by Adalyn Grace
“My people were right to never concern themselves with you humans.” She casts me a glance from over her shoulder. “I will not be anyone’s subject. I hope you find yourself again, but right now you’re lost, and I’ve been used enough for one lifetime.”
In that moment, Vataea is more human than I’ve ever seen her. There’s sorrow in the way her brows knit together before she slowly turns to the sea. And then she jumps.
The moment her body hits the water, my knees threaten to give out from beneath me. I buckle, breath caught in my throat, choking me.
In the distance, I watch as a rose gold fin lifts from the sea and smacks down upon it with a final goodbye before disappearing.
Just like that, Vataea’s gone.
I try not to look at Ferrick, but my body betrays me. His shoulders sag, body wilting into itself, and I force myself to turn away as grief crumples him.
“I’m sorry.” His words are barely a whisper for the wind. “She found the stone, and I had to tell her. I couldn’t lie to her anymore.”
“Why were you even in my cabin to begin with?” I rip my eyes toward him, and though his cheeks flush red and flustered, he doesn’t answer. “You should have let me be the one to tell her.” I can’t stop the way his words swim in my head.
I couldn’t lie to her. I couldn’t lie …
I hear the judgment in his tone. The disappointment. The warning of the godwoken, telling me that all must die.
The gray skies tunnel around me, their shadows reaching and consuming. I fall deeper and deeper into that tunnel, to where Father waits for me as I shut my eyes, not on his steed with his smile burning bright, but with his face trying to emerge from behind a swath of shadows. His hand is outstretched, waiting for me again.
Be brave, he’d told me. But what did that mean? No matter which choice I make, I would be losing someone I love. No matter what I do, I will lose Visidia by using the power of the godwoken.
“We’re not letting you disappear on us, again.” I barely hear Bastian’s voice through the fog of my brain and my muddled thoughts. It isn’t until he presses a hand to my shoulder and I feel him there, presence warming my body, that the fog dissipates and I’m able to focus on his words. “Come back to us, Amora.”
One of them drapes a coat over my shoulders, easing me down to the deck where we lean against the mast. Being here with nothing but the sea stretched endlessly before me and the briny air on my tongue is steadying. It grounds me enough that my fingers stop searching for the satchel they won’t find, and I lean back. I tip my head to the sky, and for a while the three of us sit like that. It isn’t until Ferrick brushes my boot with his that I stir to attention.
“I admit that I prefer the land,” he says, surprising me with the softness of his tone, “but there’s something about being out on the sea that can’t be replicated. It feels like we’re alone in the world; like it’s all ours. The sea, the stars, all of it. It feels like it’s ours to grab. I’ve always understood why you love this life so much.”
“You love it, too,” Bastian mumbles, keeping his eyes to the sky. “Don’t pretend.”
“I’ve gotten used to it. But it’s not the same for me. You two love the adventure of it. The being able to go wherever you want, and seeing whatever you’d like. I prefer the land. The stability—always knowing where everything is, and the routine of it all. But what I’ve loved is the time I’ve spent with you all. I didn’t have a crew like this back on Arida; I barely had friends, other than Casem. Spending these past two seasons with you all has … Well, it’s taught me a lot about myself. I feel like a different person from who I was before, and I can’t imagine never having been able to have that.”
They’re words that tear into me, melting my heart and ripping it apart with guilt. In our time on Keel Haul, Ferrick truly has grown into himself.
“I’m sorry for what I asked of you,” I whisper. “I’m sorry that she’s gone.”
“So am I.” He tips his head back to the sky, emptying his lungs. “But I have a feeling it’s not for good. Vataea processes emotions differently than we do, I think. She has every right to be mad, but I hope she’ll give us another chance.”
Carefully, I ease closer to Ferrick and rest my head on his shoulder. He bends too, so that his cheek sets against the top of my head.
“You know I will always love you.” He kisses the top of my hair, and my heart softens. “I will always be here for you, because you’re my best friend. But this decision you’re about to make affects so much more than just you. Talk to us.”
“The kingdom is crumbling.” My voice wavers. “It’s changing too quickly for everyone to keep up, and there’s nothing I can do to help it. People want me dead. How am I supposed to lead a kingdom that tries to poison me? Who wants me dead and gone? If I had my father here … he could help. The kingdom would feel safer.”
“Just because things are difficult right now, that doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. You’re trying to make up for centuries of mistreatment. It’s okay if it feels hard; it should feel hard. But you can do this, and we can help you.” Ferrick shows none of the anger I expect as I pull away to look at him, nor is there sympathy in his expression. Rather, there’s pity in those green eyes. He sets a gentle hand on my shoulder, willing me not to look away.
I brush it off me. “Don’t treat me like I’m a child,” I snap, though the moment the words are out, I wish I could bite them back. “I’m fine.”
“If you’re fine, tell me what you were thinking of doing with that scale,” he challenges. “Tell me you weren’t considering twisting time so far back that we’d have to do this all over again.”
I look away, saying nothing. Ferrick knows me far too well.
“You made me your adviser.” His voice is commanding. Powerful. “And some advising is exactly what you need. So suck it up and listen, because we’re stuck on a ship in the middle of the sea, and there’s nowhere else for you to go.” There’s an almost wild look in his eyes that tells me he’s determined to say his piece, and as the wind pushes against me, whipping my hair back and forcing my body to stay seated, it’s as though the gods themselves are demanding I listen. “The last thing you are is fine. Think of the ramifications if you do this. All your life you’ve wanted to rule this kingdom, Amora. So rule it. If you give up now, you’ll be no better than your ancestors.”
“I have thought of the ramifications! I’ve thought of everything.”
“Have you really? Then tell me what good can come from this decision. How will you be saving Visidia, by putting it back to how it was?”
I know this is a conversation I need. They’re thoughts that’ve been swirling in my head for so long, and I know I need to get them out. And yet I can’t help my defensiveness. Being confronted like this makes my skin prickle and my voice bitter. As much as I might think I want this conversation, the actuality of it is grating.
“If we can stop Kaven before he attacks Arida,” I offer, “we’ll be saving lives.”
“And you’ll also be destroying them.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “There’s no doubting that Visidia’s in a period of hardships, but before something can heal, it scabs. It gets ugly and painful, and you just want to skip ahead to the easy part where everything’s fine. But if you go back, you’ll be putting Vataea back in captivity. Kerost and Zudoh will go back to the struggle they were in before. And what if we take too long to get them stable again? How many lives might we lose, then? Do you remember every single soldier who was on Kaven’s side? Because if you don’t, and information slips, he can attack at a different time. Or he could reinforce the barrier around Zudoh and make it even harder to penetrate. It’s too risky. You’d be starting from square one, trying to convince your father that they’re worth our time to help.
“I loved King Audric, too.” Ferrick’s voice falls when he says it. “But he wasn’t that kind of man, and we need to stop pretending that he could have been. We can’t count on him to change h
is mind, and if he doesn’t, then how else will you ever help Visidia? You will single-handedly put this kingdom in more jeopardy than it’s in now.”
I try to resist them, but the words resonate. Even though I loved Father to my deepest core, he knew the truth. He could have stopped all the lies in in Visidia, but he didn’t. Back on the night of my birthday, Bastian gave him the chance to step up, but Father ignored it. I’d pressed for information, and he’d lied to my face.
Ferrick’s right—if I brought Father back, there’s no saying that I could make things go any differently. Even if I hadn’t failed my performance—even if I’d claimed my title as heir that night—Father had lied to me for too long. That’s the way he knew how to rule.
Visidia deserves better than him. It deserves better than either of us.
It is a cruel fate, but it is yours. And what you do with it will determine Visidia’s future forevermore. Remember that.
“The kingdom may be off-kilter, but you’re doing right by our people to let it run this course,” he says. “Look at Kerost, at how they’re thriving. The only reason they’ve been able to is because you sent Valukans to help them rebuild, so that they can learn to protect themselves and their homes. They’re better off than they’ve been in years because you made magic available for all.”
“Think of Zudoh,” Bastian interrupts, each word pressed firm with belief. “My people are finally part of the kingdom again. You’ve freed them from Kaven and sent soldiers to help them rebuild. Valuka was already in danger; giving them the use of multiple magics is going to do wonders for them.”
“What about what happened in Curmana?” I demand, because they’re only seeing half the picture. For everything good I’ve done, there are a million worse mistakes I’ve made. “People want me dead.”
Though I want my words to sway him, Ferrick is quick to shake his head. “It was one person, and Elias was power hungry,” he says. “He recognized a shifting climate and wanted to take advantage of it. He used you as an excuse, not a reason. I find it hard to believe that a man who wanted power as much as he did would never have tried something else, if the opportunity to go against you had never arisen. You can’t blame yourself for that. If anything, you helped Curmana’s people by discovering what was happening and bringing their struggles to light. The new laws you’ll create are only going to help protect them from harm.”
As much as he challenges me, I recognize this is why I asked him to be my adviser; even in times like this, he has the ability to be the most rational person I know. No matter how annoying it may be.
I clamp my teeth on the inner skin of my cheek, biting down as a rush of adrenaline courses through me. I can’t determine what, exactly, is causing it, because I feel everything. Pain. Confusion. Frustration. Guilt.
Somewhere within me, I know what Ferrick is saying is the truth. I know I should be listening. But with every word out of his mouth, I feel myself being pulled farther away from Father.
I flinch as Ferrick’s hand encompasses mine, warm and firm.
“I’ve lost a parent, too.” His words are tender, but they’re another knife twisting into my heart. “All of us have. I know it hurts. Losing my mother hurt more than any physical pain I’ve ever felt. I wish I could heal that feeling for you, Amora. I wish I could take away that pain, because I would do it for you in a heartbeat. But no one can give you that relief, and I’m sorry for it. I’m so, so sorry. But Bastian and I have been there. And we’re here for you. We’re not going anywhere.”
That’s all I can take. Everything swelling within me bubbles to the surface, and it can no longer be contained.
The tears come hot and fast as my chest rattles with breaths I can hardly take. I sink to the wood, and Ferrick is quick to follow, drawing me into his arms. I don’t know the words he says, but I feel him whisper them against my hair as he holds me close.
“I’m not ready,” I whisper into his shoulder, again and again like a prayer. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
At first, I’ve no idea if Ferrick responds, because all I can hear are my own sobs. All I see is Father’s body, bleeding and on fire, fading from me. The ghost of him reaches out, and my hand aches to reach back.
“He would want you to.” Ferrick’s voice cuts through the haze of smoke clouding my vision, and I falter. The hand I reach toward Father turns to lead, too heavy to keep up. Slowly, it begins to fall to my side. “He would want you to live the life you deserve.”
I stare at Father. At the hand he reaches out to me. I take a step toward him, and this time I don’t fall back. Bastian and Ferrick’s presence steadies me, and the smoke around him begins to take the form of his fiery steed.
Father’s eyes lift to mine, clear and warm and wonderful, and my chest burns as my hand falls back to my side. His lips curve, and he smiles.
I love you. I try to shout the words to him. To tell him everything I didn’t have the chance to say before. But all that comes out is, I don’t know how to do this without you.
Slowly, eyes never leaving mine, he lowers his hand. It’s as though all the daggers that have been stabbed through me these past several seasons twist at once, gutting me as I realize he’s not asking me to save him. He’s not reaching out to me. He’s been trying to say goodbye.
“You might not know now, but you’ll learn.” I don’t know where the voice comes from, but I hear it loud and clear. “Make this life everything it should be.”
The smoke is back, filling my lungs. It shrouds Father’s body once more, and he disappears entirely.
Whether this was another gift from the godwoken or entirely my own imagination, I can’t be sure. But what I do know is that Father is truly, finally, gone.
As the sea crashes back into view, and my eyes open, I find my sobs no longer come in gasps. My cheeks are still soaked with fresh tears, but I can breathe again.
Father’s smile lingers in my mind, his words echoing. Make this life everything it should be.
Finally, I know what that is. I know what I must do.
* * *
I sit on the bow late that night, legs dangling over the serpentine figurehead as I feed tiny slips of parchment into the water.
I’m sorry.
Please come back.
I am the worst human in the world, and you can tell me so as much as you want if you come back.
I drop slip after torn slip into the water, my heart as dark as the tides that pull them under. Vataea will probably never see these. She’s likely long gone by now. But still, I have to try something.
And so I scrawl my notes and toss in one after another, until there’s no parchment to be found and I’ve given all the apologies left in me.
Except for one.
Lifting my head to the sky, I shut my eyes and summon whatever remaining pieces of courage I can find.
Ferrick was right when he said that, here upon Keel Haul, it feels as though we’re alone in the world. Like the entire sea is ours for the taking. I imagine years of myself at the helm, my hands worn with calluses and skin warmed by the sun, sharing the telltale signs of a sailor that I’d spent years admiring on Father.
“I’m sorry for what I have to do.” I speak the words solely to the heavens. “I don’t know if it’s what you would have wanted, or what you would have done. But I hope that when you look upon me, it’s with pride. I know this is our path forward; this is how we’re going to make up for what we’ve done to our kingdom.”
No Suntosan is powerful enough to heal my pain. It’s in every inch of my body, shredding it apart and rebuilding, only to begin shredding anew. That shredding may never stop entirely, but one day, I hope it might slow.
“I love you.” I send my words to the gods so that they might deliver them to him. “But this is truly our goodbye.”
And as the sea breeze picks up around me, brushing across my skin and filling my lungs with the sea salt air, I know Father’s listening, and that this is his goodbye, too.
A WE
DDING? OR A ROYAL RUSE?
It appears that the search for Visidia’s future king has been called off nearly as suddenly as it began.
It’s been reported that on her first day visiting Valuka, Her Majesty Amora Montara suffered from what witnesses can only describe as a “complete and utter mental breakdown,” where she refused to participate in any of the island’s prearranged activities after being unable to find her Valukan affinity. Witnesses say that Her Majesty disappeared shortly after her outburst, and that they’ve not seen her since. Allegedly, both she and the ship she’s traveling on disappeared from the island in the middle of the night.
Despite our reaching out with our concern for the queen, Lord Bargas and up-and-coming adviser Azami Bargas both refused to provide any comments on the matter. Though the queen was to have remained in Valuka for several more days, little is known about Her Majesty’s current whereabouts.
Given the reports of the witnesses, we’re left with no choice but to form our own theories, of which we have a few:
Could Her Majesty’s outburst have anything to do with the tragic, early death of Curmana’s very own Elias Freebourne, who Amora was reportedly cozying up to several days prior?
Is it possible that Visidia’s future king has already been found?
Perhaps our queen has been scorned by rejection?
Or are we giving Her Majesty too much credit? Perhaps there is no obvious answer for her outburst other than teenage indecisiveness and lack of experience.
Whatever the reason, it looks like all we can do now is wait for Her Majesty to show up somewhere, and to explain herself once and for all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
This time as we approach Arida, it’s not to the cannon fire and smoke of an attack. It’s not the screams of my people as they fight for their lives.
This time, it’s with nothing but a set jaw and determination. This time, it’s with hope.