All the Tides of Fate

by Adalyn Grace

  And then, I’ll accept whatever punishment they see fit.

  “I, too, would like to discuss how these changes are affecting our individual islands,” says the Suntosan adviser, Lord Garrison. He’s a stout man with a thick red beard that conceals half his face from view. It’s meticulously styled every time I’ve seen him, and soft, too. Like he coats it in oil every night. “Some of us have traveled great lengths to be here. It’s only right that we get to address our concerns.”

  Mother’s reminder rings in my head—you’re not here to fight them. But gods, between his proud chin and assessing eyes, I can’t help myself. “I know our geography, Lord Garrison,” I say tersely, satisfied at the way his eyes narrow in surprise. “I’m very aware of how far you’ve traveled. I’m certainly happy to listen to everyone’s—”

  “In the past,” he says, rolling over my words as though I haven’t spoken, “King Audric would open these meetings with each of us presenting our own thoughts and needs for the islands we represent, rather than opening himself—”

  At the mention of Father, something in me snaps. Mother’s hand finds my knee beneath the table, squeezing it in warning. But her presence isn’t enough to prevent the malice that cracks my smile.

  Lord Garrison was always loyal to Father, but like the rest of the advisers, he was politely cold to me. Up until this past fall, I was hardly allowed any interaction with the advisers. Father held too many secrets; until I earned the title of heir to the throne, I was never allowed details of these meetings. It was purposeless and frustrating, especially now as I sit at the head of a room, meant to lead a group of advisers who hardly know me and whose trust they believe I’ve not yet earned.

  But they’re mistaken. I earned my place on this throne the moment I stabbed Kaven. I earned this seat with his blood and mine. I earned it with my magic, and the sacrifice of every life I took to get here.

  Trust be damned. I’ve earned this crown with my soul.

  “Thank you for letting me know how my father ran things. We all know he was a perfect ruler, never making a single mistake.” I straighten in my seat, pinning my eyes to Lord Garrison’s. “And considering how I was never allowed in those meetings, and that no one ever thought to include me, your information is very helpful. But I’d like to remind you, Lord Garrison, that my father is dead.” I don’t look away as he flinches, nor do I turn to Mother as her hand goes limp on my thigh. Instead, I keep my focus trained on the Suntosan adviser as he shifts with discomfort.

  When he opens his mouth to speak, I hold up my hand and continue. “However the late king used to rule doesn’t matter, because he’s no longer the one who sits on the throne; I am. I’m not sure if you felt it was okay to condescend to me because I’m a woman, because of my age, or simply because I’m new to this position and you felt the need to establish some sort of dominance you do not and will never have. But the next time you open your mouth to speak to me, remember that you’re talking to your queen. Do you understand?”

  From the corner of my eye, I catch Mornute’s adviser slack-jawed in their seat while the others look away in uncomfortable silence. Lord Garrison’s face turns scarlet, and I’m glad for his embarrassment. He deserves it.

  “I understand, Your Majesty,” he practically huffs, as if uncertain whether to be surprised or apologetic.

  “Good. Then I suppose we can continue with the discussion I’ve laid out?” I roll my shoulders back, making it a point to show that I’m relaxed, and not a tensed coil ready to spring again. “I am, of course, interested in discussing the aforementioned ‘changes,’ as well, as I suggested before your outburst. We can start with Leo.” Mornute’s adviser turns to me, and I smile once more, trying to ease their shock. Though most of the advisers are reserved, this one is still so new that they wear their expressions clearly on their face, and I like it. It makes me trust them more than most in this room.

  Leo jolts to attention and grabs the parchment before them, rifling through it to gather their thoughts. “I want to discuss how the abolishment of this law will negatively impact our island. Our port town, Ikae, is the largest tourist destination in all Visidia, and is our most prominent source of income. We worry that if our magic makes its way to other islands, we’ll no longer be able to generate the same tourism we currently do. If anyone can make their town dazzling with enchantments, why will ours continue to be so appealing? I’m worried Mornute will be looking at a massive decrease in income due to this change.”

  Their worry is a legitimate one, but it’s one I’ve already considered. “You’re right that this law will change things,” I tell Leo. “But Visidia has been due for a change for some time. And as it evolves, we must focus on evolving with it. While you’re right that Mornute is primarily a tourist destination, I believe you’re overlooking the monetary value of its alcohol exports.” The glimmer of curiosity that sparks in Leo’s eyes tells me I’m right; this isn’t something they’ve deeply considered. “Mornute’s climate lends itself well to being one of the few areas that can grow the ingredients needed to make great ale and wine in massive quantities. You can focus on expanding production; if the tourism rate in other towns goes up, so will its alcohol consumption, and they’ll need to import spirits from somewhere. There will be more of a demand for your products than ever, and perhaps even greater revenue as well.

  “My suggestion to you is to get a head start on preparing for more alcohol sales,” I continue. “Expand the vineyards on the mountainsides. Plant more barley. And while you’re at it, consider developing a style of alcohol that’s unique to Ikae. Make enthusiasts come directly to the island if they want to experience it.”

  Leo sits on this for a moment before they grin at their parchment, jotting notes. “It’s certainly something to consider. I’ll take this idea back to the island and see what we can do with it.”

  I’m glad someone here is easy to communicate with. So long as Mornute can keep up with demand, it should never have to worry, and my idea seems to have put Leo at ease. The people of Mornute, especially those in the port city of Ikae, appreciate lavish lifestyles; I’m confident they’ll come up with plenty of other innovative ways to maintain that.

  I hadn’t realized I’d been so stiff and rigid in my chair until Mother’s hand drifts away. I relax, knowing it’s a sign of her approval. My response seems to appease several of the other advisers as well, all of whom had been sitting at the edge of their seats, anxious to see how I’d do.

  After the way I handled Lord Garrison, it takes most of the newer advisers time to work up the nerve to speak. But soon enough I settle into my confidence, appreciating the steady pattern of conversation we fall into. I relax into the conversation, stirring only when there’s a muffled shout at the double doors. I’m out of my seat, dagger in hand, when those doors are shoved open, much to the protest of the guards standing watch.

  But my fingers weaken on the hilt as I see that the one standing there at the threshold, slipping around Casem’s reach, is the last person on this island that I want to see right now.

  Bastian.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Standing at the door is the boy I’ve been avoiding for nearly a full season.

  The boy who holds the missing half of my soul.

  Dressed in sleek black pants and an iridescent opal shirt with the top several buttons left open, Bastian stands with a proud arrogance that makes him feel every bit the royal adviser he pretended to be the night we met. Hazel eyes catching mine, he brushes his hands across the dark stubble on his cheeks. The luster in his eyes is unmistakable.

  He’s frustratingly handsome, and the bastard knows it.

  Bastian strolls in without invitation, hesitating for only the briefest second at the sight of the polished, unscathed room. There’s a quick hitch in his jaw. Because of our curse, I feel the quick burst of terror in his chest that echoes within my own. Like me, he must be remembering the last night we were in this room, drowning in a river of Father’s blood. But he
has no choice but to right himself, pulling Ferrick’s discarded chair from the corner and dragging it to the table. Wood screeches against marble, but the sound doesn’t deter him even as the advisers grimace.

  I try to catch Bastian’s eye, but he doesn’t look at me even when he sits between me and Zale. Only then does he smile, so irritatingly charming that I want to reach out and use my nails to swipe it from his lips.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He offers a casual wave of his hand. “Please, continue. No need to pause on my account.”

  I press my hands into my lap so no one can see the nails digging in my palms as I ask him, “What are you doing?”

  Bastian still doesn’t look at me as he combs his fingers over coiffed hair and stares wistfully ahead. “I’m here for the meeting.”

  Every hair along my body bristles. “This meeting is for advisers only, Bastian.”

  “Oh, so you do remember my name. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken that I was beginning to wonder.” His own voice lowers, and the huskiness within it does strange things to my stomach. “And I can do whatever I want, Princess. I helped save this kingdom.”

  Princess. The nickname flares goose bumps across my skin.

  “Besides, what are you going to do?” He leans in, whispering the next part only to me. “Kick me off the island?”

  “You can’t make yourself an adviser,” Zale interrupts, eyes smiling despite the tension in her jaw. “But I would like to personally offer you a seat, Bastian. On behalf of Zudoh, we welcome your opinion.”

  It takes everything in me to relax my hands. Knowing better than to go against Zale, I ignore the smugness that eats Bastian’s lips as he untucks a quill from behind his ear, licks the tip, and sets several slips of parchment on the table. He winks when he catches me staring.

  Never has there been a time when I wanted to learn Curmanan mind speak more than this moment. If I practiced it, I’d be sure to tell Bastian exactly where he could shove that quill.

  “We’ve a long way to go to help Zudoh,” Zale continues, steering us swiftly back on track. “We’re progressing, but it’ll take time for our island to recover from the neglect.”

  “What about the water?” The smugness has left Bastian’s lips, and the sincerity that pulses within the words runs deep. Since Kaven’s death, the desire to restore Zudoh has nearly consumed him. Feeling his passion as potently as I feel my own, my anger wanes.

  “Valukans are helping clear out the water, making it more habitable for sea life after the toll of Kaven’s curse,” Zale answers. “It’ll take time for fish to reappear, but we’re already seeing improvement.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “Lord Bargas, we should discuss how best to divide the restoration efforts of the Valukans between Kerost and Zudoh…”

  We speak for hours, back and forth, sharing ideas and coming to terms with changes that need to be made. And though the meeting started off rocky, by the end of it I’m relaxed in my seat, having taken off my crown to better focus. Some of the advisers have fresh perspectives, while others are stubbornly set in their old ways. But there isn’t one of us who doesn’t want what’s best for our people. And despite his grand entrance, I’m surprised to find that everyone is receptive to Bastian. Loath as I am to admit it, his ideas are valuable, and the love he has for his home island is genuine.

  But as well as everything has gone so far, the challenge in Lord Garrison’s eyes is enough to warn me that it won’t all be so easy.

  “Leo,” he says casually when it’s his turn to speak. “I believe it’s time Her Majesty knew about the papers.”

  Leo’s eyes widen. Sharply, they turn to Lord Garrison. “I’ve already told you, the situation is handled.”

  But Lord Garrison ignores them, huffing into his beard as he reaches deep into the inner pockets of his emerald coat. Parchment crinkles beneath his calloused fingertips as he slams it onto the table before us. I reach forward and grab it.

  One of Ikae’s latest trends is parchment that’s been enchanted with moving images to show off the latest gossip and fashion. Vataea and my cousin Yuriel have been poring over them for weeks, but I’ve been too distracted to focus on what any of them have to say.

  Apparently, that was a significant mistake on my part.

  HER MAJESTY, AMORA MONTARA: QUEEN OF OUR KINGDOM, OR VISIDIA’S BIGGEST THREAT?

  Last summer, Queen Amora turned our kingdom on its head with the announcement that Visidians would no longer be forced to honor the centuries-old practice of using only a single magic.

  While some have long desired this change, many are skeptical. The announcement came only days after the death of the late King Audric, and after Queen Amora was forced to take the throne despite her previous failure to perform the duties necessary of an animancer. Though our queen claims the beast that has lived within the Montara bloodline for centuries—the reason behind our single-magic law—was vanquished in the same fight that killed King Audric and Kaven Altair, it’s difficult to overlook the convenient timing.

  From the moment our queen took the throne, the state of Visidia has been tumultuous to say the least. If the rapidly changing dynamics of magic aren’t enough to worry you, the shifting state of our kingdom should be. With Zudoh’s effort to rejoin the kingdom happening among threats of Kerost attempting to secede, one must wonder what Her Majesty is thinking with all these changes.

  Perhaps it’s because she’s a young woman, or perhaps it’s because no one is around to tame her, but whatever the reason, one thing is certain—our queen is destroying Visidia. And if something doesn’t change with her soon, I fear the worst is yet to come.

  There’s an accompanying picture of me from the day of my coronation, sitting before my people in the same scorched throne I sit in, now. Mother is placing the eel crown upon my head, and the people before me bow. I look stern and confident, shoulders back and chin held high.

  But I remember that moment, and if one were to look hard enough at the corners of my eyes and the furrow of my brows beneath the jaws of the eel, they would see fear.

  Fear that I wouldn’t be able to fix Visidia alone.

  Fear that my people would discover the truth of the Montaras, and kill me before I could even try.

  Not wanting to relive the memory, I draw my attention from the image and instead skim back to a single line, reading it repeatedly.

  Our queen is destroying Visidia.

  “Our people don’t trust you, Your Majesty.” The smugness in Lord Garrison’s voice is hardly enough to distract me from the anger that scalds my skin. “Ever since you failed to sufficiently perform soul magic during your performance last summer, they fear you’re unable to handle your magic.”

  Thank the gods my people don’t know that I can’t even use my magic at all right now. My curse prevents me from accessing my soul magic, given that half of my soul is cursed within Bastian.

  I am the High Animancer. The queen. If I cannot perform soul magic sufficiently, there’s little that would stop my people from ripping the crown from my head.

  Mother’s face screws tight as she reads over the parchment; I can practically see her biting her tongue. Even Bastian opens his mouth to protest, but words die uselessly at his lips as he reads it again.

  “What do you propose I do to change the kingdom’s perception of me?” I clench my hands against the arms of the chair and stare Lord Garrison dead in the eye. “Tell funnier jokes? Throw parties where the kingdom may dance and drink merrily? I didn’t just save Visidia from Kaven; I returned magic to this kingdom. And yet I need to be tamed?” I strike my fist upon the table. “For the sake of the gods, I am a queen!”

  When Lord Garrison straightens, resentment poisons my mouth and coats my tongue. I drag my fists away and onto my lap, hiding my scraped knuckles beneath the table.

  “You may have the title of a queen,” Lord Garrison says coolly, “but in the eyes of too many, you are still little more than a girl who fled her kingdom, who cannot b
e trusted with the power she wields.”

  I hate him for not losing his temper. But I hate him even more because, after everything I learned about the Montaras last summer, I know he speaks the truth. “What Visidia needs is stability. We can’t only throw hardships at our people and expect them to be comfortable with a mere promise that, one day, things might be better. They need to trust you. They need to feel like they still have not only a queen, but a protector.”

  I press my lips together and sink back into the chair. “I take it you have a solution in mind?”

  It’s as though no other adviser’s in the room when Lord Garrison looks at me, confident and calculated. “I propose we give Visidia a distraction; something for them to focus on while we working toward changing the foundation of our kingdom. I want to give them a reason to root for you.”

  The way he says it sends electricity flooding through my veins.

  “You’re the queen, now.” He savors each word. “Your duty is to your kingdom, and part of this duty is that you’ll be expected to continue the Montara lineage by providing the throne’s next heir as soon as possible. Because of this, you’ll need to take a husband.”

  Perhaps it’s because no one is around to tame her.

  I feel Bastian’s resentment spike, just as bitter as my own. But when he sets his hands on the table as though he’s about to stand, I kick his shin and fix him with a look that demands he remain seated. This isn’t his battle.

  “Technically I don’t need a husband to produce an heir,” I start, but Mother cuts me with a pointed look. I can’t help but notice she’s taken no stance against his suggestion. “What are your thoughts?” I ask her sharply.

  “I just want you to be safe,” she answers with every drop of the exhaustion that’s rattling my bones. “If a husband can settle our kingdom … it might be worth considering.”

  “So what,” Bastian growls, ignoring me when I knock my boot against his shin for the second time. “You want to marry her off? She’s your queen, not your pawn.”