shake of his head.

  I ignore it, jabbing Bastian’s shoulder and rolling my eyes. “Just follow me.”

  This time, as Bastian laughs, I don’t suppress the shudder that passes through my body and settles into my core. He bows at the waist and extends an arm forward.

  “Lead the way.”

  * * *

  When I show Bastian what I intend to do with the Lusca’s poisoned hook, he claims to have knowledge about building weapons. But as he hovers over me, feasting on my creation with curious delight and not one word of helpful advice, I realize that’s a lie. He’s only here for the show.

  Under normal circumstances, I prefer to work in private. There’s something richly satisfying in giving all of yourself up to an act of creation. It’s like magic. It demands your focus and requires a small piece of your soul to complete.

  Yet this is the second time now that Bastian’s tricked me into allowing him to watch me work, and the only reason I let him stay is because I like the way his presence causes my skin to prickle with anticipation and awareness. That, and I appreciate the satisfied noises he makes in the back of his throat whenever I do something particularly clever.

  Until I can find the supplies to make a proper hilt, the weapon I’ve created is crude. The giant hook is large and sharp, similar to a blade. I’ve spent the past five or six hours meticulously shaping it into a dagger with scattered atlases and the corner of Bastian’s bed—anything heavy enough to work the thick hook. Now it’s firm, pointed and curved at the tip with a sharp, hooked edge. Its danger lies in its jagged edges and the poison lurking inside it. There’s no way to test it, but the poison should latch onto anyone whose blood it draws.

  For now, I’ve fastened rope tightly around the bottom as a hilt. It doesn’t look like the strongest weapon, and its range is limited, but I’ve bashed it against enough things to know it’s durable and powerful.

  I imagine it will cut through skin slick as gelatin.

  “You certainly have a creative mind, I’ll give you that much.” Bastian leans around me to eye the desk. He’s close enough that his chest presses against my back as he breathes, and the warmth of those breaths tickles my cheek. “Where’d you learn so much about weapons, anyway?”

  “I had a guard back on Arida named Casem,” I say as I run my finger across my new weapon, careful not to break skin. “His father was a weapons master, in charge of instructing our soldiers. He’s also one of my father’s closest friends; Casem and I trained under him when we were children, and sometimes he would bring us into the forge so we could watch the weapons being made.”

  “And you think this blade will truly work?”

  I nod. The wound the Lusca gave me was small but deep, and still it was enough to knock me out cold. If I attack someone with this, I don’t intend to make a small wound. I intend to kill.

  “Of course it will.” I hold it to the window, into whatever light has managed to sneak through the thick haze outside. It’s a rich navy hue, with iridescent specks of turquoise and silver floating inside the material. From the right angle, it looks as though there are things moving from within the weapon, like microscopic leeches waiting for blood.

  I wouldn’t doubt that possibility. This weapon is part of the Lusca, after all.

  “I’ve made a legendary weapon. I’m sure it will work better than I can imagine.” I set it beside my sheath on the table. I’ll have to be far more careful with this weapon than my normal dagger.

  “If it’s a legendary weapon,” Bastian says, “it deserves a legendary name.”

  It’s like he’s taunting me with how close he stands. My heartbeat races as Bastian inches his way closer.

  He’s right, but I’ve never named a blade before. The weapon I’ve scrounged up is truly one of a kind. A magical thing. “Do you have a suggestion?”

  Bastian laughs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Princess. The one who creates the weapon is the one who gets to name it. But I imagine it deserves something dangerous.”

  “I’ll think on it.” I press my lips together, trying to ignore how he has one arm draped around my chair while he moves beside me, maintaining our tight space. There’s an entire room around us, and yet he’s nearly pressed against me.

  He smells of sea and sunlight. Of adventure. It clings to his shirt and makes its home in his hair. I find myself wanting to let my fingers roam through it, to shake out the tiny grains of sand trapped there.

  There’s a split second where the air shifts. I turn to catch him looking at me, and when I think he might turn away, he doesn’t. His grip tightens on the chair, and I think of the way those hands felt as they held my hips tightly to him. The way his lips felt against mine when we kissed, and how I didn’t want it to end.

  Perhaps he and I want the same thing.

  I run my tongue over my lips, tasting the nervous words before I speak them. “Do you remember when I f
reed you from Vataea’s trance?”

  He draws his head back. I can’t tell whether he’s bemused or taken back, but he obliges all the same. “Of course.”

  His words taste like challenge. I take the bait. “Well, she told me something funny about it.”

  His right hand is on the desk. I trail my fingers toward it, slowly, brushing one gently across the back of his palm. He draws his bottom lip in, but otherwise doesn’t budge. “What did she tell you?”

  “As it turns out,” I say softly, “it’s impossible to break anyone out of the trance unless they have feelings for you.”

  “Feelings?” he echoes, shifting his right hand so his fingers weave between mine. “You mean like this?”

  He kisses me, drawing his body firmly around mine. His lips aren’t soft. They’re rough and imploring, continuing where we left off. He tastes of salt. I drink him in, winding my arms around his neck, through his hair, over his shoulders. He shifts so he can wrap his arm around my back and pulls me from my chair with a quiet grunt. Seconds later, I’m against the wall, his hand wrapped in my hair and his lips roving my neck. My body is so warm I fear I might melt right here, pressed against Bastian’s chest.

  I catch his jaw and bring it back to my lips, tasting the salt, the sunlight, all of it. All of him. I’ve kissed many boys before, but none of them felt like this. None of them made me fear my heart might burst through my rib cage and combust from working so hard.

  I don’t want him to pull away. I want to bury myself in the warmth of his body and explore this feeling.

  He ends it too soon. When he draws away, I’m not only breathless—I’m hungry. I want more.

  There’s a matching hunger in his eyes as they roam my body, his chest rising and falling quickly from shaky breaths. Desire pulses within his stare when his eyes reach mine, but he forces it back and plasters a grin onto his face.

  “Is that an honest enough answer for you?” His voice is filled with a huskiness that only makes my hunger grow.