All the Tides of Fate

by Adalyn Grace

  When they do fall, they do it delicately, landing noiselessly upon their feet with soft bows and satisfied smiles.

  We’re on our feet clapping within seconds, and Azami beams, hands clasped excitedly to her chest. “You liked it? Truly?”

  “Of course we did, it was incred—”

  “I have so many ideas!” Shanty interrupts, the words practically exploding from her. “I’ve never seen elemental and enchantment magic mixed like that, it’s brilliant! I think you should perform it at night. Make the colors brighter. And you can add music that syncs with what everyone is doing!” Though Azami’s face twists with surprise at first, she laughs as Shanty throws an arm over her shoulders excitedly. “You’re going to grow this, right? Monetize?”

  “That’s the plan. We’ll need to get better with enchantment magic, but it’s a start. We want to adapt with the changing times and show off that change doesn’t have to be scary.”

  No longer is my guard up as she turns to seek me out, so excited and relieved that I’ve no idea how I ever could have suspected she’d be capable of hurting me. “I want Valuka to feel like a place brimming with magic,” she says cautiously, as if hedging her bets against my input. “I want it to be a place where you can ride water horses or take off on the wind. I want there to be performances, and for it to be so beautiful that people want to come back again and again.”

  “It’s ingenious.” Shanty’s grin is so hungry and crooked I almost think to pull Azami away from her. But the up-and-coming adviser is too excited, grin so wide it threatens to break her face as she clutches onto Shanty’s arm happily.

  “This was all your idea?” I ask.

  Azami no longer appears shy when she answers. She squares her shoulders and bats away black strands of hair so she can look me straight in the eyes.

  “Visidia has been stagnant for ages,” she says confidently. “And many of its people are the same, afraid to embrace change and truly see what Visidia could be if we allowed the kingdom to prosper. You’re changing the foundation of this kingdom, and I believe in your mission. I believe in what you’re doing, and I want to be part of it.”

  The smile that comes with her words strikes me hard in the chest, filling an emptiness I hadn’t realized I’d been sitting with.

  “I want to help you mold a new Visidia,” she says, voice as smooth and as confident as rain. “Together, I believe we can reshape our kingdom for the better.”

  And to my surprise, I believe her.

  “Azami Bargas,” I tell her, “I believe you’re going to be one of the greatest advisers Visidia has ever seen.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Our first day on Valuka has only just begun.

  Men buzz excitedly around us, checking their hair and breath when they think I’m not looking. Unlike on Curmana, they do not wear their finest attire, but loose tunics and cotton pants—clothing that allows their movements to be as free and flexible as their magic calls for.

  “We wanted to be the ones who put on a performance for you,” Azami tells me. “Not the other way around. I know you’re here with a purpose, Amora, but I didn’t want you to have to feel like you were on display. I wanted everything to feel as natural as it could.”

  “Which I’m guessing is why you didn’t give me time to clean up?”

  Azami offers an apologetic smile. “You’re only going to sweat, anyway. I figured it’d be fun if you spent the day testing out magic with us. We can figure out your affinity!”

  It’s as though all the heat is zapped from the island at once, leaving me cold and tense. “I … thought people got to choose which element they practice?”

  She tucks sleek black hair behind her ears. “You can, of course. But usually people feel drawn toward one more than the others. You’ll know it when you feel it. Once you find yours, it consumes you. Like you were always meant to have it, and it was always part of you.” Azami grabs my hand; there’s no time to stop her as she leads me from the marshes and to more solid ground.

  “My affinity is to earth,” she announces as a handful of Valukan men approach, offering bows and their names as they settle in beside us.

  Normally Azami would be right; this would certainly be my preferred way to meet the people of each island—relaxed, and in their daily lives. But with half my soul missing, I can’t practice magic, no matter how much I may want to. The High Animancer is meant to be the strongest in the kingdom—what will my people think when they discover I cannot learn Valukan magic?

  She was right to say I’d be sweating—more than she could ever have imagined. My body’s numb, freezing, and yet beads of sweat slick my hairline, making me nauseous.

  “Start by grounding yourself to the earth,” offers a young man with rich suntanned skin and freckles dusted beneath green eyes. “Let it steady you. Feel its strength from your toes.” He draws a deep, exaggerated breath and waits for me to mimic it. “Do you feel it?”

  I curl my toes into the earth, waiting, but all I feel is the need to scrub my feet clean.

  I peer over at the others. Vataea has taken to sitting, dramatically declaring it’s too hot here and that we should toss her back into the sea before she shrivels away.

  Shanty, Ferrick, and Bastian all concentrate as well, trying their best despite the sweat glistening their skin. Within the hour, we discover that not even one of us has an affinity to earth. The Valukans pat our discouraged shoulders, and though Azami looks mildly disappointed, she remains upbeat.

  “It’s no matter,” she declares with the same determination I imagine helps her choreograph such spectacular shows. “We’ve got all day to find your affinity!”

  But we don’t find it at the swamps either, where a charming man guides us through the magic he tells us is like a dance—soft and flowing, or angry and precise. I recognize the lesson as the same one I’d seen the Valukan girl giving back on Kerost.

  Vataea picks it up quickly, impressing a group of starry-eyed Valukan men who clap for her. Only when they’re not looking do I see her lips moving in a quiet chant to the water, and I know it’s nothing more than her siren magic she’s tricking them with.

  Even though I’d love to be able to create my own water dragon to ride upon, it’s not until we get to a roaring bonfire that desire truly stirs within me. When I had my magic, I needed fire to use it. If I had the power to create that fire myself, gods, I would have been invincible.

  While we all stretch our hands toward the fire pit, trying to follow the instructions to calm our minds and reach within ourselves for the heat that’s meant to somehow be in our core, it’s Ferrick’s hands that ignite into flames. I jolt at his surprised gasp, and jealousy flares within me as tiny embers flicker up his arm.

  “Keep calm,” says one of the Valukans guiding us, taking Ferrick by the shoulders. “Breathe deeply. One must have a clear mind to control this magic. Concentrate on how it feels in your palms. Breathe, and let it go.”

  I breathe deeper, trying to do the same, hoping and praying for the magic to come. Hating that it’s not me who gets it, but heavy with guilt for my jealousy when the embers spark excitement in Ferrick’s eyes, opening a new world of possibilities for him.

  A tiny bead of blood starts to trail from his nose, but he wipes it away; even the difficulty of practicing a new magic doesn’t sway his excitement.

  My frustration and guilt only grow worse by the time we’re practicing the final affinity—air. Azami watches me with curious eyes, waiting expectantly, but it’s Bastian and Shanty who weave tendrils of it through their fingers, lifting leaves into their palms and laughing as they blow gusts of air into each other’s hair.

  Bastian’s grin brims with excitement, and from the emotions I feel swelling from within his soul, I understand why—by mastering wind magic, he’ll be able to help guide Keel Haul’s sails, possibly never needing a full crew. It’s brilliant, but I can’t help but feel as though he’s leaving me behind.

  They’re all leaving me behind.
>
  And why shouldn’t they? Ferrick and Bastian each practice three magics now, and I don’t have so much as one. My blood is directly responsible for the ruination of Visidia. My own people are trying to kill me.

  I’d leave me behind, too.

  “Didn’t you feel a spark with any of them?” Azami presses. “Maybe we missed it. If you need more time, I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind staying longer to help you learn.”

  Azami is genuine; I know this. Like the others, she believes I’m here to find Visidia a king, and she was at least kind enough to try to make meeting Valukan suitors as natural as possible for me by working with them. Nothing she’s doing is wrong. And yet the pressure in my chest is mounting, tearing its way through my body and leaving behind a poison that makes my chest so heavy I can barely breathe.

  There’s disappointment in the eyes of the Valukans. A lingering expectation that’s replaced their desire to win me over. Visidia’s High Animancer is meant to be the most powerful person in the kingdom, and they’ve just watched me fail.

  Seeing them look at me like that brings me back to the night of my birthday celebration, where my magic took me over in front of a crowd. The memory is an anchor upon my chest, sinking lower and lower until it shatters whatever armor I’ve built around myself. I clutch my stomach, my throat, trying to force air into my lungs as my ears ring with the memories of that night.

  She’ll destroy everything!

  She’s the one who should be executed! She’ll kill us all!

  Bastian’s head snaps up so that his eyes find mine quick as a lightning strike as my vision begins to tunnel in. He doesn’t need for me to tell him I need help before he’s at my side, hands squeezing my shoulders to let me know he’s there.

  Why am I doing this?

  So what if everyone thinks me weak for not being able to learn their magic? Why is that my fault?

  Why am I doing any of this?

  Why does it matter what Visidia thinks of me when I’m this close to holding the key to their fate? I could free soul magic for them. I could restore Visidia to what it was always meant to be, and finally tell them the truth. I could lead our kingdom into the future it was always meant to have.

  Or I could be selfish. I could have Father back, and with his revival, the pressures of the crown would no longer lie solely upon me. Mother would smile, again. I could hear his laugh, and show him Rukan. He and I could restore Visidia together, and I wouldn’t feel so alone.

  It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Visidia’s fate is in my hands, and I’ll do with it what I will. A queen doesn’t need to smile. She doesn’t need to play games.

  A queen needs to rule.

  “I won’t do this anymore.” The words don’t feel like my own. They’re a bitter whisper, quiet enough that Azami leans in.

  “Amora?”

  My knees buckle.

  “The party’s over.” Bastian’s voice is distant. “Everyone return to your homes, the queen will see you all tomorrow—”

  “No.” The moment the word leaves my mouth, I can breathe easier. The freedom of it brings a laugh bubbling to my throat. “No, I don’t think I will see them tomorrow. I think … I think I’m done.”

  Azami’s face goes ashen. Behind her, others stare dumbfounded. “Is something wrong, Your Majesty? I’m sure I can fix—”

  “You’ve been brilliant.” With each word, the pressure on my chest eases. With every breath, I feel a little more like myself. “I appreciate everything you’ve shown me, and everything you’re doing for Valuka. I’m sure every one of these men are wonderful, but I’ve worked too hard for this throne; I’ve sacrificed too much of myself for my people. No one, no matter how kind or wonderful they may be, will ever understand or be prepared to take on the burden of this crown, and I’m tired pretending that I would let them. Tell Lord Bargas to let the kingdom know I’m done with this charade.”

  On every island we’ve visited so far, I’ve lost too much time keeping up appearances. Twice, I’ve nearly died trying to persuade others to like me. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not, just to be accepted.

  I am Amora Montara, and I will no longer be a pawn. I will be a queen.

  * * *

  “It’s about time you stopped this charade,” Vataea tells me as we settle into our room that evening. “I was surprised it lasted this long.”

  Drawing a pillow over my head, I inhale the freshly laundered lavender scent deeply, doing everything in my power to disappear into it. While I’m glad for the freedom of no longer having to parade around with suitors, there will be a storm in the parchments tomorrow.

  But it doesn’t matter. I can’t let it matter. Come tomorrow, it’s time to find the godwoken and change the fate of Visidia one way or another.

  Only when added weight creaks the bed do I stir, peeling myself from the pillow long enough to see Vataea’s golden eyes boring into me.

  “Are you pitying yourself?” she asks so plainly that, for a moment, I’m reminded of how inhuman she truly is. “Or is this because you’re missing your father, again?”

  “I always miss him.” When I sit up, she follows my lead.

  “There are many whom I miss, too.” While she says it casually, something heavy burdens her shoulders, caving them in. Light flickers and dims within her eyes. For centuries mermaids have been poached, harvested for their scales and for the most abominable reasons. For someone who has lived as long as she has, I’m sure she bears the loss of many.

  “I know his reign was built on lies. And that he did everything he could to uphold them,” I say eventually, struggling to make my voice audible. “I know that. But … I’d give anything to see him again. Even if only for a moment.” I can’t say what causes it, but something within me splinters beneath her glowing stare. The emotions flood through me like a dam has been broken, pouring freely and all at once. “No matter what he’s done, he’s my father. I can’t help but feel that if he were here, he could help me fix this mess.”

  “You can’t undo centuries’ worth of lies in two seasons.” Vataea takes a firm hold on my shoulders. “You are doing your best, Amora. That’s enough. There are many I have lost, but I do not allow myself to become lost with them. They wouldn’t want us to pause our lives because their time is up. Grieve, but do not lose yourself to your mourning.”

  Her words are far easier said than done. As many people as she’s lost, she was never responsible for the pain—for the deaths—of so many.

  “The gods are cruel to have taken him from me.” My words feel pathetic, but I mean them with everything in me. So much so that I send each one at the gods like a punch, hoping they can feel every ounce of my rage with them. “I just wish they’d give him back.” Together, we could restore magic. Defeat Kaven. Spare so many lives.

  If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the look on Vataea’s face was pitying.

  “Even I know it’s unwise to curse your gods, Amora.” Vataea slips from my bed to crawl into her own, putting out the candle on her way. “You never know when they might be listening.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Someone’s watching me.

  I bolt upright in my bed, breathless.

  The only light in the room is from the moonlight that bleeds onto the floor from gaps in the drapes. I squint through its silver haze, yet all I see is Vataea sleeping soundly in the bed beside mine, her breathing heavy and undisturbed.

  Cautiously, I settle back into bed, confident it’s my nerves catching up with me as I try to find my breath. But I’m back on my feet the moment a shadow crosses my window, clutching Rukan and poised to wake Vataea when I hear the shadow laugh.

  It’s a booming, proud sound that rattles my lungs and nearly brings me to my knees. I’d recognize that laugh anywhere. But … it couldn’t be.

  “Father?” My voice comes hoarse and quiet, yet his laughter echoes again in response. It’s all I can do not to weep at the closeness of it.

  When Va
taea still doesn’t stir, I pinch my wrist hard, knowing this must be nothing more than the cruelest dream. My breath catches when the pinch stings, and I don’t wait another second before I throw a cape over my nightgown, steady Rukan’s sheath around me, and run. I escape through the house in a blur, the cool marble biting my bare feet.

  “Father!” I call again, louder once I’m away from sleeping ears. He laughs again, and this time I see what I know must be him—a blur of shadows and light sprinting across the terrain ahead.

  I don’t think. I just follow, moving farther and farther away from the house until the earth turns to little more than mountain and stone, pain creeping into my soles. I know with everything in me that this can’t be real. It’s a curse. A mirage. Something.

  But Father’s right there in front of me. He moves so quickly that, if I want to catch him, I can’t hesitate.

  “Wait for me,” I whisper after him, fists clenching as a stone digs into my heel. “Wait a second!”

  No sooner have the words passed my lips before a glowing figure emerges before me. A beast made from shimmering blue flames stands tall and proud. It’s taken the shape of a wolf, overly large and burning so fiercely I struggle not to shut my eyes against it.

  Its smoking paws stomp impatiently at the ground, a constant stream of fresh embers falling from its glowing fur. Orbs of white fire have taken over its eyes, and I find myself reaching for my dagger as they fix upon me.

  Spotting my movement, the beast snorts as smoke flares from its nostrils, as if trying to tell me not to bother. It’s not here to fight.

  “Will you take me to him?” I close the space between us and offer a tentative hand to its neck, sucking in a breath of surprise when the flames don’t so much as singe my skin. Forcefully, I work up the nerve to lift myself fully upon the beast, not wanting to stray too far behind Father.

  The moment I’m mounted, the wolf takes off in a sprint that rivals the wind, scattering blue embers in its wake. Only there, upon the back of this fiery beast, does my mind catch up to my body, warning me that I’m a fool for following it so easily. This wolf didn’t create itself, and it clearly knows where it’s going. But still, Father’s laugh was too real. Too close.