by Adalyn Grace
“It’s been hard. We’ve a lake that’s beginning to run dry, so we’ve been trying to engineer new crops on the other side of the mountain,” Zale says as she lowers herself to join us on the floor. “But the land isn’t taking to it well. I’ll admit it’s been a struggle, but if we venture any farther out, we risk capture.” She looks toward the door, shoulders slumping. “My mother was one of Zudoh’s best scientists. She studied plants, and tried to find ways to make them larger, or even grow quicker. She’s the one who founded this camp, and did most of her experiments here.
“Kaven killed her years ago, when she was trying to sneak others into our camp,” she continues after a moment’s pause. “But the trees she engineered are in abundance, here. Their wood is light and pliable, and the trees grow back to full size within months of being cut. Her dream was to use them to create newer, faster ships. And we’ve been trying to do the same.”
Thinking of Keel Haul, I sneak a glance at Bastian, but he keeps his attention firmly focused ahead. Despite the coolness of the air, sweat slicks his skin.
“Trying?” I ask, prying my focus from his trembling hands and returning it to Zale. There’s tension in her jaw as her eyes bore into me.
“The king burned our ships,” she says in a voice that’s pure gravel. It slices straight through me slick as steel, catching my breath in my throat. “For years he cut us off from traveling; only recently has Zudoh produced enough wood to manufacture ships again, which is how Kaven’s been able to grow his army in recent years. But it’s been slower for us, since we have so few people to help build.” Her words ring heavy with pain and exhaustion.
I think back to everything I knew about Zudoh. That they were banished. That they turned against Father in a fight, and that he was wounded.
But they weren’t just banished. They were imprisoned, their ships burned as they were left here with Kaven. All of this—all the suffering and fear that’s happening upon Zudoh’s soil—is because of him.
Nothing I say will be enough, but still I tell her I’m sorry through a throat that’s thick with cotton.
Part of me wants to believe that, if this is the truth, then Father surely must have had a good reason. But what possible reason is there that would warrant landlocking an island?
“We’ll be finished with one in another season or two,” Zale continues. “It’s been years in the making, as there aren’t many of us to work on it between all our other tasks. But it’s almost finished.”
“You don’t sound as pleased about this as I would expect,” Vataea says.
“Would you be pleased if you had to choose between your family and freedom?” Though Zale’s never struck me as anything but powerful, I notice for the first time how small her hands are as she balls them into fists on her lap. “We build the ship over the mountain, so we can get it to the water when we’re stocked and ready to try to break the barrier. Though we’ve created tools to make the climb possible, I’m afraid not all our people are fit for that journey. If we’re to leave, we’d have to leave some of them behind.”
“What about using Curmanan magic?” I press, though even suggesting they use another magic feels wrong on my lips.
Zale smiles sadly. “Our camp is small. We’ve a few who’ve tried to practice it, but levitation is a high-level skill. None of us have been able to master it, and we’ve no time to keep trying. It would take years we don’t have. We even thought about using Valukan earth magic to build a path through the mountain, but it would take too long to do it slowly, and would be too loud to do it quickly. Once we get over the mountain, we need to be quick to collectively try to break Kaven’s curse. He’ll notice the moment it’s down, so we won’t have time to linger. Climbing is our only option.”
My nod is slow as the words sink in. I can’t let this happen.
“Why does he have such a hold on this island?” Ferrick asks. My palms are slick with sweat I wipe over my pants, trying to relax enough to focus on Zale’s answers.
“Kaven believes everyone should learn whatever magic they want,” Zale tells us. “And he thinks that Montara magic—your soul magic—should be something we practice widely. But what he refuses to believe is that some are perfectly content with only having their one magic. That not all of us wish to spend our lives mastering every form of magic out there.”
“How big has his following grown?” Bastian asks so quietly his words are barely audible.
Zale narrows her eyes and inspects him again. Her cheeks hollow as though she’s biting the inside of them, assessing him like a puzzle.
Bastian tries not to look her directly in the eye.
“Not as large as it could be, since he’s trying to force people to learn a magic many of them can’t handle,” she eventually answers, ceasing her scrutiny. “But probably half of both Zudoh and Kerost follow him. I don’t think he has much of a hold on the other islands; maybe small numbers if anything. It’s not practicing multiple magics that makes people sick you know. It’s only when they try to learn Aridian magic.”
Ferrick looks vaguely ill. “What do you mean, Aridian magic? There’s no way anyone else can learn that.” He turns to me to see if I share his surprise, and I sink into myself. “Did you know about this?”
“I didn’t want to believe it either,” I offer him quietly. “Not until I saw it.”
Understandably, this answer doesn’t please him. He sits back on his hands, shaking his head as Zale explains. Beside him, Vataea listens intently.
“It’s far from proper Aridian magic,” Zale clarifies. “But somehow Kaven’s created a version that’s not quite right. He used to kidnap people and force them to learn it. Now that he has a following though, he shares it with them. But most who try to learn this magic suffer and die immediately. Those who survive become warped. Corrupted, like him. That magic is likely what made him so awful in the first place.”
Even though I already knew this, hearing it again makes me shiver. Bastian’s head dips to the floor, while Ferrick chews anxiously at his bottom lip. Vataea’s forehead creases as she watches Zale, waiting for the woman to say more.
“Everyone should be able to practice whatever magic they wish,” Zale says fearlessly. “I don’t disagree with Kaven on that. But where the king keeps magic from us, Kaven forces it on us. He’s destroyed Zudoh, and now he’s set his sights on the other islands. Soon he’ll be knocking on the palace doors.” Her eyes narrow as she waits for my reaction, but I feel no anger toward her. Only confusion.
All my life, the ban on multiple magics has been Visidia’s most primary law. Father always said it was to protect us, and I believed him without question. It’s why I accepted my magic. Why I pressed my blade into the arm of that first prisoner, and why I’ve taken so many lives since.
I drop my head into my palms. Was everything a lie?
“If we promised to take care of Kaven and restore this island, would you consider rejoining Visidia?”
Her face tilts up, eyes brimming. She doesn’t hesitate when she nods and says, “Absolutely,” like that one word is the only truth she knows. Like it’s the prayer she whispers every night. “We care little about kings or politics; all we want is the chance to live comfortably again, whether it’s on this island or another. To exist without worrying whether someone will kidnap our children or force us to learn a magic we want nothing to do with.” Her lips curl, and heat burns fiercely within my chest, igniting my speeding heart.
“You’re not leaving anyone behind.” I’m quick to my feet and Bastian and Vataea follow suit without question. Ferrick, however, is slower to rise. His eyes squint ahead at Zale, expression tight. “Where do we find Kaven?”
Zale stiffens, shoulders pulling back as her spine straightens. She looks us over, lips pressed into a fine line. Her eyes linger on Bastian longer than any of us, and for a moment I worry she’ll refuse our help. That she’ll call the others to help eliminate us. But then she stands as well and says, “He’s through the woods. But Zudoh�
��s nights are cold and dangerous. You’ll freeze in those clothes. Our healing ward is empty; the four of you should stay there for the night. We may not have much to offer, but if you’re going to help us, then let us help you.”
Though Ferrick looks wary and Bastian can’t seem to look Zale in the eye, my clothes are still soaked and my hair slick with algae that won’t dry. Getting lost in the dark or freezing in the woods won’t get us anywhere.
And so I accept Zale’s offer, and she guides us toward the door as she stands.
Outside the hut, a few dozen Zudians wait for us, not bothering to hide their eavesdropping. Though their eyes never stray from us as we journey back to the small building where we watched the children being healed, they dip their heads ever so slightly as we pass, offering hesitant thanks.
It’s only a small amount of trust, but it’s trust from my people nevertheless. Pride heats my cheeks and hastens my footsteps. I bow my head back to them before Vataea and I are escorted into one building, and Ferrick and Bastian the other.
It might not seem like much to the others, but I’ll use their trust as my armor, and the fate of my kingdom as my strength.
Come tomorrow, Kaven will no longer be a threat, and I’ll restore this kingdom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I’d hoped a bath would make me feel cleaner. But as my wet hair drips onto the hands I hold before me, all I can see is the blood that has forever stained them.
I’ve been practicing soul magic since I was a child; nights in the prison with Father form some of my earliest memories. Back then, I believed what he told me: we do what we do to protect the kingdom. The overall well-being of Visidia is more important than eliminating a single corrupted soul.
Once again, I think of the first time I helped with an execution. It’s been years since I’ve thought of it, yet it’s been heavy on my mind ever since my failed performance. When I close my eyes, I see my five-year-old self standing in the prison cell next to my father. I recall the woman’s blood pouring over my fingers as I pressed a blade into her arm, and the way magic latched onto me in that moment—a shadowy beast that clung immediately to my soul. I suffered for weeks after that as I fought the magic down, forcing it to bond to my soul without overtaking it.
I thought what I was doing was right. I gritted through the pain so that my kingdom wouldn’t have to.
But it was a lie. Everything Father ever told me about this magic and our duties was a lie. And I believed it because I trusted him more than anything. He wasn’t just my father; he was my inspiration. The type of ruler I aspired to be like, loved and respected by our people.
But my view on the world was skewed and limited, aiding the lies he fed me with a silver spoon.
My chest heaves with sharp breaths as tears roll freely down my cheeks. I don’t bother trying to hold them back.
Outside this wall are Zudians who practice more than their own magic. Their souls are whole. Their bodies aren’t exhausted. They’re perfectly fine.
I wipe a tear away and it rolls down my fingers, but I don’t see it for what it is. Instead I see the blood of the first woman I ever executed, trailing down my finger like a serpent.
If not to protect Visidia, then what was her death for?
At the sound of my door creaking open, I quickly wipe my eyes and dry my hands on my pants. Though I expect a freshly bathed Vataea, it’s Bastian who staggers in without knocking, a flask in his hand. He takes one look at me, and his face drops. “Are you crying?” he asks in a voice lightly slurred.
I jerk my head away so he can’t see my bloodshot eyes, and press my trembling hands into my cot. “Gods, what are you doing? Get out! This isn’t the time to be screwing around.”
“I’m not screwing around.” When I point to the flask in his hands, his face nearly melts off by how impossibly deep his frown stretches. “This? This is courage. Here, I brought you some.”
Though I turn to yell at him again, my mouth turns dry as I notice for the first time that his bloodshot eyes mirror mine. I know at once it’s not from the alcohol.
Slowly, I take the offered flask and pop off the lid, greeted by the sharp sweetness of rum.
“Where’d you find this?” I ask, my mouth burning as I take a swig and pass it back to Bastian.
“I’m a pirate,” he answers, though the edges of the words are bitter. He nearly spits them. “Every pirate has a flask.”
He takes a drink, and then it’s my turn again. This time I’m more liberal with my sips.
“If you came here hoping to continue what we started back on Keel Haul, you’ve picked the wrong night.”
Bastian’s nose crinkles. “I didn’t come here to fool around. There’s something—” His words cut off with a sharp hiss of air. He presses a hand to his forehead, squinting his eyes shut against the pain. Sweat licks his cheeks and the space above his lips as he crumples over, trying to steal deep breaths between his teeth.
I toss the flask onto the cot to grab his shoulders, steadying him. “Bastian? Hey, breathe! What’s happening?”
He tenses beneath my grip and remains like that for a long moment until his breathing steadies and his muscles begin to relax. When he lifts his head again there are tears in his eyes and a crack in his voice. “What’s happening is that I shouldn’t be here. I should have never returned.”
I help him straighten, wordless as I offer him the flask. He downs it and draws another from the inside pocket of his coat.
“Courage,” he says again, “and a remedy for straying too far from my curse.”
Though I pity him for the pain he must be in, I don’t let him take a drink from the second flask. I press it down when he lifts it to his lips.
“We need you sharp tomorrow.” I keep my voice stern. “I’m sorry you’re in pain, I truly am. But you have to fight it, just for this last night.”
Rather than argue, his face cracks and he drops the flask into my hands with a shaky breath. For a long moment he’s silent, staring straight ahead at the door as though he’s trying to burn it with his eyes. But then his shoulders crumple.
“Did you see the way Zale looked at me?” He practically chokes the words, shoving his face into his palms and breathing deeply into them. “Stars, she looked at me like I was him. Like I’m the one who did this to them. That’s how they’re all going to look at me, Amora. And I deserve it. I deserve the pain. I deserve this entire blasted curse. Look at me! I walked in on you crying, and didn’t even ask you what was wrong.” Looking down at his hands, he sighs and adds quietly, “I hate seeing you hurt.”
I desperately want to open the second flask and take another swig. I want to feel it burn all the way down, numbing my pain with each sip. But it’s as I told Bastian—one more day. We have to be sharp for one more day. “I’m crying because I’ve realized the truth,” I tell him quietly, letting the words ring with the full force of the conviction I feel. “I’m just as bad as Kaven. I’ve taken as many lives as he has, if not more.”
“Don’t say that.” Bastian’s snarl is so vicious that I flinch. “Kaven’s taken lives for no reason. He’s trapped Zale and her people here on this tiny stretch of land, and forced them to find a way to survive. He’s forced them to take a magic they don’t want, just so he can gain power. You’ve taken lives, Amora, but it was never like that.”
My focus wanders to my hands, tightly clenched and resting on my thigh. “It doesn’t matter. I still killed them. I still made that choice.”
“You thought you were protecting Visidia.” Bastian takes one of my hands and moves it slowly into his lap. “It’s not your fault you were told a lie.”
But I don’t want to believe those words. Because it’s like Zale said—I’m Visidia’s princess. How could I not know the truth?
“And it’s not your fault you were cursed,” I say, but Bastian’s as unwilling to accept kindness as I am.
Again he runs his hands over his face. Threads his fingers through his hair. He shifts and
sighs until the distractions no longer work. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
I still. His chest stops its trembling as he looks straight at me, his words firm and determined. I’m not prepared for the next words he speaks.
“I haven’t been honest with you, and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I didn’t know how.” He pauses to run a tongue over his lips, and presses his free hand into his thigh, as if to brace himself for the words he’s trying to get out. “You need to know that Kaven’s not just some man on the island I happened to know of. You always wanted to know more about him, but I could never get myself to talk about him.
“It’s because he’s my brother, Amora.” His words waver. “It’s because as much as I know I have to face him, I’m terrified. He was my responsibility. My blood. I should have stopped him years ago, but instead I ran.”
The tension in my chest is suffocating. I drop my hand from his shoulder. “Did you know the truth about practicing multiple magics? Did you know it was all a lie?”
He shakes his head fiercely. “I promise I didn’t. Kaven’s nearly ten years older than me; I was a child when he started to teach everyone cursed soul magic. He said multiple magics weren’t dangerous, but I refused to learn. I … I thought he was lying. Too many people died when they tried to learn it. But now I realize that it only ever happened when they tried to learn Aridian magic.”
I press my head into my palms. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You had a chance to come clean about everything before, when you told me the truth about you and Keel Haul.”
He practically wilts into his own body. “I’m a pirate,” he says quietly, as though the words are a dangerous curse. “All my life I’ve had to play that role just to survive, and the more I played, the more the lines got blurred of who I really was. I’ve never had someone else in my life that I’ve cared for the way I care about you, and I guess … I’m still getting used to that. If I told you the truth, I thought you might hate me. Because look at what Kaven’s done.” He gestures around the room. Around the camp, as though it’s enough of an answer.