by Adalyn Grace
QUEEN AMORA AND LORD ELIAS FREEBOURNE—WE HEAR THERE’S SOMETHING IN CURMANA’S WATER. COULD IT BE LOVE?
Or, perhaps:
A LORD OR A PIRATE—COULD ONE OF THESE CHARMING BACHELORS BE OUR NEW KING?
Before my face can give away my anger, I peel myself from those thoughts, refocusing on the mission at hand.
“We had a family friend from here who would always rave about how wonderful Curmana is.” I make my voice light, as if recalling fond memories. “Are you familiar with the Rosenblathe family, by chance? Ornell Rosenblathe? He always told me about the food and spas, and that Curmana could make lying in a tub full of warm mud feel like the most luxurious thing ever. I’d love to see him while I’m here.”
Everything in my body seizes when Elias squints his eyes, forehead creasing as he scans his thoughts. Hope balloons, threatening to burst within me. I clench my fists tight and dip my nails into my palms to contain it.
But it deflates when Elias puckers his lips and sighs. “Sorry. I know it’s familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve heard it.”
I try not to let my disappointment show, left with no choice but to settle into our walk.
Curmana truly is another world. A wondrous, relaxing, beautiful world.
A group of tourists stretch themselves upon the sand, catching up on the latest parchments or tomes. Many wear giant hats and glasses to shade their eyes, while they cover their skin with loose pants and billowing tops. Curmanan workers in black linen use mind magic to float an assortment of goods around them, offering tourists food and drinks.
More tourists sit nestled comfortably beside a fire pit, while others in the distance relax upon flat cots, their bodies glistening as attendants massage oils into their skin and rest steaming stones upon their backs.
As relaxing as it may be, it’s difficult not to notice how quiet all of Curmana is. In a way it reminds me of when I first met Zale in her camp back on Zudoh. Only this silence isn’t made from fear. Because so many Curmanans use mind speak to communicate, the tourists have naturally followed their lead by keeping quiet. Even when they do speak aloud, their chatter is little more than a whisper.
“We could go in if you’d like,” Elias offers as he catches me admiring a beautiful stone hut with steam billowing from within. “It’s a building meant for meditation. It’s supposed to help detox your mind and soul. Some claim to even use it to try to communicate with the gods.”
I snort. “Like the gods would ever bother themselves with a human.”
He laughs. “We’ll pass on the steam room, then. No worries, there’s more to see.” Elias paves the way deeper into Curmana, steering us away from the docks.
My morning is spent being toted around while I’m forced to pretend my head isn’t pounding from the poison.
It’s not that my time with Elia is bad, but the more touristy destinations we visit, the more my thoughts wander to what a date here with Bastian might be like. If I let him show me around his home island, Zudoh, he’d never show me places meant for tourists. He’d show me the cavern he used to explore as a child, or the best vantage point on the island. And even if it took us two hours to reach, it would be worth it. He’d never show me the places anyone could find; he’d show me the places that held small pieces of his soul.
Even here on Curmana, I’m certain he’d have far more fascinating things to show me than a quaint lunch establishment I couldn’t eat at, or a journey through the various spas.
With Elias, I can’t help but wonder—where’s the fun on this island? Where’s the underbelly? The gossip and the secrets of the island that you have to dig through the surface to find?
Being with Bastian has spoiled me; anything less than that doesn’t even feel worth my time.
“That head of yours sure is up in those clouds,” Shanty whispers as she cranes her neck at the sky, squinting against the sun. “If we look hard enough, do you think we might be able to find it?”
Focus pulled back to the world around me, I roll my eyes despite her grin. “Ha ha, funny.”
A thicket of banana trees lies ahead in the distance, wildly overgrown with their large leaves hanging haphazardly. Beyond them, farther north, is a landscape so dense with flora that I can’t see even so much as a gap within it.
“Up there’s the marketplace,” Elias offers, following my gaze. “Most of the locals live out this way. We try our best to ensure the area by the water stays quiet to maintain the peace for the tourists. Many of the locals like to live farther out; they can be noisier, and the rules are less strict. It’s also closer to the marketplace, and any of the jobs that involve work in the jungle, like collecting herbs for Suntosan medicines.”
“And for poisons,” I grumble under my breath to Vataea, who straightens her shoulders and peers warily around us in response.
As the sand gives way to snaking roots and dead leaves that crunch beneath my boots, humble buildings take shape, marking what I know must be the edge of the market. At the base of it sits a small stone building decorated with moss and the leaves from hundreds of thick trees that loom over it. There’s a tiny painting of a teacup and billowing steam on a hanging wooden sign over the door.
“This is one of my favorite places on the island,” Elias says as he draws the creaking door open. “It’s private, too. I figured it might feel more…”
“Intimate” is the word he’s looking for, but my skin crawls at the idea of it.
All I hear are Bastian’s words banging around in my skull.
The woman I love.
The woman I love.
I love.
I take a deep breath and try to clear my mind.
No matter how mouthwatering the scent of baking honey bread wafting from the tea shop, I’m about to suggest to Elias that we find another plan when Ilia’s willowy, ice-spirit figure emerges from the store’s depths. Elias stiffens immediately, clearly as surprised as I am.
“Lee?” He squints at his sister. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Even her voice is sharp as an icicle, impaling me. “As we discussed, you’ve duties to uphold today. You should be in the woods now, helping the rest of the gatherers. There’s no time for … this.” She waves her bony hand between us, the sharpness of her cheekbones deepening her scowl.
Elias looks mutinous. “Amora’s only here for a few days—”
“I’m sure she’ll understand.” Ilia’s eyes blaze so fiercely that I nearly draw a step back. There’s something lethal in her eyes that wasn’t there yesterday. Immediately I find myself wondering if she’s angry I’m still here, today. If she’s angry that I survived.
It’s as though she’s disgusted by the idea of her brother anywhere near me. Even Vataea and Shanty are rigid at my side, ready to intervene.
“I understand perfectly,” I growl, suspicion itching at my skin. I could easily tell her to turn away and leave Elias and me, but even with the girls at my side it’s not worth the risk. I won’t put them into that situation when it’s avoidable.
“Perhaps we could reschedule for dinner?” Regret fills Elias’s voice. His shoulders slump, face apologetic.
“Perhaps,” I say, though I’m not looking at him. I stare back at Ilia’s pale, icy eyes as she holds her chin high and defiant, waiting for me to challenge her.
“I read the parchments this morning,” she says coolly. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Your Majesty. Feel free to explore our humble island to your heart’s content, but for now I must take Elias. I’m sure your chambermaids will be wonderful company.”
Though Vataea scowls, Ilia doesn’t see it. She turns instead to her brother, taking him by the arm and pulling him from me as though I’m diseased. She has him out the door within seconds, leaving the three of us in the middle of this small, empty tea shop. Only then do I notice the woman behind the counter, thin and elderly. Her eyes have rounded with surprise as we’ve caught her staring directly at me, looking as though she’s about to faint.<
br />
In a croaking, nervous voice, she asks, “Tea, Your Majesty?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“This might take a lot less time than I anticipated,” Ferrick says, assessing the marketplace that lines the road.
Late that afternoon, after several hours of entertaining the shop owner by pretending to drink her tea—all but Shanty, anyway, who claimed to be immune to most poisons and was able to happily sample everything—the marketplace has grown busier.
It’s built at the edge of the dense jungle, upon the meeting place of sand and root. While some merchants sell their wares from wooden huts, others lean against thick, gnarled trees. They use the canopy of leaves for shade, with their goods spread onto a blanket before them. But unlike Ikae’s marketplace, here there are no shouting merchants touting overpriced snapper or yelling about their daily goods. No one is selling fine gowns, or sampling ale from a street full of competing vendors.
Curmana’s marketplace, like the rest of the island, is so unsettlingly calm that I can’t shake the nerves that skitter down my spine. It’s not that people aren’t talking; there’s some chatter and laughter. Barter, even. But so many conversations are happening without words. I catch a couple locking eyes now and then, nodding along to something the other must silently be saying. A child runs, trying to play among the vendors. But before she can stray too far, her father uses levitation magic to lift the girl into the air and bring her back to his side. The girl does little more than blink, unsurprised, before darting away again.
If they’re having a conversation, they too have it in silence. And while I admire the privacy of the magic, there’s something odd about humans being so … still.
“This place is horrifying.” Bastian’s voice is a low rasp, trying his best not to be heard amid the eerie silence. The loudest sounds come from the insects in the trees behind us. “Are you sure we’re not trapped in a curse?”
This many silent bodies are more frightening than a curse could ever be, but I don’t tell him that. Since what he said to me back in my room, we haven’t so much as looked at each other.
From the corner of my eye I can barely glimpse the thick blond curls and the baby-blue eyes Shanty enchanted him with. He no longer has manicured stubble along his cheeks and jawline, but a full beard I can’t help but stare at. I’ve never kissed someone with a full beard before, and I’m annoyingly curious to know what it feels like.
Bastian isn’t the only one of us whose appearance has been altered with Shanty’s enchantments. She’s given herself flat brown hair and a meek appearance as to not make herself stand out. While she’s tried to conceal some of Vataea’s mermaid qualities, it hasn’t fully worked. Her scars are concealed, but anyone who looks at Vataea—with her now long auburn hair, rounded eyes, and full pink cheeks—would surely still wonder how one person could be so beautiful.
Ferrick and Casem appear to be twins, both sporting heavy onyx robes that match the inky blackness of their hair. Casem wears his short, while Ferrick’s is long enough to tie into a knot at the back of his neck. His long face has been broadened, and his shoulders made leaner. Though I haven’t seen myself in the mirror since Shanty altered our clothing and appearance outside the tea shop, there are loose red waves at my shoulders, and I know my face and body must be as cleverly disguised as everyone else’s.
“We draw too much attention as a group,” Bastian says. “It’s time to split up. It’ll be easier to find information that way. And if anything happens, Amora and I will be able to find each other.”
At least our curse has one good use, I suppose. No matter where Bastian is, I can sense him like a lighthouse in a moonless night.
“Just don’t go too far.” My hands wrap around my stomach at the memory of the white-hot pain that comes when one of us strays too far from the other.
“Everyone plan to meet back here by sunset.” Ferrick sets a hand over what I know must be the pommel of his sword, though it’s hidden by the thick fabric of his robe. His enchanted blue eyes catch mine, waiting for me to nod before he relaxes.
Bastian clasps Ferrick on one shoulder and Casem on the other. “Let’s get going. You three”—his eyes find mine for only the briefest second before he brushes hair from his face and turns away—“stay safe.”
Vataea sets a hand on her hip. “As if I’d let anything happen.”
And with that our group separates, diving farther into opposite ends of the marketplace. We pass several wooden huts that have been built into the trees along the jungle’s entrance, painted white to stand out against the canopy of leaves and monstrous curving tree trunks. Mostly they’re selling casual things, like spices for everyday cooking, medicines, or health elixirs. Shanty points to a bottle of wild carrot seed—a popular method to prevent pregnancy—and wags her brows at me teasingly.
“Focus,” I growl back, ignoring the heat that rises to my neck and chest.
Aside from the lack of voices, nothing about this place feels strange or dangerous, and yet Bastian’s words from last summer ring in my ears. Every town has an underbelly. You just need to know where to look.
“What are we meant to be looking for?” Vataea asks, batting gnats from her face.
I’m glad she asks, because while Shanty plods ahead, confident and determined, I’ve been trying to figure out the same thing.
“We’re looking for something obvious,” Shanty says, “but that’s not quite right.”
How helpful.
The longer we search, politely declining gentle offers of spices and elixirs, the clearer it becomes that I’m not the one in charge of this group. Far from meek girl she’s glamoured herself to look like, Shanty hunts through the stalls like a predator starved for prey. Vataea and I exchange a look as we watch her, neither one of us having any option but to follow her lead.
Shanty pretends to examine a cart full of produce; as she’s admiring a small melon with one hand, she slips a peach into her pocket with the other. Only when we’re out of sight does she retrieve it and take a bite, wiping at the juice that runs down her lips and chin.
“You do that just like Bastian.” I recall the deftness of his fingers. The clever way he can slip a coin from one hand to the other before there’s time to blink.
Shanty’s laugh is hearty and genuine before she takes another bite and says through it, “Who do you think taught him?”
Surprise has me nearly tripping over my own feet. It’s no secret that Bastian and Shanty knew each other in the past. When we first met, she’d told Bastian that he owed her money, which led me to believe it’d been a fleeting thing. I thought perhaps he’d spent a few days on Ikae and happened to run into her, or that he’d hired her for a job. But there’s more to it than that.
Shanty tosses the peach pit onto the sand. “It’s when we were kids, back before the barracudas even had a name. I’d left my home the season prior, and he’d been on that ship of his for about the same time.
“We met in the market,” she continues, rubbing her peach-dampened hands on her pants. “He was vying for some bread, and I was eyeing a pair of pink diamond earrings. I was hungry too, don’t get me wrong, but I thought Bastian used to think too small. Why go for the bread when you can go for something that could buy you a whole bakery? I didn’t have full control over my magic yet, but I’d learned from a young age how to alter my face enough to prevent anyone from recognizing me. After enchanting myself, I’d go into the stores and pretend to shop. Sometimes, when I had spare money, I actually would buy something, so they’d grow to trust one of my faces and not pay close attention when I got too close to the jewels.
“I’d spent a week trying to figure this shop out. I went there every day with a different face to see who was working, and figure out which shopkeeper would make the easiest mark. Every day Bastian was there too, roaming the streets, stealing small things like pastries and fruit. I didn’t think he’d ever noticed me; I was used to being the one who did the watching, since no one was ever able to reco
gnize me. Except, one day, Bastian did.” Shanty shakes her head when she says it, a smile playing on her lips.
“The second I finally got those earrings, I booked it back to where I was staying—I think it was some shack that’d been out of business and was having a difficult time being sold. I didn’t think I’d been followed, and yet there was Bastian. He showed up at my place to tell me he’d seen me use magic to enchant my face back on that first night, and that he’d known it was me ever since. While I’d been watching him, thinking him so silly for going after such trivial objects, he was the one who’d been in it for the long con. He knew I had the earrings, and had seen what I could do. If he wanted to, he could have told the authorities and been rewarded for it. Those earrings weren’t the first pair of jewels I’d stolen; shops were complaining about theft, and soldiers were cracking down to try to catch me. He knew this, I’m sure, but when I asked if he was going to turn me in, he laughed and said not if we partnered up. Clever bastard. I didn’t have any choice. I tried to give him the slip a few times at first, but he always managed to find me again. He was far more precocious than he let on.”
It takes me a moment to realize I’m smiling, and I try to smother it before either of the girls can see it. The Bastian from her stories sounds exactly like the pirate I first fell for.
“What happened?” It’s Vataea who asks, keeping her melodic voice low in public. “Why did the two of you separate?” I’m curious too, and Shanty notices.
“It was never anything romantic, if that was your impression. Men aren’t my thing. Bastian and I had a business partnership for a while, but he never settled on Ikae the same way I did. He left every night to sleep on his ship, and returned early the next morning ready to work. He kept a lot of secrets, but it worked because I did, too. Neither of us ever pressed each other for answers; having a partner was too beneficial, and I imagine we didn’t want to ruin it. Stealing by myself worked, but there’s so much more to be done with two people. One of us could be the distraction, the other a thief. We started stealing not just small jewels, but also weapons. Expensive clothing. Everything.