All the Stars and Teeth

by Adalyn Grace

  Bastian reaches for the ale and takes a long swig before sighing into the golden liquid. “Haven’t you any sense of adventure?” He eyes Ferrick from over the mug. “Any at all? Or was it all hiding in the tip of the pinkie finger I chopped off?”

  Ferrick bristles. I set one hand on his good arm as I reach for my mead with the other. It’s bright gold and crisp. When I lift it to my nose I’m nearly knocked back. The sweetness barely masks the intensity of the alcohol.

  “Ferrick’s right to be concerned,” I say. “You said we were here for information; to figure out a way to reach Zudoh. So why all these riddles?”

  Bastian runs a finger around the rim of his ale before taking another sip. “We are here to find a way to reach Zudoh. I’ve friends who can give us the information we need, but let’s just say they’re highly sought after, and not huge fans of staying in the same place for long. The riddles are for their benefit, not yours.” He lifts the ale to his lips again, but this time his eyes flicker up to look at me from above the rim. “I’m on your side, Princess. I’ve no magic, remember? I’m perfectly aware that you could kill me in a second flat if you chose to, and I quite like myself alive. All I want is Kaven gone.”

  “You’ve mentioned that,” I say. “But what I don’t understand is why the leader of a rebellion against Visidia would steal your magic. How are you involved in all of this?”

  Bastian sets his mug down but keeps one hand cupped around it. His lips are a tight line. “If you’re implying that I’m part of the rebellion…”

  Ferrick tenses beside me, but I shake my head. “If the rebellion wants to end the monarchy, they also want me dead. You’d have tried to kill me last night, or back in the prison when I was weaponless. And you never would have told me you were Zudian.”

  Ferrick looks as ill as he did back on Keel Haul. It’s clear he’s mentally processing the news as his forehead scrunches. “I’ve never met a Zudian before.”

  “And I’ve never met someone who could regrow a severed limb,” Bastian muses. “Alas, we both exist.”

  I lean back to take another petit cake, easing the tension. “I thought Zudians hated Visidians? My father told me they took issue with the way the Montaras ruled.”

  Bastian shakes his head. “Zudoh was banished because of Kaven. Because he wanted the throne to burn even back then. Most of my people have nothing to do with this; they’re only afraid of what Kaven will do to them if they bow to the crown.”

  “More afraid than of what my father will do to them if they don’t?” I ask, and a shadow passes over Bastian’s face.

  “King Audric is a vague threat—someone we only hear about, but rarely see. Kaven is the one who holds power over Zudoh. His magic is as strong as it is dangerous; he doesn’t focus on using it protectively, like the rest of us. Instead, he wields his magic like a weapon. I escaped from Zudoh when I saw the chance, but it wasn’t until after he stole my magic and took control of my home. Kaven’s the one people see, so he’s the one they fear. Not your father. The two can’t even be compared.”

  The cake is metal as I swallow it down, jagged and painful.

  “So … Zudoh doesn’t hate Visidia?” Ferrick leans back in his chair, arms folding across his chest.

  Bastian leans back as well, and lifts the ale to his lips. “If they do, it’s only because Visidia didn’t step in to stop Kaven earlier. Without him, Zudoh would be thriving. But he’s the reason we’ve been cut off from trade. From travel.”

  They have every right to their anger. A person’s magic is part of their being. If Father truly knew there was a man out there who had somehow learned to steal it, wouldn’t he have stopped them? Why would he ignore it?

  “We’ll put a stop to him swiftly,” I affirm, taking a long sip of my mead. “Before his reach stretches any further in my kingdom.”

  Bastian’s quiet for a moment, then eventually lifts his drink to mine. “I’ll drink to that.” He nods expectantly to the ale before Ferrick, as well.

  Ferrick sighs and relents to it. I’ve never seen him drink, but he downs half the mug in two gulps before setting it back on the table. “I’m not okay with this,” he points out, “but I’ll do what I can to help.”

  “Good.” Bastian fishes a pink pearl from his pocket and tosses it into the cup before the accordion. The instrument dips as if bowing, not missing a note. “Then drink up, everyone. We’ve at least another hour to kill, and then it’s time to catch some barracudas.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  By the time we’re done with the tavern, I’ve polished off my mead and five petit cakes. Bastian never showed hesitation in ordering for me, though it’s unclear if he can actually afford my meal, as well as the six pints he and Ferrick polished off.

  Bastian excused himself to the bathroom minutes ago, and upon his return I notice a small leather pouch newly tied to his belt. It jingles as he walks.

  “Time to go.” He places three silver coins on the table. Though he feigns a level of easiness, his skin shines with sweat and his fingers twitch at his sides, too jittery. This money doesn’t belong to him.

  Ferrick’s laugh fills the room. It’s a boisterous, drunken sound that reaches the ceiling and causes several people to look our way. He’s always flushed easily, but right now his entire face is so red it rivals his flame-colored locks. His glossy green eyes are bloodshot and filled with amused tears, though no jokes have been told.

  “One more!” He tries to tug the pirate back down into his chair, but Bastian swats his hand away. Ferrick looks at his swatted hand with a deep frown.

  “One more and I’ll have to roll you out of here.” Bastian’s eyes nearly twitch to the back of his skull. “And we don’t want to overstay our welcome.” He peers down to his pouch.

  Ferrick takes one look at it and gasps. “You stole that?” he asks, too loudly.

  If looks could kill, Ferrick would long be gone. The room quiets, and I’m certain Bastian feels the attention of the other patrons as well as I do.

  My skin crawls with the presence of their roaming eyes and spiked curiosity. Bastian’s shoulders shake as he struggles to maintain composure, eventually settling for placing a firm hand on Ferrick’s arm.

  “We need to go.” Both the intensity of Bastian’s voice and the prickle of attention from patrons makes that obvious. I clear my throat and gather my things before I slide from the table.

  The ache that stirs from the idea of leaving surprises me. I wish there were enough time for me to sink into a barrel of mead and fill my body with a hundred more lavish petit cakes. To chat with Ikaeans about silly things like fashion and trends.

  I clench my fists tight and remind myself that one day I’ll have that opportunity. But only if we keep moving.

  The tavern’s warm air has turned hot from breath and bodies as everyone eyes us. I keep my head low, not giving them the chance to glimpse my face. Ferrick begrudgingly follows, stumbling every few steps. His ruddy face twists into a scowl at Bastian, as if challenging the pirate. Bastian’s brow arches, but he says nothing as we weave through the crowd and make our way out of the tavern.

  The cool breeze and the ocean’s mist are quick to greet us. It sinks through my remaining warmth, making me wish I had a heavier coat.

  The streets are a whisper of what they were only hours before, and it’s clear now why Bastian wanted us to wait. This late in the evening, everyone is either at home or in one of the taverns, enjoying Ikae’s nightlife. The stores lining the streets are dark and empty; no one’s around to see us sneak inside. Bastian leads us around the back of Maribel’s, which, sure enough, we know is our store the moment we see it.

  The shop looks as though it’s made from thousands of pink bubbles that shimmer, pop, and redevelop as we approach. It creates a quiet little symphony that reminds me of the pop pop pop of sparkling wine.

  Though it looks fragile, the shop is sturdy as Bastian tries the handle. It gives easily beneath his grip.

  My fingertips itch
with desire as the door opens into an expansive shop with gorgeous clothing lining every wall. No longer is it formed by bubbles, but the floors and walls are a rich marble.

  “You’ll need supplies for the journey,” Bastian says, “so take what you need while I search.”

  “Search?” I echo. “For what?”

  “Have you ever seen a barracuda? If you see a symbol with one on it, let me know.” Bastian crouches low at the threshold. He leans against it, as if using the frame for support as he draws a shaky breath. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the pirate was nervous.

  Slowly he peels himself away, shifting through the clothes.

  I leave him be, my heart thumping in my throat, heavy with desire.

  The inside of the shop is breathtaking. Every article of clothing imaginable lines the wall, from fish-scale coats to chic, fitted dresses. In Arida, I’d had all my clothing personally tailored or imported. Being able to walk into a store and pick something out is unheard of.

  I’m more in love with this place by the second.

  Somewhere beside me, Ferrick hiccups. “You want me to steal?” he asks in horror, his flushed face pinching. “I should … I should call the authorities on you, you pirate!”

  I take a coat from its hanger and toss it into Ferrick’s arms. He flinches, then about three seconds later, stumbles back in surprise.

  “We’re not stealing,” I tell him sweetly, draping another shirt in his arms. He crinkles his nose distastefully. “I bought this store for you as an engagement gift. I want you to take whatever you’d like.”

  His face smooths, eyes brightening with drunken delight. “You’re so wonderful. That is”—he hiccups—“so nice.”

  “Yes, Ferrick, it’s incredibly nice.” I press a gentle hand to his shoulder and guide him forward. “Now go pick out some outfits.”

  For a moment he simply stands there, looking at the spot where I pressed his shoulder with a tiny smile. I roll my eyes and get back to work.

  A fitted navy shirt made of linen catches my eye. I snatch it up and drape it over my arm, letting myself pretend for a moment that I’m out shopping with friends. That we came all this way not to end a rebellion, but simply to travel and be merry.

  My evening in the tavern with Ferrick and Bastian has spoiled me. In there, it was almost easy to believe that none of this was happening. That my demonstration of magic was excellent, and I’d finally proven myself strong enough to end my training and sail the kingdom.

  But the tavern was a beautiful lie.

  I focus instead on the task at hand. I don’t need gowns, but clothing loose enough for me to move around; just not so loose that they snag on Keel Haul’s rigging.

  Since I’ve always been fitted for clothes, the pants are a mystery to me. I hold them to my waist and use my imagination to determine whether they’ll fit. I drape a few pairs, all in a variety of pastel Ikaean colors, over my arm for good measure. The coats are next. I make a grab for a scarlet one that’s similar to the one I’m borrowing from Bastian when my heart stops cold.

  On the hanger beside it, there’s a coat as iridescent as opal.

  Zudoh.

  I jerk my hand back like it’s poison, and hear a sharp intake of breath behind me. Bastian’s gaze is hard on the coat.

  Though Kaven may be making a stir, Zudoh’s been banished from the kingdom for years. So why does this shop have Zudian clothing?

  This only confirms Bastian’s been telling the truth—Kaven’s reach is spreading. We have to move quicker.

  When I turn back to the pirate, his expression darkens. But he doesn’t seem surprised. “Let’s get going,” is all he says before reaching behind the coat to check the wall.

  Ferrick stumbles across the room, laughing quietly to himself as he grabs hold of whatever he sees, careless of whether it will fit. I sigh and add a few things for him to my pile. My arms grow weak from the weight of all the fabric, but still I grab two thick capes—one for me, another for Ferrick—and a wide-brimmed hat because I like the way it looks. Though I already have one pair of boots, I snatch another for good measure.

  I’m confident I cannot hold anything else, no matter how small, when my eye catches sight of a sparkling morganite necklace. I go to take a step toward it when the ground rattles with what feels like a dozen pounding footsteps.

  “Quiet!” Bastian demands from somewhere behind me. He drops to a crouch as the shadows of several figures pass the window. I press myself flat against the wall and peer through, squinting to see the colors they wear—capes in an intense sapphire blue. Silver trim and a shining royal emblem catch the light of the oil lamps as they pass.

  Visidian soldiers.

  “No one gets off this island. Search the ships!” one of them yells, waving the rest of his group forward while four soldiers remain on the docks.

  I try to flatten myself further, but I can only suck myself in so much. “They’ll know we’re here the moment they search Keel Haul.” I think of the gown and sapphire jewels that sit in my cabin. Surely no one else in Visidia would own such items. Bastian’s eyes narrow, skimming briefly over my satchel. I shift the clothes in my arms to cover it. “We’re not fighting my soldiers.”

  “Then we have to hide.” Bastian flicks a look at the back wall, and I wonder what it is he’s searching for back there. But there’s no time to ask as Ferrick, very drunk and very confused, starts waddling toward a display headpiece. Bastian grabs at his foot with a hiss, and Ferrick gasps.

  Though nerves urge me to clamp my eyes shut, I force myself to watch so that I can prepare to run.

  Someone steps toward the glass. His sharp face is lit by the glow of the lamp as he peers into the shop.

  It’s Casem. I swallow a gasp as he catches my eye. My guard’s face tightens, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was more afraid than surprised.

  When he starts to open his mouth, I shake my head quickly, willing silence into him. Neither Bastian nor Ferrick can see him, and I want it to remain that way.

  Don’t say anything, Casem. One word, and I’m as good as dead.

  “Please.” I mouth the word, and something in Casem’s expression cracks. He runs a tongue over his lips, and again I shake my head. His hesitation is obvious in the worrisome way his hands twitch against the glass.

  “Anyone in there?” another soldier calls from outside. I suck in a breath and shut my eyes, awaiting my fate.

  This is the end of my journey, and I’ve nothing to show for it. Visidia will be left without a fit animancer. Aunt Kalea will take my place, and with her dual magics, the kingdom will fall.

  “No,” Casem answers. My eyes flutter open as he steps away, giving me one last look before turning his head. “It’s empty.”

  “Hurry up, then!” yells a voice I don’t recognize. “We need to find the princess quickly, before anyone else does.”

  I start to smile, but Casem turns to follow the other soldiers down the street as they search every shop and tavern. He doesn’t look back.

  When we can no longer hear the sound of their boots against the cobblestone, Bastian exhales in relief. He pushes back a rack of trousers, and there on the wall is a tiny symbol, almost invisible—crossbones of two fish skeletons.

  “Found it! Everyone, this way!”

  I drag the clothes back into my arms, and from the corner of my eye I spot the necklace once more. It’s not in a case. Nothing is protecting it. It simply sits there, shimmering and beckoning me with its spectacular glory, and I find myself completely enamored by it. Most of the jewels I have back home are sapphires. I’ve never seen anything in this soft, handsome shade of pink.

  I can’t help myself when I reach out.

  But I must be drunk, because as I wrap my fingers around the stone, the world swims. I can’t sense where my feet are or how to move them. They’re heavy as lead and refuse to budge, holding me upright. The clothes drop from my hands as thousands of ants run across my arms and nestle into my hair. My ea
rs.

  I want to scream but don’t dare open my mouth because they’re on my lips too, threatening to enter. The necklace remains wound around my fingertips and I clutch it tighter, my body seizing up.

  “Princess?”

  I can’t shut my eyes. Shadows fill the corners as the ants stretch and morph into thick purple beetles whose wings buzz angrily against my neck. I want to swat them away, but my hands are too heavy. Have they been stung? Eaten away?

  “Stars!” Bastian rushes forward. His face is panicked as thick beads of sweat roll down his neck, though he sheens too heavily for it to only be nerves. I stare at him, hoping he can see the panic in my eyes.

  In all of our conversations, Yuriel has never mentioned something like this. Enchantment magic is meant to be fun—a drop of shimmer upon reality. But as the beetles crawl up my nose and drop into my clogging lungs, my chest constricts so tightly I can hardly breathe.

  When Ferrick reaches out to try to tug away the necklace, Bastian shoves him away. “Don’t touch it!”

  “What’s wrong?” Ferrick asks briskly, sobering some. “What’s happening to her?”

  Bastian ignores him, jaw clenched as he eyes the necklace. He takes hold of both my shoulders. The beetles crawl up his hands, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Listen to me, Princess. Whatever you’re seeing is all in your head; this magic is triggered by touch. All you need to do is drop the necklace and it will stop.”

  “Just take it from her!” Ferrick argues, ripping a dress off its hanger in a drunken attempt to wrap it around his hand. But Bastian throws out an arm to keep him back.

  “No. Let her feel this,” he says. “She needs to see what it’s like to fight this kind of magic.”

  I try to open my fingers, but the insects buzz angrily and morph yet again into spiders of a hundred varieties—crawling, burying into my flesh, working at my lips to try to get into my mouth before giving up and using my ears, instead.