All the Stars and Teeth

by Adalyn Grace

  There’s a moment where I almost consider it—because if this is what it takes to save my kingdom, can I really say no?—but I shake the temptation away. There’s no way I’m kidnapping a mermaid.

  “Either she comes with us of her own free will, or not at all,” I tell them, leaving no room for rebuttal. “If we have to, we’ll find another way to reach Kaven.”

  “No one said we have to kidnap her,” Bastian says. “Let’s just focus on finding one, and then we’ll go from there.”

  Ferrick frowns deeply as he tilts his head back against the leather. But he doesn’t argue. He looks like he just wants to take a nap that’s long enough to sleep off his ale.

  “It sounds like you’re all in for quite the adventure.” Shanty’s eyes slit like a cat who’s spotted its prey. “But first, let me tend to those faces of yours. We’ll have to get you past those guards if you’re to get back to your ship.”

  She closes the space between us and my skin buzzes with the thrum of unfamiliar magic as she brushes a soft thumb over my cheeks and brows, turning my face every which way to scrutinize me. She does the same with Ferrick, whose neck retracts so far that he’s formed two chins, both of them equally appalled.

  “My face,” he says between grimaces, “is mine.”

  “Yes, love, and it will still be yours.” Her fingertips are hot against my skin. “The enchantment I can offer is only temporary, but it will give you plenty of time to get back to that ship of yours.”

  The most I’ve ever experienced Ikae’s magic was when Yuriel made my fingernails different colors when we were children, and I’ve no memory of how long that lasted. Curiosity warms my nervous stomach.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Shanty’s quick to shake her head. “It’s only a glamour. You won’t feel a thing.”

  “Then do whatever you need to.”

  Ferrick grumbles as though I’ve cursed us to some miserable fate, but he’ll get over it.

  When she presses her fingers against my temples this time, it’s like my skin is melting. I gasp, flinching away on instinct, but Shanty’s grip is tight and expectant.

  The enchantment doesn’t hurt, necessarily. It’s a strange, foreign feeling. Alarming at first, like my skin’s the wax of a burning candle. But then, as I accept the changes happening, the warmth spreads pleasantly throughout my body. It’s like I’m being pampered.

  One of the barracudas must sense my curiosity, for she brings me an ornate hand mirror. I try not to wonder how often they must do this for them to have one lying around, and hold it up. I watch with awe as my dark brown curls lighten into a soft shade of lavender and shrink, shorter and shorter, until my hair stops above my ears. Worry catches in my throat, and I reach to touch my hair in a panic, expecting it to be gone. And yet my fingers brush through my curls as they always do.

  “Like I said,” Shanty says, amusement in her words, “it’s only a glamour. Try not to touch your hair; to everyone else, it will look as though you’re stroking the air.”

  Shanty’s fingers roam my jaw next. I draw a sharp breath as she widens the structure and sharpens the bones. She spends several minutes altering the color of my eyes, and then thickens my brows into two perfect powder-pink arches. I have to resist scratching at the stubble that glamours my cheeks, trying to remind myself that my skin will still be smooth to the touch.

  “Wear a coat to cover yourself,” she says simply, waving to my chest. “No one should recognize you like this.”

  I barely manage a nod, unable to pull my hands away from my cheeks. “I’d no idea enchantment magic could do this.”

  Shanty’s lips stretch into a smug grin as she moves on to Ferrick, cropping his red waves and strengthening his jaw. “Most people can only do parlor tricks; simple things like changing hair or eye color, or altering the fabric of their clothing. I’m one of the few full face-shifters.” She enlarges Ferrick’s eyes and softens them into a pastel blue to match his new hair. “But I’m training to be a full body-shifter. When I’m trying to play the part of someone else, I can’t tell you how many times these have gotten in the way of a disguise.” She motions to her own chest and drags her hand over her thick waist and down the generous curve of her hips for emphasis. “But yes, enchantment magic can do more than most people give it credit for, or that most take the time to uncover. All barracudas have found ways to expand the use of our allegedly frivolous magic, but few deal with faces.”

  Though it should reassure me that Shanty’s one of the few who can perform this magic, my eyes wander, counting the women in the lounge. There are at least twenty barracudas, all with strangely unique enchantment magic.

  “I can’t make any two people look perfectly identical,” Shanty murmurs, as if sensing my unease. “And I can’t alter height or size like Liam can, nor can I replicate someone else’s facial features perfectly. It’s more about working with the features someone already has, and adjusting them. Like a temporary game of dress-up. Enchantment magic is no different from any other—everyone uses it a little differently, and is more comfortable using it in certain ways.”

  Shanty beams as she pulls away from Ferrick with dramatic flair, proudly showing off her work. He looks different enough not to be recognizable at first glance, but when I’m up close, squinting at the perpetual worry in his eyes and the thin bridge of his nose, he’s still very much himself.

  Shanty’s magic is not a miracle by any means, but if I look as altered as Ferrick, we’re different enough to get away with this.

  “What in the gods’ names have you done to my face?” He gasps as he touches it, pastel-blue brows furrowing. “I’ll never be able to trust another face for as long as I live.”

  Even drunk, he’s right; if face-shifters exist, then who might I have passed in my life, thinking they were someone different than they were? Even if Shanty is one of the few, the existence of this magic is far from reassuring.

  “You both look quite handsome.” Amusement glints in Bastian’s eyes, but there’s something off about them. They’re weighed down tiredly, and his skin has grown ashen, covered by a thin veil of sweat.

  I shoo him away as I stand, and am promptly ushered away by Shanty. She says something to one of the other barracudas, and they disappear for a moment before returning with a handful of Ikaean clothing—white trousers, a soft pink frock and vest, and a coat heavier than the weather calls for to mask the shape of my body. I change into them swiftly, and my insides roil as I examine my widened jaw and growing stubble in the full-length mirror and decide there’s no way anyone would recognize me.

  My face isn’t my own.

  Ferrick has changed into an outfit similar to mine, and as Shanty examines us for a final time, she beams proudly at her work.

  “Don’t forget to keep your end of the deal,” she purrs, teeth gleaming with terrific pride. “Otherwise I might have to pay the kingdom a little visit myself. And you won’t even see me coming.”

  My breath hitches, but I force my nerves away. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  Shanty nods her approval and waves for Liam to join her. He’s there within seconds, silver eyes skimming over Ferrick and me with pleased amusement. His expression never shifts; it’s like he knows something no one else in the room does.

  “Please see that our guests are escorted out,” she says, and the man nods swiftly before stretching an arm around Bastian’s shoulders, ushering him back the way we came—to an empty black wall with a tiny knob handle.

  He twists the knob and pulls the door open. “Please stop by again, should you ever require our assistance.” The words may be light and friendly, but he gives us no time to respond before steering us out onto stained-glass streets, somehow in a completely different area of town than where we entered. His face once again shines from pink to red as the lights flicker against his skin, half visible in the shadows of the wall’s crack. Without warning, it slams shut.

  I watched Liam open that door, and yet, on this side, the stone
wall is smooth. There’s no handle or button, just a single stone with a tiny etching of skeletal fish crossbones, in a random alleyway we’ve been dumped off in.

  For a long moment, the three of us stare at the solid stone slab, trying to process everything that just happened and the strange place we’ve emerged from.

  Eventually, Ferrick huffs a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “I can’t tell if I’m drunk, or if that’s the weirdest magic I’ve ever seen.”

  “Both,” I answer, and he doesn’t disagree.

  My blood pulses as I stare, enthralled such a place could even exist. Gently I run my finger over the light gray stone, but it feels no different from the others.

  This is the magic of Visidia’s people, but used in strange ways I’ve never before seen. Ways I never would have known existed if not for seeing it with my own eyes.

  What a strange, wonderful place.

  “We’re not in the clear yet,” Bastian says, drawing my attention back to the situation at hand.

  I’ve a rebellion to stop; there’s no way a few soldiers or an impending execution will keep me from that.

  “Do you have an idea in mind?” I ask.

  Bastian’s jaw quirks slightly, the sheen of sweat on his skin even heavier than it was inside the warm lounge. “All we have to do is get on the ship.” His words are slow, breath so labored it sounds as though he’s winded enough for the three of us. He must not have wanted us to know how much the alcohol affected him; I can only hope the cool sea breeze does him some good.

  “And then what?” Ferrick asks. Though he seems to be sobering up some, he wears the perpetual glare of someone nursing a headache after one too many drinks.

  “And then we take advantage of the fact Keel Haul’s magical and faster than anything else on the water.” Bastian smiles tightly, and out of habit I run a finger over the lip of my satchel. Though I don’t plan to use my magic on the soldiers, I find comfort in the action.

  I square my shoulders and draw a breath to steady myself. “Let’s get going.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Unlike Arida, whose nights are brightly lit by torch and starlight, nights in Ikae exist in a multicolored haze. The glow of enchanted oil lamps blankets the busier streets, but the alleyways are left forgotten. We stumble through them half-blind, following the echoes of bellowing soldiers who scout the docks.

  Most of them scour the city. We’ve carefully avoided several small groups already, but there’s no getting around them this time. Fortunately, only a few are posted on the docks, while others search the ships anchored there. They don’t seem to have reached Keel Haul, yet.

  I run a hand over my jawline, hoping the sharpened bones and stubble are still there to disguise me.

  “Act natural,” I tell Ferrick, biting the inside of my cheek as his shoulders tense and his face pinches together with the attempt.

  Perfectly natural, indeed.

  We file out into the streets, and Bastian immediately begins boisterously talking about this morning’s rousing game of Cannon Rushing. I almost fake a laugh in response, but sharply halt the noise almost as quickly as it starts.

  I may look different to others, but my voice is still my own.

  We earn the immediate attention of two soldiers who flank the entrance of the docks, and I tense with recognition—it’s a seasoned guard named Antoni, and a newer soldier, Karin. I don’t remember either of their magics, and because they wear the same sapphire uniforms of palace guards instead of the color that represents their home island, it’s impossible to know what they practice. I keep my eyes far from them, not wanting to find out.

  “Stop there!” Antoni yells, his voice low and guttural. “The docks are closed for the night.”

  Bastian falters, pretending to be thrown off guard. “Closed?” he echoes, as if testing the taste of the word. And then he frowns, deciding he doesn’t like it. “Why did no one mention this earlier? How long do you intend to keep them shut?” His voice begins to rise, sounding half flustered and half ridiculously insulted. It’s truly quite impressive.

  The guard’s brows furrow. “Emergency shutdown. I’m afraid you’ll have to leave.”

  Beside me, Ferrick is stiff as stone. I say a silent prayer he keeps his mouth shut.

  “You don’t understand,” Bastian argues, “my brother’s getting married in the morning, and our outfits are on that ship.” He points to Keel Haul and inhales a sharp, angry breath. “He’s marrying Mornute’s baroness, and if I don’t make sure her fiancé has his outfit—”

  “As well as her ring,” I add, trying to keep my voice a low baritone.

  “—his outfit and her ring, yes. If I don’t have those, she’ll have my head.”

  The guard frowns, forehead creasing with annoyance. Likely not wanting to deal with the amount of protest he senses we’re willing to offer, he looks toward Karin, who sighs knowingly.

  “I’ll escort you up,” the woman grumbles. “But make sure you’re quick about it.”

  “Of course,” I say, and Ferrick nods in what I think is an attempt to be enthusiastically thankful. The soldier gives him an odd look, but only rolls her eyes. She assumes we’re nothing more than a trio of silly young men.

  She’s no knowledge of the weapons at our hips, or the lies of our faces.

  We travel swiftly through the docks, the presence of Keel Haul so close that victory pounds in my heart’s anxious beating.

  But it’s short-lived; Casem and his group have returned from searching the town.

  “Someone claims to have seen her,” a soldier in his group announces. “She was with two men—we can presume the princess and her fiancé both fled and are seeking sanctuary with someone.”

  I keep my head tucked down and my legs moving. Ferrick’s the first to ascend the ladder up Keel Haul, trying desperately to hide that a partially missing hand is what’s slowing him down. Bastian quickly follows, and I’m only a few steps away.

  I silently pray they don’t look toward me. But tonight, the gods must be laughing at my poor favor.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I recognize the voice as Casem’s.

  Karin hesitates as Casem closes the gap between us. Nerves eat my stomach raw, cramping it so fiercely I grimace.

  “Don’t worry, sir,” Karin says. “There’s no crew on board their ship. I was escorting them up to fetch their outfits for the baroness’s wedding tomorrow.”

  Casem’s eyes narrow sharply. “The baroness is still in Arida for Princess Amora’s birthday,” he says, and I nearly stumble on my own feet.

  Karin spins to face me. But when she does, her eyes don’t reach my face. They hesitate on my white trousers, noticing first what I don’t feel until a moment too late.

  Blood.

  It’s seeped through to stain the crotch and upper thighs of my trousers, and I understand now it wasn’t worry that’s been cramping my stomach for the past hour.

  Casem follows Karin’s focus, and his cheeks flush pink. “My apologies, sir. If your clothes are aboard that ship, please allow Karin to escort you to—” His words stall as he stares down at my pants, and hesitation knits his brows as though he’s seen something off. When I peer down to see what’s caught his attention, my entire body numbs.

  My satchel.

  When Casem throws his attention to my face, his eyes spark with immediate recognition. “Amora?”

  I don’t think, or wait to figure out whether this woman has magic. I grab Karin by her shoulders and use every ounce of strength and adrenaline to shove her off the dock and into the water.

  “Time to go!” Bastian yanks himself up the ropes of Keel Haul. “Hurry and grab on!”

  The docks ignite with life and fury. Bastian’s a far quicker climber than I am; his years of experience have paid off. Though I manage to grip the ladder, Casem does the same.

  “Amora!” He grabs my left ankle. I twist and kick my foot from his grip, ready to demand he release me. But when I glance down, it’s not determ
ination in his eyes. It’s panic.

  “Push me into the water,” he whispers sharply. “Tell me where you’re going, and then kick me down.”

  “Why would I—”

  “Then I’ll tell them you’re going to Valuka! I’m going to grab you, but you need to push me into the water.”

  And he does just that. Casem stretches to grab at my leg once more, but his grip looks stronger than it truly is. I snarl and twist out of it easily, slamming my boot down into his face. He yelps and loses his grip, slipping from the rope and into the water below. But I feel a rush of his Valukan magic before he falls, discreetly pushing higher and hastening my climb. I wince and send him a silent thanks for his help.

  Above me, Bastian and Ferrick lean over the railing to pull me up. One soldier forms a ball of fire in his hands, preparing to toss it at the ropes. But several other soldiers lunge and get in his way as they dive for the ladder that Bastian’s quick to swing up and over the ledge.

  They don’t rush to their ship, likely thinking we’ve no crew and no means of escape. But that’s their biggest mistake.

  The moment I’m on deck, the sails bloat with the crisp night air, allowing the sharp breeze to wrench it from the docks. Bastian runs to reel in the anchors and I follow, ignoring the sticky blood coating my thighs as I help him.

  “Get back to the ship!” Casem yells from below, choking and spitting up water. “The princess is escaping to Valuka!”

  Even if they had a Valukan with an affinity for air or water aboard, I doubt they’d reach us in time. Keel Haul zips from the docks and plunges into the open sea, faster than any Visidian ship I’ve ever known.

  I risk a look back as the soldiers flock to their ship, but already they’re specks in the distance.

  I slump onto the deck as my adrenaline slows, attempting to calm my breaths. “We need to be more careful moving forward.”

  Ferrick groans. “We should find another ship. Now that they’ve seen this one, there’s no chance they won’t send everyone looking for the only white ship sailing the kingdom.”