All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) (30 page)

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 ring 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. With 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.

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.

He pulls me back the moment the Ker touches the shoulders of one of her Zudian partners—a male whose movements speed up dramatically. I can barely keep up with the strikes of the Zudian’s blade, but fortunately the Curmanan is prepared for them.

She ducks and falls back, using levitation to tear her opponent’s sword from his hands. The Zudian lunges in a quick counterattack, so fast that his body is a blur thanks to the aid of his companion’s magic. But the Curmanan has reversed the sword in the air, so the tainted black tip points toward the Zudian.

She pushes her hands forward, and because the man is moving too quickly to stop himself, he falls with a yelp as the
sword pierces through his chest, body spasming as thick lines of poison lick their way across his skin and paint it gray.

Meanwhile, the Valukan man runs his hands through one of the torches that lights the hall, now wielding its flame in his grasp. When the remaining attackers strike, the Valukan shoves the fire into their opponents’ chests.

“They’ve got it handled,” Bastian says. “Let’s keep moving.”

We bound around the fight and head into the washing room, where several Valukans with the affinity for water stand ready beside the basins. My breath hitches when I see Mother is among them.

Rarely have I seen her use her Valukan magic offensively; she’s never had a reason to. Yet when the Valukans see us approach, water lashes around Mother like a hungry, fierce weapon. I reel back at the vicious tides, cursing the pain in my knee. Only when she sees my face does Mother suck in a breath, the water slamming back down into the basin.

“Amora!” She rushes forward and throws her arms around me tightly. I grit my teeth against the pain her touch elicits, and bury my face in her thick curls as she drags me into her. “You’re safe.” Her body trembles with the sobs she’s holding in, trying to keep strong for the others. “By the gods, you’re safe.”

I clutch her tightly, breathing a sigh of relief into her neck. She smells of blood and brine, and her touch is as desperate as mine. I have to force myself to pull away; she doesn’t want to let go, and I wish I didn’t have to.

“You need to get to the safe room,” I tell her as I draw back. “Take as many with you as you can, but don’t try to fight unless you have to. You need to go hide—”

“Princess?” a voice says weakly.

My knees nearly crumble as I turn to see Mira, who lies against one of the basins with a white-knuckled hand clutching the corner of it. A Suntosan healer in an emerald robe is on
his knees beside her, his hands covered with blood as he presses them against her stomach. I know Ferrick’s busy helping those who fought on the beach, but I immediately wish him here to help her. I can barely breathe when I look at her.

She’s been stabbed, as have several other servants who lie beside her. One of them doesn’t move.

Casem is on his knees beside Mira, cradling her head in his hands. Her skin sheens with sweat, and the Suntosan healing her wears a grim expression of tight lips and worried brows.

“The throne room,” Mira whispers feebly. Her eyes are glazed when she tries to look at me, and it nearly kills me. She touches the healer’s hand and shakily points to me. “Her knee.”

“Touch my knee and you’ll be sorry,” I snarl when the healer makes a move toward me. Mira opens her mouth to protest, but I fix the healer in a firm glare and nod back to Mira. “You heal her. Now.”

The light in Mira’s eyes is dimming, and I won’t let her die. My injuries are bad, but they’re not life-threatening. I can still move. I can still fight.

When I turn to her, Mother’s lips press together. Her eyes are wet, and their emotion betrays her. She doesn’t want me to go, but we both know there’s no choice. As far as she knows, I still have my magic.

“They have your father,” she says, her words tight. “Go, Amora. Hurry. I’ll get as many as I can to safety.”

I nod, but no matter how quickly I need to go, I struggle to pull my eyes away from the thin veil of sweat that sits atop Mira’s skin and pools in the tiny crevice below her collarbone. The fear that knits Mother’s brows and her shaking hands nearly destroy me.

What have my people had to suffer, because I could not stop this attack back in Zudoh?

When I face Kaven again, I won’t make the same mistake twice.

I turn so the healer can focus on Mira, and kiss Mother’s cheek.

“Protect them,” I tell her. “And stay safe, no matter what that takes. I’ll be back soon.”

I can’t linger any longer. I drag Bastian behind me and snatch a torch from its holder on the wall, leaving Mira with Casem and my mother.

We ascend the staircase to the highest level, panting and exhausted, but never stopping. Not until we reach the ornate gold doors that lead into the throne room and hear the clap of an explosion behind it. The ground shakes from the impact and I grab hold of Bastian’s shoulder to stabilize myself. My shoulder seizes from the pain of the movement, but I bury it down somewhere deep beneath my adrenaline to be dealt with later.

Magic. The only thing that could cause that big of an explosion is magic.

Bastian’s throat tightens as he swallows. His gaze slips to me, asking an unspoken question:
Are you ready?

I nod, and we throw the doors open.

Hot air welcomes us like death. My torch is unnecessary; the room is bathed in fire. Thank the gods for the rain outside, for it’s likely the only reason Arida is still standing.

Flames lick the walls and feed on the plush sapphire rug, burrowing into it and consuming it whole. My throat aches, struggling to find oxygen that’s been stolen by the ravenous fire. The windowless back wall is the only reason we can still breathe.

Father’s positioned in the corner, and relief floods through me when I see he’s still alive. His broad chest heaves with gasps, and one side of his face is stained crimson from the blood that
spills from a profound gash on his forehead. His trembling hands wrap around a handful of bones, and when he spots me at the entrance, his chest caves. His head shakes furiously.

“LEAVE!” he yells, voice desperate.

I refuse. Wielding both daggers in either hand, I charge inside.

Kaven’s shirt is stuck to his bloodied chest, telling me Father’s put up a good fight. His dark eyes are rimmed with silver sharp as steel when he whirls to me. In place of the arm I took from him, he has bandages wrapped tight at the stub of his elbow.

“Have you come to see the king atone for his sins?” The question snakes its way through my skin and makes me shudder. “Poor little Montaras, so focused on being stronger than everyone else. Always so worried about being overthrown. For centuries you’ve put yourselves ahead of your people, destroying our homes and hoarding magic. That ends tonight.”

Kaven holds his sword by the blade. It slices into his palm and blood coats the metal quickly. But it’s Father who screams as his palms peel open, bleeding. I stand frozen, numb.

As Bastian was anchored to
Keel Haul
, Kaven’s cursed my father to be anchored to him.

It’s for protection; without the cursed bands I destroyed, his power’s been weakened. By binding my father to him, Kaven’s guaranteed I’ll never touch him; killing him would mean destroying Father’s soul.

The pain in Father’s scream spears through me, but I force it away to focus. Kaven’s magic may be strong, but it’s not limitless. I summon my strength and brandish my daggers, closing the space between myself and Kaven. I eye his wrist for a bracelet—for his connection to my curse and Father’s—but his skin is bare.

Bastian shifts to my side, tense as he eyes his brother. He
grips his pommel tight. “We’re going to do this,” he whispers, more to himself than to me. “We’re going to end this.”

“We’re not going to do a thing until we break his connection to my father,” I tell him. “I need you to stall.”

He nods as Kaven turns to us and spits blood onto the floor. “Hello again, little brother.” His teeth gleam red. “How’s the new curse treating you?”

Bastian falters, forehead wrinkling. But when Kaven grins, Bastian shakes it off and points his sword ahead of him.

“There’s still time to back down, Kaven,” Bastian says, his grip firm and sword unwavering. “No one else has to die.”

His brother shakes his head, half of his face shadowed by the flames. “I’ve come too far to let it end here. Visidia deserves better than a monarchy of liars and thieves. You’re the one who still has time to back down; we can end the Montaras together, and share this magic with all. No more laws. No more division.”

My hands shake as I clench Rukan tight, though I know I can’t bring myself to use the blade. Not while Kaven still uses Father as his shield.

Bastian steps in front of me, putting himself between me and his brother. “Get your father out of here.”

Kaven’s lips flatten as his silver eyes narrow. “That’s your decision, then? After everything the Montaras did to us, you choose to protect her?”

“She’s more than her blood,” Bastian growls. “And I am more than mine. You’re the reason our parents are dead, Kaven. You’re the reason our home is destroyed. I spent years dreaming that things could return to normal one day, and that you might realize your mistakes and put an end to this chaos. But you killed that dream, and buried it deep as those whose blood you’ve spilled. It’s time we end this.”

Bastian strikes.