by Cayla Keenan
Om didn’t look altogether convinced, but he took a step back, releasing her.
Jayin sucked in a lungful of air, coughing and glaring her displeasure, but she couldn’t fault his reaction. She’d let him go once before, but as far as Om knew, Jayin was still loyal to the Palace and the Kingswitch.
Once she was certain she wouldn’t pass out, Jayin raised her right arm so he could see the Kingswitch’s mark. What was left of it. The flesh of her wrist was raised and puckered, two shades lighter than the soft brown of her skin. Once, a swirling black mark had signified to all who cared to look that Jayin was the property of Ayrie Palace. Once, she had been proud to be so.
“Apparently,” Jayin said, seeing the horror flickering across Om’s face, “when the Kingswitch marks one of his pets, he doesn’t want it to come off.”
She’d tried for weeks to remove the striking tattoo, going to sahir and dayri alike to no avail. Finally, she’d taken matters into her own hands and drawn a heated fire poker over her skin until burned flesh and twisting scars obscured the Kingswitch’s mark. The memory of the pain still made her weak in the knees.
“You left?” Om said, not taking his eyes off of the scar. “Why?”
“Creative differences,” Jayin said. “As you know, Ayrie doesn’t take rejection well. I’m trying to get out of the kingdom, but every bounty hunter and sailor knows my face.”
It took a moment, but Om’s eyes went wide with understanding. “You’re the one they’re looking for?” he asked, open-mouthed and gaping. Jayin shrugged. “The Gulwitch?”
“I always thought that name was a little much.”
“How true are the stories?”
“I don’t know the latest rumors, but if you’ve heard that I’m seven feet tall and have thralls of street urchins to do my bidding, I’m sorry to disappoint.”
“They’re saying you killed people.”
“Are they now?” Jayin asked coolly, trying to ignore the flash of rage sizzling under her skin. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be a murderer. Turns out, it’s not that different from being a rogue witch.”
“This isn’t funny, sahir,” Om snapped. “At best, you’re wanted for deserting. At worst, you’ll be executed for murder.”
“Well we do make a smart pair, don’t we?” Jayin fired back. “A murderer and a runaway Fire Mage.”
“Don’t call me that,” Om snarled. The tips of his hair smoked, and she saw that familiar fear in his eyes. He was still the same scared boy she’d walked away from three years ago.
“Look, I—” Jayin said, her anger disappearing all at once, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion. She pressed her fingers against the bruises blooming on her neck. She would have to wear her collar high for a few days. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I came here and put you in danger again, but I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
“What did you do to make them hunt you down like this?” Om asked.
“I left,” she said. “Once you belong to them, it’s supposed to be forever, and they’re not going to stop until I’m theirs again.” For the hundredth time since Maerta’s reappearance in her life, Jayin cursed her foolishness for thinking that she could hide in plain sight.
“I’m just trying to get out of Aestos,” she said finally. He was her last option. She had nowhere else to go if he sent her away.
“You know what happens to witches in Kaddah,” Om said quietly. She did, but he knew better than anyone. “You can’t go there.”
“I’m good at disappearing,” Jayin replied. “It doesn’t matter where I go. East, west, to the Isles, or even the colonies. Anywhere is safer than here.”
Om didn’t speak for a long while and Jayin was sure that he would tell her to get out.
“I work on the docks,” Om said, finally filling the silence. Jayin couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. Of course, he would spend his days surrounded by water. “I can poke around, see if any ships are leaving soon and won’t ask questions, but it’ll take a couple of days.” He sighed as if resigning himself to something. “You can stay here until then. There isn’t much room but—”
“Thank you,” Jayin said, cutting him off.
Om shrugged. “I owe you. For before. This makes us even.”
Chapter Nine:
Jayin
Jayin slept on the small couch that took up half of Om’s tiny living space. He tried to insist that she take the bedroom, but Jayin just waved him off. The instant she sat down on his threadbare couch, she fell asleep in seconds. She woke once in the afternoon to find a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Without so much as sweeping the area for danger, Jayin pulled it up to her neck and fell back asleep.
The sun’s first rays were creeping through the windows when footsteps shook her out of sleep a second time. Jayin’s heart pounded, alert in an instant. Trying to move as soundlessly as possible, Jayin twisted her wrists and felt the bewitched steel slide into place as she reached for the knife in her boot. Om had insisted that she disarm herself before he allowed her to stay. It was an unrealistic request that Jayin had no problem ignoring.
She inhaled once and burst into motion, throwing herself over the back of the couch. She let her momentum carry her forward where brute strength would not and managed to pin the intruder. Jayin brought her knife up, pricking the hollow of the man’s throat and throwing on a glamor to make her seem taller, stronger, fiercer. The Gulwitch’s infamous tattoos appeared, dark and dangerous against her skin.
“What are you—?” a voice demanded in Kaddahn before switching back to Aestosi. “Stop!”
Jayin blinked, recognizing Om’s face above hers. She dispelled the glamor and stepped back, slipping the curved blade into her sleeve.
“I thought I told you no weapons in the house. Where did you even hide that?” Om demanded. Blood pearled on his collarbone. He rubbed his chest where Jayin had pressed him into the wall with her gauntleted hand.
“Can’t blame a girl for being prepared,” Jayin said.
“Can I blame you for almost taking my head off of my shoulders? And why are you wearing armored gloves?”
“They’re the latest fashion in Pavaal,” Jayin said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. Next time don’t sneak up on me.”
“Don’t sneak—” Om parroted. “It’s my house.”
“And I’m the tiny defenseless witch girl with the might of Ayrie Palace bearing down on her,” Jayin replied, stretching her arms above her head. Om glared.
“Defenseless my maiden aunt,” he muttered to himself, stalking out of the room into the tiny kitchen. “If your attempt on my life made you hungry, I made breakfast.”
Jayin smiled, trailing after him. She helped herself to the food on the stove, savoring a warm meal after weeks of stolen hardtack and half-cooked rations. It wasn’t half bad either; world class compared to the slop she’d been eating in the Gull.
“Is there marjan in this?” Jayin asked, tasting the familiar spice on her tongue. The same one Ravi had sniffed weeks ago.
“You Aestosi know how to cook, I’ll give you that,” Om said. Jayin bit her lip to hide her smile, electing not to tell him that marjan came from the Oldlands.
Om raised an eyebrow when Jayin stood to get a third portion, but she ignored him. Maybe in his attempts to convince himself he wasn’t a witch, Om hadn’t noticed how much energy it took to do magic, but she wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to eat her fill.
“There’s a ship leaving for the Isles in the next couple of days,” Om said finally, setting his plate aside. “The captain is sahir like you, so it shouldn’t be too hard to get you onboard.”
Sahir like us, Jayin thought, though she didn’t say the words aloud.
“You could come with me, you know,” she said instead. Om’s head snapped up, and he stared at her, unblinking. Jayin felt her cheeks warm at the naked surprise on his face.
“There’s no stigma against witches in the Isles. You’d be safer than you are here,�
�� she went on, fighting through the discomfort. “You wouldn’t have to be afraid of your abilities, or anyone hurting you because of them. I could try to help you control it.”
“I don’t want to control it,” Om snarled, all blankness replaced by anger in an instant. “I want it gone, and I want you and your sahir lies out of my life.”
He stood, shoving himself away from the table and storming out of the house. Only the faint smell of smoke lingered.
Jayin stayed frozen for a long time after he left, cursing herself for her stupidity. She didn’t know what she expected. Om had spent the last three years of his life hiding from both the authorities and the power inside of him; of course he’d be angry at her offer. Asking for help controlling his magic meant admitting that it was a part of him. It was always easier to hate something from the outside.
The knowledge did nothing to ease her disappointment. It was selfish to even ask, but the rejection still stung like a slap. She had been on her own for so long, isolated from her people and her culture. Despite Om’s insistence he was dayri, being with him had been a balm to an ache she’d barely noticed until it vanished.
This is what you wanted, said a small, insidious voice inside of her. You left of your own free will; you decided to turn your back on your people. If you miss it so much, why don’t you let them find you?
Jayin shook her head as if she could rattle the thoughts away, shoving that voice into the furthest reaches of her mind. She wasn’t going back there, not ever, loneliness be damned.
Part of her expected Om to throw her out for her impertinence, but he kept his word, securing her passage on a sahir captain’s vessel. Jayin barely saw him in the four days leading up to the ship’s departure. He left the house before she woke up, and during the few occasions they happened to be in the same room, he wouldn’t speak a word to her. Jayin didn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t fair, reappearing in his life and asking him to uproot everything he’d built here.
For her part, there wasn’t much preparation to do. Her belongings fit easily into the pack Ravi had given her, including some meager rations in case the journey went longer than expected.
In one of the few instances where they spoke after her disastrous offer, Om told her the ship would stop at one more Aestosi port before heading to the Isles. Jayin didn’t think it would be much of a problem. She could keep her head down while the ship docked, then she would be free. Jayin had no doubt she would be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life, but it would be a life. It would be her life.
On the day of departure, Jayin rose with the sun, not bothering to wake Om. She folded the thin blanket on the couch, and didn’t bother looking back as she closed the door behind her.
The captain, a tall sun-bronzed woman, was overseeing the cargo being loaded onto her ship when Jayin arrived on the docks.
“So you’re my mystery passenger,” the captain said, sizing Jayin up. Unglamored, Jayin didn’t cut much of an impressive figure. She looked more like a carrion than anything else with the patchwork of scars crossing over her skin. It didn’t help that the captain towered over her by a large margin. “Name’s Sinta, and this is my baby, Stormwind.”
Jayin raised an eyebrow as Sinta patted the mainmast.
“Bold name, considering that a storm could mean death at sea,” Jayin said. Sailors were notoriously superstitious, and naming a ship after a squall seemed like tempting fate. Sinta grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“I’m an elemental,” she explained. “Stormwitch. While I’m at the helm, we’ll have nothing but clear skies and powerful headwinds.” Sinta paused, a wicked gleam in her eye. “Unless I get bored, a’course. Come! Let me show you to your quarters.”
To her surprise, Jayin was led to a cabin belowdecks. She’d expected a hammock in the hold with the other cargo, if that.
Sinta laughed, seeing the confusion on Jayin’s face. “Nothing but the finest lodgings for the Gulwitch.”
Jayin’s head snapped up. Om had told the captain Jayin was a low-tier witch seeking passage to the Isles. If the captain knew the truth—
“Don’t look so struck,” Sinta said, tossing the long braid of her gold hair over her shoulder. “I make it a point to know who my passengers are.”
Jayin’s fingers twitched, gathering up magic around her.
“Peace. You’ve got nothing to fear from me.”
“Prove it,” Jayin said, stretching out her hand. She wasn’t willing to lower her shields in a harbor filled with people, so she would suffer through physical contact. Just this once. Sinta raised an eyebrow but pressed three fingers to Jayin’s palm anyway. It only took a cursory search to see that the captain was telling the truth, and Jayin pulled away before all of Sinta’s secrets could come tumbling out.
“You are spectacular, aren’t you?” Sinta murmured, flexing her hand. “Satisfied?”
“Satisfied.”
“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve another passenger to greet. I think you two know one another.”
Another passenger?
Jayin followed Sinta after a beat of silence. A familiar figure was climbing aboard the gangplank as Jayin reemerged on the deck. A figure with long, ashy hair and steel-gray eyes.
“Om?” Jayin said before she could stop herself. Om’s eyes flashed to hers and a rueful smile touched his lips.
“Hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “If it’s not too late, I thought I would take you up on your offer. Being a dockworker isn’t much of a life.”
“Are you sure?” Jayin asked softly.
“Well, considering he’s already paid his way, I’d say it’s a little late for a change a’ heart,” Sinta cut in. She frowned, leaning close to Om and sniffing his coat. “Try not to burn down my ship, aye firebrand?”
“She likes to know who her passengers are,” Jayin said conspiratorially as Om blinked, surprise flickering across his face. The ship hadn’t set sail yet, but he looked a little seasick.
“So serious!” Sinta said, clapping Om on the shoulder. “You’re not the first passenger I’ve had with a penchant for fire, and you won’t be the last. One of my own crew is a firewitch,” she said, pointing to a burly man doing something complicated with a coil of rope. Om watched the enormous sailor, looking interested in spite of himself. “Now, I suggest you two stow your belongings. We’re setting sail soon.”
Chapter Ten:
Jayin
Being aboard the Stormwind was unlike anything Jayin had ever experienced. She’d traveled all over Aestos in search of runaways and criminals, but she’d never made it to the ocean. The Kingswitch usually sent mercenaries and bounty hunters if a convict made it beyond Aestos’ borders. Jayin used to think he valued their safety in kingdoms less friendly to sahir, but she knew better. The Kingswitch didn’t want his pets escaping.
Now, Jayin wished she’d gotten her sea legs before running for her life. After having solid ground under her feet for eighteen years, the constant rocking of the ship was playing havoc with her stomach.
Om, for his part, took to the open ocean almost immediately. Jayin shouldn’t have been surprised considering his work on the docks, but it was still odd to see a Fire Mage striding the upper deck of the ship like he’d been born on board. Jayin was not so adaptable. During the first few days of the journey, she only ventured outside the stuffy walls of her cabin to throw up over the side of the ship.
“What are you supposed to be?” one of the sailors asked the first night Jayin wandered abovedecks. The open air was biting and cold against her flushed skin. She’d already vomited her meager supper into the sea and nausea still roiled in her stomach. It wasn’t doing much for her temperament.
Jayin didn’t look at the man, casting her eyes to the heavens. She hoped he’d get the hint and leave her alone. She didn’t need an audience when she was sick—again.
“You don’ look much like a rogue witch,” the sailor tried again.
“What�
��s a rogue witch supposed to look like, dayri?” Jayin spit. She didn’t need her powers to know there wasn’t a drop of magical blood in him.
“We were expecting someone, you know. Someone more.” The man’s eyes raked her up and down. “Not a slip of a girl who can’t keep her food down.”
Jayin knew she should ignore him. She should just go back to her cabin and pray to the stars that tomorrow she might be able to eat a meal without losing it to the rolling of the Stormwind.
Instead, she turned to face the man head-on. Jayin was used to being underestimated—it had been an asset more than once—but it still grated on her nerves. And with bile burning in her throat, she wasn’t in the mood to suffer insults at the hands of a sailor who wouldn’t know a shadowitch from a kinetic.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Jayin said shortly.
“Don’t provoke her, Zed,” Sinta said, coming up behind them. Jayin didn’t react, but Zed snapped to attention. “There’s more to her than meets the eye.”
Jayin fixed Sinta with a cool, even stare, disliking the captain’s willingness to hint at her identity. There were some things Jayin preferred to keep to herself. She didn’t know if tales of the Gulwitch had reached Southport, but Jayin wasn’t willing to take the chance.
She wasn’t willing to let the sailor’s insolence go unanswered either.
Jayin paused and gathered her magic, weaving it carefully, making sure to get the details right. When she was finished, there were two captains standing on the deck. The real Sinta crossed her arms, looking amused, while Zed’s mouth dropped open. Jayin suppressed a laugh, mimicking Sinta’s pose down to the enigmatic smile. Sinta grinned and Jayin matched it, following the other woman’s movements.
“It’s like looking in a mirror,” she said, raising her hand and dropping it. Jayin followed suit.
“I think I make a more convincing you than you do,” Jayin replied.