by Adalyn Grace
“We’ll need to hurry,” I tell them. “Kaven’s likely already on his way.”
Keel Haul’s sails bloat satisfactorily as we’re pulled windward, but even the ocean’s heavy breeze can’t carry us as quickly as I’d like.
Head still dipped and his shoulders caved nervously, Casem awkwardly clears his throat. “Does this mean—”
“By the stars, Casem, yes. I forgive you.” I roll my eyes, letting them wander to Vataea. “But I do have a question for you.”
She arches a brow, face sallow and sunken. It’s clear that whatever magic she used to split the sea back in Zudoh did a number on her.
“Why didn’t you tell me that one of the curses you sensed on Keel Haul was from me?”
Vataea puckers her lips and answers easily, “It felt ancient. I didn’t think you should have to worry over something beyond your control.”
I sigh. She was trying to be kind, then. “Well, what about this new one? Surely I have to be cursed to something nearby, because I don’t feel ill. Can you sense it?”
She shakes her head, fists tightening at her sides as if angry about it. “I’ve tried. Mermaids can’t see curse magic, we sense it; it’s a skill my kind developed centuries ago, to protect ourselves from early poachers. Makes my gills all prickly.” She points to the scars on her neck. “Yours is making everything prickly. I don’t know if it’s because it’s so fresh, but your curse feels like it’s surrounding me. Like it’s in the very air around us.”
I lift my chin to Keel Haul’s mast. Kaven was so far from this ship, and yet … Could it be Keel Haul that my soul is attached to, after all? If Vataea feels the curse all around her, that’s the only thing that makes sense.
“We’re going to figure it out,” Bastian offers, drawing my attention forward again. “Remember, Kaven has to keep your blood in order for the curse to exist. When we face him again, we’ll find where he’s kept it and destroy it. You’ll have your magic back.”
I nod and wait for the familiar heat of my magic to warm my skin and agree with this plan. But it never comes.
“Set sail straight for Arida, then,” I tell Bastian. “Full speed ahead. We’ve magic to collect.”
And the entire kingdom of Visidia to protect.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The sea quivers as thunderclaps explode from the sky.
Arida is a smudge in the near distance, veiled in rain and billowing gray mist that blooms from the water and lightens into milky wisps the farther it lifts.
I stand at the edge of the bow, Bastian at my side as harsh wind snarls at my clothes and lashes at my soaked curls. His hand rests over mine; the only warmth to be found. The sharp air has sunk into my bones and numbed my core.
Bastian’s careful not to touch the cuts in my palm as he curls his fingers around my hand. He squeezes it, just once. A soft pulse to remind me that he’s there.
I allow my fingers to do the same, lacing around his so I might draw some of his strength. I search again for the familiar thrumming of magic in my body, but inside I remain hollow. There’s not even a spark.
“Be careful.” The pirate has to lean close for me to hear his words. Even against the rain, the warmth of his breath prickles my ear. “I know I can’t stop you from fighting, but whatever you do, please be careful. I quite like having you in my crew.”
I draw back at the feeling of cool metal in my palms. My dagger.
“I think you’re ready to have this, again.” His smile is small, forced. “I hated having to take it away.” He carefully hands me Rukan, too. I revel in the tiny pulses of magic that whirl up the weapon and heat my hand.
I can still be strong. With Rukan, I can still fight.
“Thank you.” My voice is weaker than I want it to be, trembling with emotion I force myself to swallow down.
“Of course, Princess,” Bastian teases. “It’s not really my weapon of choice, anyway—”
“No, Bastian.” I sheathe the blade and take his hands in mine, squeezing them. “Thank you. For warning us about Kaven. For standing up against your own brother. For getting me off Zudoh. For you and Ferrick reminding me I still have a duty. For all of it.”
Both his hands close to encompass mine. He brings them up to his lips and kisses the tips of my fingers.
“Thank you,” he says, his eyes warm as his hands. “For believing in me. And just know, Amora, that no matter what happens today … I don’t want this to be where our journey ends.”
“Neither do I.” And I’m surprised to realize I mean it.
He lets go of my hands to cup my face instead, and draws my lips to his.
All our adventure. All my dreams of protecting my kingdom and family. It’s all led to this moment.
I’m closest to my old self when I’m with Bastian. Never has a man had such a hold on me, and never did I want one to. But I can’t deny that when I’m with him is the only time I’m calm. It’s the only time I feel ready to take on the challenges ahead of us.
I pull him tight, seeking solace in his lips. In the hands that graze my face and warm me from the sheets of rain and the air’s harsh bite. I hold him as close and as tightly as I can, a part of me wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever. To not have to show the kingdom and my people that I’ve failed them by losing my magic.
But there are too many lives at stake for me to be selfish.
It feels like hours pass before we pull away, and a smudge in the distance draws my attention.
Ahead of us, Arida is a hazy outline. The closer we get, the darker my home grows, and as I squint, I realize why.
The dark smudge of my island isn’t formed by clouds. It’s formed by the deep amethyst sails of ships that shroud Arida’s docks, and plumes of smoke from cannons. Fire devours the cliffsides, tearing its way through thickets of plants and trees. Destroying my beautiful home.
Kaven’s already here. We’ve no crew, and with Bastian’s broken curse, we were too slow.
“No!” My heart spasms and I jerk away from Bastian. I clutch the hilts of my daggers tight, trying not to stumble on my unsteady legs. He grabs my waist to steady me.
Behind the sails, on the shoreline, there are figures I can barely see. They move in a way that almost looks as though they’re dancing until they stumble to the ground or into the hungry ocean.
Bastian sets a hand on my shoulder, but I rip away from his grip.
“VATAEA!” I scream her name like I’m chanting to a god, and our eyes meet briefly before she whips her head to the water, knowing what must be done. She throws herself over the ship without hesitation, and hits the waves with a slap and a burst of golden light. Her tail fin smacks the water once, and then she’s gone.
“Drown them!” I yell as she races toward the shore. “Ask who they fight for, and drown anyone who stands against us!”
Zudoh has declared war, and Visidia’s survival is all that matters. No matter what I have to do to ensure it, my kingdom must remain standing.
The thunder and rain are ferociously loud, meaning Vataea will have to get close to the attackers in order to charm and lure them. I don’t need to worry about those on this ship being affected.
“Amora! Calm down, breathe.”
I grip the weapons so tightly at my sides that my palms threaten to rip back open. I ignore the voice, not caring to decipher which of the three boys it belongs to. A brief flash of Casem’s profile in my peripheral vision tells me he’s here, but I don’t see anyone. All I see is a world covered in the scarlet blood I’m about to pour.
“Go to the helm,” I growl at Bastian. “Get us to the docks.”
He doesn’t question me. He moves swiftly, and I step forward to squint at the scene unfolding before me.
Vataea’s made it. Figures on the shore become more distinct as we close in on them. They’ve stilled from their erratic movements and saunter toward the water, letting the churning sea swallow their bodies as they try to claw their way to Vataea and the glowing gold r
ing surrounding her. I don’t hear her song, but I know it works when I see men and women dunk their heads into the water she dives into.
They never resurface.
My shuddering breaths come a little easier. She’s clearing the shore for us, giving us time to move.
Keel Haul closes in on Arida. Once we’re past the reef, it’s as if the island desperately sucks us into it. The ship spasms and I grip the ledge tightly as we slam into the docks, scattering broken planks of wood into the sea.
Casem runs to anchor the ship while I dart for the ladder. I hold my steel dagger in my mouth and use my free hand to toss myself down, ignoring the sharp burn from the rope that sears into my already wounded palms.
There’s no time for trivial injuries. I glance over my shoulder to see Ferrick and Bastian hurriedly using a blade to cut strips of fabric from their shirts and stuff them into their ears to avoid hearing Vataea’s song. Casem’s a few paces behind them, but I don’t wait for him to catch up.
“Ferrick, help the wounded!” I yell, hoping he can understand what I’m trying to tell him.
Sand kicks up at my feet and gnaws at my ankles as I dart across the clearing shore toward the group of Aridians who have been fighting off the invasion. I don’t look to see if Ferrick listens.
Bodies lay littered across the ground in pools of blood the sand soaks in and feeds from. A palace guard I don’t recognize drags herself toward the sea on her stomach. Her legs have been severed and she’s bleeding out quickly, but Vataea’s song holds her tight as a lure.
Only a few men and women are left standing. I press a palm to my heart to steady its relief when I see Aunt Kalea’s among them, alive and holding her own with a sword in one bloodied hand. The other forms a fist.
There’s a girl charging her with a sword drawn and poised to attack. The girl’s eyes are gone, consumed by shadows, and blood trails in rivulets down her cheek. She’s blind with rage and magic, and Aunt Kalea looks ill. She wavers with her sword, rusty from years of forgotten training. When the girl strikes, Kalea barely manages to avoid the full force of the blade. She stumbles back, clutching her wounded arm with a grimace. Her hand is still fisted, carrying something I can’t see.
The girl raises her sword again, and my heart seizes. I run as fast as I can, but it’s not enough. I won’t reach her in time—I can’t protect her.
Just before the sword falls, Aunt Kalea tosses her weapon and drops to the sand. She twists out of reach, narrowly missing the blade, and tips her head back. With trembling hands, she drops a small bone into her mouth. It’s coated in blood.
I lunge to stop her, but it’s too late. She swallows the bone, and I stumble back like I’ve taken a fierce blow to the gut.
Her opponent’s sword clatters to the ground and the girl falls to the sand, screaming. The acid in my aunt’s stomach gnaws at the bone, destroying it inch by inch. The girl’s skin peels back and melts away as she claws at herself, trying to stop the pain and smack the rotting skin back into her body.
It will never work. The girl’s death will be a slow, painful one.
Aunt Kalea has forever bound herself to soul magic. This whole journey, and I couldn’t spare even one person from a life they never wanted to have.
She chokes on it as it etches itself into her soul, grabbing desperately for her throat. Her stomach. She lurches as if about to retch, her entire body shaking uncontrollably.
When I accepted soul magic, it was a vicious, monstrous thing that took hard work and Father’s help to tame. I was sick for weeks with the curse, just as Aunt Kalea will be.
May this magic be every bit the beast you are …
The group of Aridians behind her stir with panic as Aunt Kalea’s eyes roll to the back of her skull. When they spot me, it’s through blood that drips into their eyes. Some of them need medical attention immediately. I’m glad to see Ferrick tending to some of them in the distance, but we need to get more Suntosan healers here as soon as possible.
“Get her inside!” My voice cracks when I yell at the women, full of a thousand apologies I wish I had the time to say. But I’ve wasted too much time already. “All of you find a weapon and get somewhere safe!”
There’s a man in my path whom I don’t recognize. An enemy soldier dressed in white, whose iron spear reflects the flames that devour my home and glints a violent red. A small collection of leather bracelets smudged with blood sits on his wrist, and my rage burns white-hot.
This man has the same magic as Kaven. He’s one of the few who’s learned cursed soul magic, and I will not let him have anyone else’s blood.
I don’t falter. I continue my charge, leaving Aunt Kalea to the others. When the man tries to block my path, the pain and rage that has been building within me flares and bursts. I duck under the attack of his spear and stab my dagger deep into his abdomen, twisting it. The spear falls from his hand, and I draw back only to rip Rukan across his throat and watch the blood fall like freshly corked wine. He gargles on it, choking as I press forward.
More attackers block our path, but Casem’s arrows fly from behind me. They slice through the air too quickly to keep track of, hastened by his Valukan air magic, and he takes all four of them down before they can become a threat. Bastian covers me from behind as I tear Rukan cleanly through the neck of another woman who lunges for us. I hear her head thunk to the sand, followed by her body, but I don’t look back.
“Keep going!” Bastian yells. “We’ll cover you!”
I leave Ferrick behind with the wounded, never having planned to stop.
An earth-affinitied Valukan stands at the edge of the cliffside, sending giant boulders spiraling from the cliffs at two invading Kers attacking him. When he sees me, his eyes light with recognition and he grounds his feet in the dirt, crouching low. He makes a sweeping motion with his arms, and the mountain trembles and cracks, splitting down the middle as a makeshift staircase takes shape. It’s a direct path to the palace, only about a half mile up.
“Go!” he yells, grunting as one of the Kers attacks, moving too fast to avoid. The Valukan pulls the earth around him like a barrier, shielding himself. Before the Kers can follow, the Valukan tears his hand through the air and the beginning of the staircase collapses after us.
The Kers turn back to him, angry, but we can’t help him fight. We have to keep climbing.
This far from the shore, Casem and Bastian remove the fabric from their ears and toss the scraps to the ground. The rain has slicked the cliffside, and in our haste, I trip and slam my knee on the ground. Searing pain stabs through my thigh and up my spine until I see white.
Someone grabs me beneath the arms and hauls me back up. My leg tries to give out, but I grit down the pain and force myself forward.
The palace is in sight.
Just a little farther …
Pain tears through my shoulder, and I cry out. I turn to see a knife embedded in my skin. It drips with an oozing black liquid that spreads through my arm and forms a web of thin black lines over my shoulder. My attacker is a Zudian who has rushed us from the side of the palace and is drawing another throwing knife from their belt.
“Casem!” Bastian yells as I clutch my numbing arm into my chest. The next thing I hear is the familiar thump of a falling body as Casem shoots the attacker down. His shots never miss.
Bastian’s by my side within seconds. He snatches the bone dagger I took from the woman I killed in Zudoh and, without warning, grinds it into my shoulder. I scream out, gripping on to his soaked shirt and balling my fists into it.
I want to curse. I want to call him the most vicious names. But as he slices into my shoulder and draws blood from my arm, sensation trickles its way back into my fingertips. Slowly, but it’s something.
“You’re going to be fine,” he tells me, voice gruff as he rips at his cape and tears off a sliver of wet fabric, tying it firmly around my arm. I grimace against the pain, tears threatening to sting my eyes.
But we have to keep moving. Wi
th a searing knee and a numbing arm, I’m battered and magicless. But we’ve no other choice.
Supported by Bastian, I make my way through the doors of my home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The palace is empty. Likely evacuated, as most of the guards fighting for or against Arida are near the shore. Slick marble floors screech against our wet and muddied footsteps, telling us we do not belong here. Warning us to leave while we still have the chance.
I clutch Rukan close and slip out of Bastian’s hold. My body is ghostly, limbs tingling with the slow threat of increasing numbness. My legs tremble, and with every step agony stabs up my thigh from where I’ve shattered my knee. But still, I will walk.
Still, I will fight.
The screech of our footsteps echoes against the overly bright walls of the palace, filling the dense and soundless void. A pressure in my chest draws me forward and toward the throne room, where, somehow, I know Father waits.
I’m heavy with rain and crusted blood as I force myself up each sapphire step. I cling to the pearl railing, gritting my teeth against pain. Behind me, Casem and Bastian keep quiet, following the awful pace I’ve set. I’m halfway up the flight when an earsplitting scream shakes the walls. Behind me, Casem inhales a sharp breath.
“Mira,” is all he whispers before he pushes past me and bounds up the staircase at full speed. I curse my brittle knee and follow. Sweat layers my face and coats my neck from the effort.
I reel back when a black-robed Curmanan woman bounds out a door, followed by a Valukan royal soldier. They spin to face the three pursuers, two white-caped Zudians and a time-wielding Ker in deep amethyst.
In the back of my mind I remember something Father said long ago: Those who practice time magic make some of the finest soldiers. They’ll have their sword deep in the enemy’s gut before anyone can blink.
I know I need to help—to distract the Ker and slow them down as best as I can—but Bastian grabs my wrist when I try to step forward.
