All the Tides of Fate

by Adalyn Grace

  “Attendants?” Vataea starts to protest, but Shanty nudges her swiftly.

  “After you see the perks you’re about to get, V, you’re not going to care what they call you,” she whispers.

  Half distracted by the chattering around me, I turn back to Ilia and nod, trying not to look as eager as I feel at the idea of not only having a few nights away from sharing a small cabin, but also being at one of the spas my cousin Yuriel and Aunt Kalea always raved about. “Will the festivities be held there, as well?”

  Nelly’s lips quirk, telling me I must have asked something funny.

  “Curmana prides itself on being as tranquil and relaxing as possible,” Ilia says curtly. “If you’ve been to Ikae, then you’ve seen their fast-paced lifestyle. They’re frivolous; everything is a party to them.” My tongue sharpens, ready to argue, but Ilia continues before I have the chance. “People who visit Ikae are looking specifically for a taste of that life. But people come here to relax. To feel as though every day is the length of three, and that there’s never any rush. Tourists come for a taste of our calm lifestyle—a chance to breathe. Our spas are our most sacred areas for this; we wouldn’t want to disturb that environment with a party. Our festivities will take place closer to the water, along the shoreline. Will these plans work for you, Your Majesty?” Her bright amber eyes flicker to me.

  More than anything, I wish I could drink myself silly and dance in the arms of a dozen handsome men, laughing and feeling more like myself than I have in ages. But it’s as they said—we’ve only three days on Curmana. I need to maximize my time to find Ornell.

  “The plan is perfect.” I smile despite the tiredness that weighs my bones. “Tonight will be wonderful. I’ll just need a few hours to prepare. I’d rather not smell like fish while meeting these people for the first time.”

  “Funny.” Bastian’s teasing tone takes me by surprise. Though I figured he’d still be mad about the ginnada, he’s smiling. “I must smell like fish all the time, then. But you’ve never had an issue with it before.”

  “I am a fish,” Vataea cuts in. At first her expression is flat, and we all still, wondering if we’ve offended her. But then her lips curl into a smirk. “I think people actually like it.”

  It’s jarring to find myself relaxing into everyone’s laughter, and doubly so when Bastian’s sends a white-hot fluttering through my body, making my breath hitch in my chest.

  Bastian catches my eye, and my heart stutters. Gods, the things this boy does to me.

  “It’s okay, Amora. I’m not mad.” His eyes warm beneath dark lashes, but I tear my attention away. It’s hardly fair that he can sense what I’m feeling so easily. I have to center myself as Ilia and Nelly escort us into the spa where we’ll be staying, pushing all thoughts of him away.

  The inside of the building is even more gorgeous than I could have imagined, built of natural gray stone and slate flooring interlaced with large pebbles. One wall is taken up entirely by the largest stone hearth I’ve ever seen, while the one across from it’s made from thick yellow moss, rich green leaves, and dark ivy that snakes into intricate patterns. Three small, gently flowing waterfalls trickle from beneath the leaves, and the soothing sound is amplified by the large space.

  “Is this the spa?” Ferrick asks skeptically, to which Nelly laughs.

  “This is just where to check in! The spas are farther back in the building.”

  My skin warms. Mission or not, I’ll be paying the spa a visit before I leave.

  The moment we reach our rooms, I realize we’re the only ones staying here. We have the entire floor to ourselves, and Ilia and Nelly are quick to leave us to explore our rooms, insisting there’s more to do before tonight’s party.

  “You have to try the baths,” Nelly says excitedly before the attendants take over for her, helping load our luggage into our suites. “There should already be one drawn up for you.”

  And sure enough, as I make my way across slabs of unfinished stone flooring, I find a perfectly heated bath waiting for me inside with a collection of herbs floating atop steaming water. Hints of lemongrass and sage lure me toward the deep stone tub, where tendrils of heat spiral and lick my skin as I lean forward to breathe the scents.

  Behind the bath is an iron wall of spice jars. Upon closer inspection, I find each of them has a tiny label written in elegant script, describing contents such as sandalwood or lavender. Rosemary and sea salt. There’s everything I could ever imagine and more—scented oils for your skin and hair. A bowl of warm, shimmering liquid that promises my curls will be glossier after using it. There are potions and tonics to scrub my skin clean and then replenish it again, and a wall lined with beauty products that sends my heart fluttering.

  There are jars of rouge in every shade I can imagine. Dozens of lip stains, and kohl for the eyes. There are brushes and hair accessories, and absolutely anything I could ever want. And if I were to somehow want for something that’s not here—as impossible as that feels—there’s a rope in the corner where I can tape a note with what I need—whether it be food, a drink, fresh water for the bath, fresh clothing, a stylist, anything—and pulling it will alert the staff.

  Stars, it’s no wonder my aunt and cousin frequented this place. I’d live like this forever if I could.

  Goose bumps roll up my bare skin as I step into the water, and there’s a brief moment where all thoughts of my curse and mission melt away. I am not a queen; I’m just Amora.

  And this, I could get used to.

  * * *

  I can’t fathom what silent creature must have delivered them while I was bathing, but as I return to my room there’s a collection of Curmanan outfits and jewelry laid out on the four-poster bed.

  They’re nothing like the extravagant gowns I’ve worn to parties in the past; rather than thicker material like crepe or chiffon, the garments are comfortable linen or feather-soft silk. There are none of the tightly structured tops I’m used to. Everything is fluid and elegant.

  While not outright lavish, the details built into the pieces are exquisite, from the intricate shoulder embellishments to the plunging neck and back lines. One satin dress has almost no fabric in the back at all, but golden gossamer threads that hold it together, shimmering like a dampened spiderweb.

  Apart from the dresses, I’ve also been provided pantsuits as an option, and am immediately drawn to one made from silk. The top is a deep inky black with delicate shoulder straps made entirely of small onyx gemstones, cropped above the navel. There’s a lightweight cape resting beside it, shimmering and so sheer that I wonder whether it’s meant to provide any warmth at all.

  I pull on the matching pants, cropped to my ankles. They billow out widely, so comfortable that I’m annoyed with Arida for not yet having adopted this style of fashion. As much as I love our tight, structured gowns, being able to eat without feeling as though I might suffocate will be a welcome reprieve.

  I’ve just slipped on jeweled sandals and have fastened my curls back into something I hope looks passably elegant, when there’s a sound at the door.

  “Five more minutes,” I say, figuring it must be Casem on the other side. “I still need to put on my jewelry.”

  But the sound comes again moments later, so quiet I barely hear it this time, and I realize it wasn’t a knock at all.

  Someone’s fiddling with the handle.

  Immediately my thoughts jerk to the two men who’d attacked me in Kerost. I sweep Rukan from its sheath on my bed and clutch the poisoned dagger tight at my side, hating how fast my heart races. I creep toward the door, every hair on my body raised and alert.

  I am Amora Montara, Queen of Visidia. Even without my magic, I can still fight. And with Rukan, all it takes is a cut deep enough for the blade’s poison to seep into the bloodstream to end someone’s life.

  The thought gives me the courage to throw the door open with my dagger held at the ready. But as I raise it into the air and prepare to strike, Bastian stumbles back, throwing himself
against the wall.

  “Stars!” He chokes on the word, voice three octaves higher. “I thought we’d gotten past the stabbing phase of our relationship!”

  Rukan turns to lead in my hands, and I sheathe the blade. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Considering our situation, I thought you would have felt me.” Righting himself, he smooths the wrinkles from his shirt with a grimace. “I know you’re not thrilled about our curse, but could you find a better solution than murdering me?”

  I ignore him, anger hot in my throat. “Were you spying on me?”

  “Of course not.” His eyes skim away, hands flexing at his sides. “I was just … Stars, I was putting a curse on your door, okay? After what happened in Kerost, I figured a little extra protection couldn’t hurt.”

  I nearly lose my breath at those words, skin warming. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? I’m fully capable of—”

  “Of protecting yourself?” He levels his face to mine. “Knowing you’d say that is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

  At first I throw my shoulders back, defensive. But then I see there’s blood on his finger, and a bead of it has been smeared onto the door’s handle. Though I want to be mad at him, there’s nothing to be angry at. In fact, more than anything, it’s embarrassment that makes my voice quiet and my cheeks hot.

  “Thank you,” I mutter, folding my arms around myself. “And … I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”

  He stills, nerves prickling the air. “You don’t need to be sorry. I should have known better.”

  “There was nothing to know, all right? Just … come in and get washed up.”

  Only then do I allow myself to fully look at him, and heat stretches up my neck. I’ve never seen him so polished. His shoulders are broad and his chest proud in a coat of rich onyx with shimmering gold buttons and trim. His hair has been smoothed back, and his warm golden-brown skin glows from the oils and creams. As he steps into the room, all I can think is that he looks like an entirely different man, handsome and self-assured.

  He looks like a noble.

  “Is that cedar?” I lean in and breathe the air around him, searching for the brine of the sea that belongs on his skin.

  “It’s vetiver, actually.” He holds his chin high, as if proud I’ve noticed. “It smells good, right?”

  I curl my nose. “It doesn’t smell like you.”

  As soon as the words are out, I want to shove them back into my throat and swallow hard. The surprise that flickers in Bastian’s eyes heats my skin so fiercely I fear I might burn to ashes right here and now.

  “Ah.” Bastian clucks his tongue, brow arching. “So you like the smell of fish.”

  Gods, even his smile looks different. Brighter. Sharper. More cunning. It beams at me, glinting with mischief that has my heart stuttering. I’ve always thought Bastian was handsome, but seeing him so cleaned up, dressed head to toe in a rich, velvety onyx, is doing things to my body I’d prefer it didn’t.

  This isn’t the Bastian I’m used to—the pirate with a crooked grin and mischief in his eyes.

  This is Bastian Altair, the eligible Visidian bachelor who is here to make his presence known.

  Unfortunately for me, it’s worked. My fingers ache with the desire to comb through that polished hair of his and make it wild again. To undo a button or two of his onyx shirt and see just how much of him glistens with oil.

  I’m glad for a moment to gather myself as he disappears into the wash room to wash his hands, though I lose myself again the moment he’s back.

  “Let me escort you tonight.” His declaration is cool water against my skin. I feel the anxious pulse of his soul, but he doesn’t show it. He holds out his arm, and I have to pull myself back when I instinctively reach for it, desperately wanting to touch him.

  “Jewels,” I choke, needing to distract myself. This isn’t the time to be having these feelings.

  “Jewels?” Bastian’s brows furrow, then steady when I point to my bed and the collection of jewelry laid upon it. “Ah. Right. I can wait out in the hall if you need some more time?”

  He starts to back away, and—though for the life of me I can’t understand why—I shake my head before he can get to the door. Bottom lip sucked tight between my teeth, my voice betrays me. “Stay. You can tell me what looks best on me.”

  “Everything looks best on you.” His smile burns bright with charm. When I say nothing, however, Bastian’s quick to wipe it away and take a seat at the edge of the bed, waiting.

  I run my fingers over the jewels, pretending to contemplate them for the distraction of it. But gods, all I can think about is how being so close to him warms the ice in my veins. I can’t stop thinking about how frustratingly handsome he looks in these clothes, but I’m also imagining what he looks like outside them. Not to mention, he’s on my bed.

  Maybe my feelings for Bastian are real. It’s as though, from the moment I first met him, his spirit has called directly to mine.

  I hope you give it your best shot with those boys, he’d challenged. Because you’re going to be sorely disappointed when you discover that not one of them is me.

  There isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t want to take off on Keel Haul and explore Visidia with Bastian at my side. I remember moments when I thought that Bastian could be it for me; that he understood my soul in a way no one else would ever be able to. But our curse has muddled those feelings.

  I very well might be in love with Bastian Altair. But until our curse is broken, I cannot trust myself to make that decision.

  It’s all I can do to force the thoughts away. To scoop the closest necklace and hold it up as if I’d been eyeing it all along.

  “This one?” I ask, only now seeing it’s an elegant silver chain with teardrop of black pearls and matching earrings.

  He takes the time to look them over, then nods as I fasten on the earrings—simple pearls that dangle from an onyx chain, understated and elegant. When I go to put the necklace on, however, Bastian watches me struggle with the clasp. Taking pity on my attempts, he stands.

  “Give it here.” He takes the delicate jewels in his broad, calloused hands. I shiver as they graze the back of my neck, and my lungs tighten until my breathing comes in quiet, short rasps.

  Bastian doesn’t appear to notice my struggling. He manages to clasp the necklace quickly and adjusts it so it sits straight.

  “There.” The huskiness in his voice does strange things to my stomach. “Beautiful.” But he’s not looking at the necklace, and his hands don’t move from my shoulders.

  Every part of me is simultaneously chilled with goose bumps and drowning in fire, my body igniting under his touch. Under his voice.

  I can’t take it for another second.

  I turn, and Bastian knows exactly what I want, because he wants it, too. His firm hands grip my shoulders and he pulls me into his body with every ounce of desire that roils through my own. I wrap my arms around his neck, hating myself for kissing him, and hating myself for ever considering otherwise. I back into the bed and drag him over me. I don’t have it in me to break our kiss and wince at a pair of earrings that dig into my back, but Bastian tries to sweep everything aside all the same.

  For fear of breaking this moment, neither of us says a word. One wrong word, one wrong breath, one wrong look, and it will all be over.

  His lips find the crook of my neck and I exhale a contented sigh as my body threatens to melt beneath the comforting weight of him. His lips trace delicate patterns against my skin at first, but the longer it lasts the greedier and more desperate we become. Kissing each other. Touching each other. Holding each other.

  But then he says, “Are you sure about this?” and we unravel. My skin burns while my lungs stretch and fill, breathing far easier than they do when he and I are apart. If I could curl into this bed with his skin against mine for an eternity, I would.

  I run my tongue over dry lips, trying t
o find the right words, though I’m not sure what I want. My willpower around Bastian is abysmal.

  “I get it.” He spares me from having to answer by being the first to speak. Gently his fingers glide through strands of hair that have fallen free from their coiffed style. He twirls a finger around one of my curls. “I may not have been cursed to a person, but I was cursed to Keel Haul, remember? As much as I love that ship, my curse made me resent it. I don’t want that for us.

  “I know what you’re feeling is terrifying,” he continues, shifting so that he’s more to my side than on top of me. “But we need to work together if we’re going to get through this, Amora.” The way my name sounds from his lips stokes a ravenous fire deep within me. “Whether you like it or not, I’m in this mess with you. You don’t have to put the weight of the world on your own shoulders. Let me carry some of it, too.”

  “That’s easier said than done.” I pull away from him, but he takes hold of my shoulder, pleading for my gaze. I don’t give it to him; if I do, I fear it might shatter me completely.

  “Maybe it’s easier for you,” he says. “But stars, I need help, too. Only unlike you, I’m not afraid to admit it. After everything that’s happened, sometimes it feels like the world’s going to crash down on me at any moment. But being with you steadies me. I know you’ve wanted space, and I tried my hardest to give that to you. But I can’t do it, because being apart doesn’t only hurt you. I’ve tried so hard to be there for you, and to give you time, but … I need someone to be there for me.”

  I can’t imagine the strength it must take to admit those words. But still, I can’t look at him. I clench my hands into the fabric of my pants.

  “You don’t have to love me.” His voice is gentler this time, so soft it’s little more than a whisper. “You don’t have to do anything. But we need each other right now, and we went through too much for our relationship to waver because of a curse that we’re going to fix, together.”