All the Stars and Teeth

by Adalyn Grace

  “These people are too afraid to even talk at normal volume,” he says. “The children can’t even yell and play freely. They’re terrified of being killed by my brother. I couldn’t risk you finding out, because…”

  “Because you needed me,” I finish for him, drawing my hand from his. “You were using me.”

  He looks away, but doesn’t deny it. “Only at first. I needed you for your magic, yes, but I was telling you the truth on Keel Haul, Amora. I wanted you to stay. I don’t have anyone else I care about in my life, not really. But I found myself wanting you in it. I didn’t want to risk losing you by telling you about Kaven. Looking back, I know that was selfish of me, and I’m sorry.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to tell you the truth now, so that you still had time to make a choice.”

  “What choice?” I echo, unable to conceal my hurt in the way my words bite.

  “If you want to leave, I understand.” He squeezes his hands shut. “I can fight Kaven on my own, as I should have done ages ago.”

  I bristle, because who does he think he is? No matter what lies I’ve spent my life believing, there’s always been a single truth I’ve known without a doubt—I was made to protect Visidia.

  I think of the look in Zale’s eyes when I swore to help her. I remember the warmth in my chest as the Zudians bowed their heads to offer me their thanks.

  And I realize now it doesn’t matter if my magic was a lie, because I can still fulfill what I believed its purpose to be. With everything in my power, I will protect and restore Visidia.

  “I would never step down from this fight,” I tell Bastian, pouring into the words every ounce of conviction I feel. “But he’s your brother. Did you come here with the intent to kill him or not? Because if he refuses to step down, there won’t be time for hesitation.”

  “The man we’re to face tomorrow is no longer my brother.” Bastian’s eyes hollow with sadness. “He’s ruined the lives of too many. I can face him; it’s facing everyone else that worries me.”

  Those words break something in me, because as I look at Bastian now, slumped and broken and barely managing to hold on, I understand him better than I ever have. Gently, I take hold of his chin, tipping it so that our eyes meet. His scruff is rough against my fingers. “Believe me when I say that I understand, and that I’m afraid, too. Look at how Visidia’s withered under my father’s reign. I understand being embarrassed by what your family has done, but you are not your brother, as I am not my father. Do you understand that?” And as I say the words aloud, it’s as though a weight falls from my shoulders.

  It’s not too late for us; we are not the mistakes of our family. We have the opportunity to change Visidia for the better.

  “But you didn’t know,” Bastian whispers. “The king kept you shut away on Arida. I spent years knowing about Kaven’s plans, and I didn’t do a thing about it.”

  “But we’re here, now. You’re here, now. Those people out there?” I point to the door, but never let my attention waver from his. “They’re counting on us. Don’t you dare say you or I shouldn’t be here; this is exactly where we need to be.”

  “I should have told you the truth earlier.” When he shuts his eyes, I release his chin.

  “You should have.” My insides prickle with heat as I try to process everything. Bastian should have told me; we promised each other there would be no more secrets. But I can understand why he held on to this. Seeing the state of Zudoh, I can understand his desperation and fear. In his situation, would I have acted any differently? Even now, staring the truth dead in the eye, I still want to believe that Father would never be capable of sitting idly by and letting this happen to our kingdom. That all those years he kept me locked on Arida truly were to protect me, and not to hide his mistakes. I want to believe that he would do better than this; that he’ll swoop in any minute to save Visidia, and prove it was all one big misunderstanding.

  Bastian, likely, wanted the same. These people we both have to face are the people capable of hurting us the most—they’re our blood. When Bastian ran, I’ve no doubt he had every hope that his brother would stop. That, eventually, they’d come to a peaceful understanding.

  But even our idols—even those we want to love and trust more than anything—can let us down. It’s time we accept it and face the reality they left us with.

  “I forgive you,” I tell Bastian, letting the words sit on my tongue for a moment to truly ensure I mean them. “But only if you fight with me tomorrow. I’ll stand by you as you face Kaven, and you by me as we face the king. Fear is part of life; all that matters is what we do with it. So think of the people who are counting on us. We have a chance to fix this.”

  I can tell he’s mentally processing the gravity of those words as his lips press together and his head dips. Quietly, he says, “I’ll stand by you.”

  “Then tomorrow morning we’re going to march through those woods and find Kaven. We’re more than our blood, both of us. Doing what we can now is all that matters.” The words give me courage I cling to tightly, using it to wipe away the despair I was drowning in mere moments before.

  “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he says. “I don’t deserve anyone’s.”

  “Yes, you do.” The pain in his eyes is the same that I feel. “If I can’t forgive you for one mistake, then how can I expect Visidia to forgive the Montaras for a lifetime of lies? Take the forgiveness, and know that from this point on, we’re truly in this together. I understand the choice you made, Bastian. I understand it better than anyone.”

  I press my lips to his, and at first the kiss is tender. But as tears begin to wet his cheeks, that tenderness gives way to something raw and passionate. Something almost desperate.

  When Bastian knots his fingers into the back of my curls, his touch is electricity. I shiver each time his thumb strokes the back of my neck.

  Falling back in the cot, I make fists in his shirt and pull his body on top of mine. His lips are rum sweet as I drink him in, nodding permission when his fingers hesitate at the edge of my tunic. When his hazel eyes catch mine, my body ignites.

  Bastian’s hands are warm and rough as they slip beneath my tunic, roaming the skin of my stomach. Exploring the curves of my hips.

  My eyes flutter shut as his lips find my neck. He alternates between peppering soft kisses and gentle bites. I hold him to me, one hand wrapped around his back and the other curled tight in his chestnut waves.

  I want this.

  I want him.

  There’s a heat in my belly that pushes me forward, guiding my fingers to the buttons of his shirt. He makes no complaint as I fumble to undo them. The moment it’s off, he slides down so that his lips are on my hip bone and I have to grip the cot to steady myself as they rove lower and lower, until he’s kissing the skin of my thighs.

  His fingers slide beneath the band of my pants and I tense, not realizing I’ve hardly been breathing this whole time.

  Bastian pauses immediately, warm eyes flickering to mine as he draws back up and plants a tender kiss to my lips. It’s the taste of rum on them that spurs me back into reality. I pull back quickly, drawing heavy breaths. My body is too aware of him; every inch of me that he’s touched burns with desire.

  “Are you okay?” Bastian asks urgently, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “We don’t have to do anything, Amora. We can stop.”

  “I don’t want to stop.” I catch his hand in mine and draw it to my lips, kissing his palm. His fingers. Knuckles. “But we need to. You’re drunk, Bastian.”

  “It was only a few drinks,” he protests, peeling his grip away to kiss my neck once more. “I’m fine.”

  Despite how much I might want it, I press my hands to his chest and ease him back. “We’ll have other chances,” I tell him calmly. “Hopefully many more. But tonight isn’t one of them.”

  He opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it with a quiet sigh. Gently, he eases himself off me, sitting on his knees at the edge of th
e cot. My body aches with the missing weight of him. I feel too light. Too cold.

  Slowly I set my hand on his thigh. He takes it with a smile.

  “I couldn’t do any of this without you, you know.” He squeezes my hand gently. “I want you to know that I’m incredibly thankful for you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You’re a pirate, Bastian Bargas.” I smile when his lips crack at the name. “You would have found a way.”

  He slips his fingers free and pulls me into a gentle hug. It lasts for only a moment before he eases away. He doesn’t look back at me until his hand is on the door. “It’s Altair, by the way. Bastian Altair.” And then he laughs, a soft and quiet sound. “Stars, I haven’t said that name in ages. It … feels good.”

  In my cot, I smile as the door shuts behind him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Only Zale sees us off as we sneak away early the next morning, and we make our way deep into the woods as the sun rises. For the past hour, these woods have tried only to devour us.

  The white birch trees are dampened with the early morning mist that’s rolled in from the shore. The farther into it we plunge, the more they consume. Overgrown roots grab at me, bruising and cutting my ankles, attempting to wrench me into the earth. Below us, the ground is covered with soot that coats my boots black.

  My weapon can’t help us here. Its poison is too powerful to waste on naughty trees. A breeze shifts through the branches and they rustle, as if laughing at me.

  “I’m trying to help you,” I growl at the island, tripping over dead bramble and broken twigs. The trees here are the same white birch as the ones from Zale’s camp, but they’re thinner. Weaker, and normal.

  Vataea trails carefully behind me, mimicking my movements to avoid injury while Ferrick grimaces and grunts beside me, smacking away sharp branches.

  “Ferrick, Amora, wait—”

  I trip on soot when I turn toward Vataea’s voice, barely able to catch myself on a stump.

  In front of me, a small black fox pokes its head out from behind one of the trees. It’s the first sign of life I’ve seen on this side of the island since we arrived in the woods probably an hour ago. I still, watching as the creature slowly eases out from behind the thin tree, its curious golden eyes never wavering from mine. Shadows fan out around its feet and wrap around the beast. I draw a step back when I see them, breath catching in my throat.

  “Bastian?” I ask, daring to look away long enough to check over my shoulders. “Vataea?”

  But no one’s there.

  I stumble back as the space around me stretches farther into darkness, dragging me with it. The trees are at least a mile away, now. Figures weave in and out of them, calling my name.

  But the voices are a warped echo that alert the hairs on my neck and force my breaths to come in gasps.

  “Amoraaa…” they call, both a whisper and a shout. “Amoraaa?”

  I twist so I’m on my knees and try to drag my shaking body back to a stand. But the moment I’m back on my feet, I wish the earth would have swallowed me whole just as it did the trees.

  The fox looms over me, massive on its hind legs. Its face is sharp and pointed, black ears poking out from the hood of a sapphire cape. Its golden eyes rove my body, and when they settle on my face again, a jagged row of teeth gleams at me.

  “Are you lost?” the fox asks, its breath foul as it heats my cheeks. “Why don’t I help you find your way?”

  It leaps into the air, and though every part of me knows I should move, I only watch as the fox twists its body. Its mouth stretches. Stretches. Stretches.

  And it swallows me whole.

  The darkness morphs into blinding white light as I jerk to my feet, gasping desperately for air.

  No longer am I surrounded by trees; there’s nothing but the beautiful red sand of Arida, and a figure waiting for me on the beach.

  Though his back is turned to me, I recognize Father by his crown—the skull of a legendary Valuna eel, with rows of sharp teeth stretching above his forehead and around his jaw, while a spine of jewel-encrusted bones glides down his back.

  “Father?” I try to say, but the words burn my throat as sand fills it, choking me. It comes out my nose. My eyes. I fall to my knees, silently begging Father to turn to me.

  Look at me. Please. You have to help me.

  My vision swims. I grab on to my tongue, thinking perhaps I can dig the sand out myself. But I can’t control my hand. It blips in my vision, first by my side, then at my throat. On my tongue again.

  I try to scream, and though no sound comes out, Father turns to me slowly.

  Only Father doesn’t have golden eyes or rows of bloodied teeth.

  The fox wears his crown. His cape. And it smiles at me, eyes glinting as it draws forward, growing twice its size with every step.

  It freezes only as something strikes my face. The fox whips its head to the side and growls.

  I see nothing that could have struck me, yet I’m knocked back a step. The fox whimpers and shrinks to half its size.

  Amora!

  The sand no longer burns my eyes. It drains from my throat, and I can breathe again.

  The fox snaps its giant eyes to me. “I can’t help you unless you let me,” it whispers, trying to crawl closer. But I finally find my legs again, and kick myself back against the sand.

  Focus, Amora! You need to focus!

  I squint my eyes shut, and see a glimpse of Bastian and Ferrick standing over me.

  When I open my eyes again, it’s the fox, the heat of its gaping mouth on my face.

  Focus!

  I dig my fists into the sand, suck in a breath, and slam my eyes shut as the fox lunges for me again.

  The world spins and warps back into focus as thousands of birch trees sprout around me. I suck in desperate breaths, body shaking as I try to find my focus. The trees stretch impossibly high, covering the sky with their thin but bountiful branches. They’re all I see, but gentle hands smooth over my forehead.

  “Is she okay?” I recognize the desperate voice as Ferrick’s. He’s somewhere beside me.

  “She will be,” Bastian answers, closer. “Stars, Princess. It’s almost as though you like being cursed.”

  I swallow, heartbeat slowing thanks to the gentle fingers that comb soothingly through my hair. When I manage to focus and dip my head back, Vataea frowns down at me.

  “Sorry,” she says. “This place is riddled with tricks. I stopped Ferrick, but I couldn’t get to you in time.” She helps me ease onto my feet, both Bastian and Ferrick in front of me with their hands out, ready to help.

  “I hate these woods,” I growl, and though my words are bitter, they seem to put everyone at ease. The lines of worry in Ferrick’s forehead smooth themselves, and though Bastian drips with sweat, he seems to stand a little steadier.

  “Did it get you, too?” I ask as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  “No, I’m just tired.” He doesn’t need to elaborate that it’s because of how far we’re traveling from Keel Haul. Bastian tugs his shirt away from his chest, fanning himself. And even now, when danger breathes down our necks, heat stirs within me and I struggle to take my eyes off him, remembering the way his skin felt beneath my fingertips last night. “What did you see?”

  I think back to the fox that stood looming over me in Father’s crown and cape, and shiver. “A fox,” is all I say, not wanting to remember the details.

  The tension in Bastian’s jaw loosens as he nods. “Foxes are tricksters. Sounds like it’s an advanced curse, one that’s made to take advantage of the victim’s biggest fears. Honestly, I’m surprised you escaped the curse at all. Let alone so quickly…” His voice trails off as he side-eyes me.

  Unlike him, I’m less concerned with how I got out of the curse than I am about what the curse showed me: Father, a monster in disguise. I swallow hard.

  As we journey deeper into the woods, a smattering of
homes spreads out before us, tiny cabins surrounded by dead trees. Though the place looks desolate, smoke lifts from a fire pit that sits between cabins. The fire itself has been snuffed out, but the coals still burn hot.

  It’s clear this land was once beautiful; it sits at the base of a mountain, with the roar of a nearby waterfall offering a peaceful ambience. The buildings are similar to the one on the main shore—white and sleek, with large glass windows. Half of them have been burned away, while the others are in shambles with broken windows and peeling, rotting wood. I step toward one of them, and there’s a flash of movement in my periphery.

  “Did any of you see that?” I ask, lowering my voice.

  Though no one answers, they don’t question me. As Bastian shifts his gaze across the terrain I start to doubt myself, thinking maybe I’m still hallucinating from my curse when another flash of movement crosses the trees.

  Bastian flinches; this time, he’s seen it. He grabs hold of my shirt and tugs me against him as something hot and sharp whizzes by my ear. It hisses as it passes, smacking into one of the houses behind us and striking the wood.

  It’s a knife. Gooey, thick sap oozes from it and drips down the wood.

  Poison.

  Vataea readies her steel dagger with deft fingers, and I mirror the action by drawing my newest blade—Rukan. A name inspired by the jellyfish whose poison is said to cause the worst pain a person could ever experience.

  I force every distraction away as five figures emerge, some of them jumping from the roofs while others encircle us from the sides. Their eyes gleam with calculation, bodies coiled with muscle. They wield strong weapons—knives, swords, and a dagger that looks to be made of bone.

  I hold my poisonous blade tightly, ready.

  One of the girls, a lithe blond who carries the bone dagger, rakes her hungry eyes over me.