by Adalyn Grace
“As Bastian got older though,” she continues, “we realized that smile of his could win him more than petty distraction; it could win him hearts. He started wooing girls from affluent families, and I think both of us started to realize that he no longer needed someone to help him alter his face. He knew how to use his own too well. He took whatever he could from Ikae, and left when there was nothing else for him. He stopped needing me, which sounds bad, but I wasn’t too upset.” She shrugs. “We never had what I’d call a true friendship; I don’t think Bastian knew how to have one of those. But working with him made me realize how much I enjoyed working with others, and that there could be success in numbers. So when he left, I found others who were living on the streets like we’d been, and I started the barracudas.”
“What about the money you said he owed you?” I press. “Back when we first met?”
“He used to stop by the lounge occasionally. One of those days, he stole my damned earring.” I’m surprised when she says it with a laugh. “Those pink diamond ones, from the night we first met. I never ended up selling them; I loved them too much. I still have one, but Bastian managed to steal the other that night.”
I recall seeing an earring like that last summer, back when I’d been working on creating Rukan at his desk. At the time I thought little of it, suspecting it was nothing more than a lost memento from a past relationship, or perhaps expensive jewels he was preparing to sell whenever he next had a chance.
Bastian wouldn’t have been against making friends. I know more than anyone how much he wanted to settle, but also how he didn’t believe he could. If he spent that long with Shanty, it wasn’t because he needed her or felt forced. It was because he wanted to make it work.
He cared for Shanty, which is likely not only why he took that earring, but also why he still has it. As a reminder, in case he never had the chance to see her again.
As much of that pirate charade as he puts on, Bastian’s a good man.
“Amora?” Vataea says again, her honey-rich voice warming my skin. “You all right?”
I start to wave her off, but as I go to lift my hand, something stops me. I trust Vataea to give me the truth more than I trust anyone. Mermaids, from what I’ve been able to tell, rarely lie. They’ve little sense to conceal the truth simply to spare someone’s feelings.
“Do you think that, without the curse, I’d be with Bastian right now?” The only way for me to get the words out is to force them quickly, not lingering to think about what I’m saying. “Do you think I love him?”
She stares me dead in the eyes, and without so much as blinking, says, “I think you already know the answer.” She continues past me without looking back, not realizing that I’ve lost my breath.
How can she be so sure?
“There’s no time for personal revelations.” Shanty knocks her hip against mine to get my attention and nods her head forward. “See that up there? On that merchant’s sleeve? She’s our mark.”
It takes me longer than I care to admit before I see what she’s referring to—a golden zolo leaf on the sleeve of the merchant’s long onyx robe.
“That’s the symbol we’re looking for?” Vataea asks, voicing my same skepticism. “Those leaves are on everything, here.”
“That’s the beauty of it.” Shanty’s voice is practically admiring. “Zolo leaves are known for having two veins down their center. You’ll notice that this symbol, however, only has one. The smartest way to hide something is by concealing it in plain sight.”
I blink, realizing she’s right. But without her there, I never would have noticed it.
The woman bearing the symbol smiles the same polite smile as the others, though hers doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Rosemary bread?” She doesn’t have a proper merchant booth. Instead, she sits against the trunk of a gnarled tree, a wooden basket of bread in front of her.
Shanty takes a loaf and lifts it to her nose. “Must be a hard business right now, given the competition. I think we’ve passed at least four bread stands so far.” From the corner of my eye, I notice Vataea slowly drawing back, positioning herself several paces to Shanty’s left. She nods to me, and I follow her lead by positioning myself opposite her, to Shanty’s right. Together we form a triangle to block the woman in against the tree.
“When you sell the best, visitors still come,” the merchant says.
“That’s a beautiful robe you have on. I love the embroidery.” Shanty takes a tentative bite, considering it for only a moment before she spits it onto the ground. “Yup, this is the one. What is that? Moonseed? Must be a mild dose, you can barely taste it over the rosemary. Is it supposed to be a light sedative?”
The merchant’s face drops, and with a heavy sigh she says, “You’re that girl everyone warned me about, aren’t you? The face-shifter? We’re not supposed to sell to you anymore.”
Shanty grins wide, as if pleased to have done something that warranted someone needing to be warned about her. “Good luck with that. Take us to your shop and make this easy, otherwise I’ll have to convince you. And you’ll find I can be incredibly persuasive.”
“You’re a thief. If you think we’re going to entertain you after you stole the entire—”
Shanty tuts her tongue. “Ah ah ah. Let’s not discuss the past when we’re in the present.” Her eyes flicker to me, then to the dagger at my hip, and she bounces a brow. I roll my eyes and draw Rukan, only because it’s the flashier of the two. I grip it tight in my palms, and the merchant’s throat bobs.
Shanty reaches for the weapon, and I begrudgingly hand it over. Immediately I feel naked, now without not only my magic, but also my next best source of protection. I try to steady my breaths as they sharpen, anxiety taking hold.
My vision begins to tunnel, but before I can spiral, I catch sight of Vataea. Her eyes bore into mine, and I try again to steady myself.
I try to think of her laugh, of her song that shifts the sea and steers our ship. Of the one I hear her singing on the bow as she sits above the figurehead late in the evening, when she thinks no one’s listening.
I don’t speak the language or understand their words, but I play the melody to myself in my head until my chest is no longer so tight, inflating with the full breaths I’m finally able to take. I lift my chin higher and stand taller, giving Vataea a small nod.
I’m okay.
She nods back, and though it’s clear from the tension in her shoulders that she doesn’t believe me, she leaves it alone.
“You’re familiar with poison,” Shanty casually tells the merchant as she brandishes Rukan, admiring the strange flecks of iridescent blue and the jagged, hooked navy tip. “Tell me, have you heard the legends of the Lusca? Did you know each of its tentacles has barbed hooks full of lethal poison unlike any other kind? It’s unlikely they’ll ever figure out an antidote; the only way to keep from dying is to cut off your infected limb, or drain your blood before the poison can spread too quickly. This blade is the barbed hook of the Lusca, because this woman here, our queen, bested it on the sea.” When Shanty tips her head toward me, having far too much fun with this, the merchant blanches. Her fingertips dig into the earth and she readies her feet, clearly preparing to flee.
“Just one slice of the pretty neck of yours, just one jab, and you’re as good as—”
The merchant jolts upright, but I’m ready for her. I lunge, knocking her feet out from under her in one swift kick. She hits the sandy grass face-first, and before she can push herself back up, I’m straddling her back with one hand wrapped around the hilt of my steel dagger. The other is fisted in her hair, pulling her face from the sand.
“Next time keep your speech shorter,” I grumble at Shanty, who makes a huffing noise under her breath.
“It takes a lot of work to come up with creative threats,” she sighs. “They ought to be appreciated.”
Heat prickles my neck, keeping me focused. My blood pounds, veins bursting with tiny jolts of eager energy. For the first time in
gods know how long, I feel alive. Though in the back of my mind I know it’s wrong—though I know I shouldn’t love the fight—I do.
I crave this feeling more than any other.
The merchant curses and tries to take a swipe at me with her long nails. One of them is tipped with thin, elegant metal that extends from her finger like a long, embellished fingernail. She scratches it against my trousers, and though she doesn’t break through the fabric, it begins to sizzle. Whatever poison is in the tip of that metallic finger burns, and I curse as it eats its way through my pants quickly, knowing that can only mean it’ll go through my skin, next.
I drop my hand from her hair and slide the dagger across my pants, tearing off the fabric before it can melt into my leg. The merchant tries to use my distraction to throw me off balance and escape, but Vataea has her foot pressed against the merchant’s neck before she can flee. Her golden eyes are nothing short of lethal.
“I’m starting to get hungry.” Vataea’s voice is pure frost. “Try that again, and I’ll skin you alive and filet you like a fish.”
“Ooh, good one, V,” Shanty chimes in. “Make sure to remember that one. We’ll have to use it again.”
Skin pale, the merchant stills. “You’re not human.”
“How kind of you to notice,” Vataea says. Her words are as barbed and lethal as those golden eyes. “Now if you value your heart, you’ll make this easy. My friends and I have some questions for you.” She removes her foot from the merchant’s neck, and I ease off the woman’s back enough for her to gather her breath and straighten.
“I’ll take you there,” the merchant rasps, rubbing her throat. “And I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just hurry, please, before someone else sees us.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Humidity clings to my skin as we journey into the jungle, venturing far past the marketplace and deep into the thicket of overgrown trees and lush flora. Buzzing insects swarm us, drawn by the sweetness of our sweat, and I bat them away with a steady stream of curses as they try to get a taste of my skin.
The deeper into the jungle we journey—and the wider my distance from Bastian grows—the heavier my limbs become as my curse settles into my bones.
“How much farther?” I demand as the merchant hesitates by a misshapen trunk, inspecting its bark. Squinting my eyes, I notice a tiny zolo leaf has been crudely carved onto it. The tension in my shoulders eases. The merchant isn’t misguiding us; she’s searching. In a jungle this massive, it’s impossible to tell anything apart. Wherever we’re going, it must be well hidden.
“We’re nearly there.”
To Shanty I ask, “How’d you find this place last time?”
“I’ve never been to the base before.” A mosquito takes a swipe at her neck and she smacks it dead, grimacing at the guts on her palm. “I glamoured myself to look like one of the merchants and stole their wares.” She grins when my brow arches. “A girl’s got to work, Amora. No one got hurt who didn’t deserve it.”
There’s a pang in my chest from my missing soul magic; what I wouldn’t give to take a peek into Shanty’s soul and see what it’s like in there.
As we travel deeper into the jungle, the canopy over us thickens, clotting the sky. No sunlight sneaks through the branches, making it impossible to decipher how long we’ve been out here or how close it may be to sunset. My heart gives an anxious squeeze and I turn to the merchant. “For your sake, you’d better hurry.”
While her footsteps hasten, the woman scowls. I drag myself after her, boots struggling to keep pace through the thick damp moss and overgrown weeds that reach out to ensnare us. Vataea, after perhaps her fourth time tripping over something, snarls and stabs her blade into the weeds.
“You know they’re inanimate, right?” Shanty asks casually. “That they’re not actually trying to hurt you?”
Regardless, Vataea spits at the ground. “The land is too cluttered. At least with the sea there’s empty space. You can see where you’re going.”
I shudder as I recall the time she brought me into the sea with her, so that we could get past Kaven’s barrier and onto Zudoh. The sea had felt vast, but it certainly hadn’t felt empty. Its depths held too many unknowns, things I couldn’t see but knew were watching.
Fortunately for Vataea, there’s not much longer to travel. The merchant raps her knuckles on the bark of another tree, and this time the three of us still when hollowness echoes back. The merchant digs her fingers into the gray bark and peels it back as if to open the tree.
“Stairs?” Vataea squints her eyes, keeping her blade drawn at her side as she approaches the merchant. Rukan held tightly in my own hand once more, I follow and peek down into the base of the tree. Sure enough, there are stairs built from the trunk, lowering into the roots of the tree and descending into the darkness of what appears to be a hollowed-out room.
It’s ingenious. A person could search forever and never find this place.
“I’ll go first,” I offer. “If she’s a mind speaker, there’s a chance we’ll have company down there.” Though I make a move to climb down the stairs, Vataea presses a hand to my chest to hold me back.
“You’re the queen,” she says simply, flat and factual. “You need to survive.”
Not about to take no for an answer, she steps before me and descends the stairs. I’m quick to follow her, with Shanty and the merchant tailing us.
“Try anything funny,” Shanty warns the woman in a deceptively pleasant voice, a thin knife pressed against her back as they walk, “and you’ll be dead before your next breath.”
The stairs are creaky makeshift boards of rotting wood atop earth, hardly stable. We take them slowly, weapons held at the ready despite the silence that waits for us.
The tunnel is a stifling blackness, so stagnant my lungs tighten and so dark that I test each of my footsteps before making them. Only when the stairs end and the floor levels out do my eyes adjust enough to make out the shape of a small wooden table and the oil lamp beside it. With practiced ease, the merchant lights the lamp, bathing the tight quarters in a dim amber glow.
No faces wait to attack us. No weapons are drawn, aside from our own, and no fights are imminent.
“They’re over there.” The merchant nods to a small room carved out in the corner, and I exchange a look with Vataea. Her knowing stare confirms my own suspicions—something here isn’t right. This is too easy.
“Don’t linger,” I tell her. “We need to hurry and get out.”
Vials of liquid poisons and cotton pouches stuffed with powders fill the walls, each of them labeled not with what’s in them, but what they do. My skin crawls as I realize there’s a tiny skull symbol on the label of more than half of them, and already I’m coming up with a hundred different ways in which I’d like to burn this place to the ground. To think that such a place could exist right under my nose.
Had Father known about any of this? After everything, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Just how long has the Montara family allowed this kingdom to destroy itself? With each passing day, it feels like my duty to repair it is getting that much harder.
“Someone tried to kill our queen.” Shanty skims the shelves, not bothering to be sly when she slips three different vials and two pouches of powders into her pockets, much to the merchant’s protest. I bite the inside of my cheek, hating that I wonder what she intends to use them for. Shanty’s proven nothing but helpful so far, and I pay her too well for her to be a threat to me.
Unless someone were to offer her more …
I hate that I think it, and yet Vataea watches the face-shifter as intently as I do. Her eyes are pinched, trying to decipher what, exactly, Shanty’s taking. The air around Shanty grows fuzzy as she paces, and I ignore the dull throbbing of my temples as the poison from last night acts up.
“We think someone snuck something into her food,” Shanty says. “It would need to have been something easily masked.”
The merchant snorts. “You think
someone would be able to do that at a party? To sneak something into her food, specifically? There’d be too many people. Too many risks. More people would be sick.”
Rukan’s weight is suddenly heavy in my hands. “If not in the food or wine, then what?”
“What were your symptoms?” The merchant examines the shelves, squinting at their labels in the dim light. Vataea keeps close to her, inspecting the vials with sour lips.
“I was throwing up blood, and everything felt like it was spinning. I woke up feeling like I hadn’t drunk water in a year, and last night, no matter what I ate, it wasn’t enough. By the end of the night, I couldn’t keep sense of what was happening. I passed out.”
“That rules out a bloodstream poison. The timing is too long for that, and you’re back on your feet too quickly.” She heads to a different shelf instead, still squinting. “It could have been an ingested poison, but … no. Too risky. It would’ve had to enter the body in another way. Perhaps—”
“Through the skin.” As soon as the words leave Shanty’s lips, my stomach drops with understanding.
My bath. Something was in the oils and the tonics I put in the water. The ones I breathed in through the bath’s steam, and soaked my body in.
The one Lady Ilia had prepared for me when I arrived on Curmana.
I hadn’t thought anything of it when I showed up to my room with the bath already drawn for me. I’m the queen, after all. That’s normal enough.
But it hadn’t been someone trying to make a strong first impression; someone was trying to kill me.
I grab hold of a shelf to steady myself, knocking into it so fiercely that one of the vials rolls off and topples onto the floor, shattering shards of glass dripping with fluorescent-yellow liquid.
The merchant shuffles through several more shelves until she makes a clucking noise with her tongue and draws a vial, having found what she was looking for.