by Cayla Keenan
“Bleedin’ skies,” Zed gaped. “How are you doin’ that?”
Jayin turned, still wearing her captain’s disguise, and sized the man up.
“How are you doin’ that?” she repeated, glamoring her voice to match his. Zed blinked, suddenly staring himself in the eye. Jayin laughed as his mouth dropped open and let the glamor slip away, but by then she’d attracted the attention of the crew. They shouted out suggestions and Jayin slipped in and out of glamors to uproarious applause.
Eventually, the sailors dispersed at Sinta’s orders, going back to their posts. All except for Zed, who lingered a moment longer.
“Try climbing up to the crow’s nest,” the sailor suggested. “It might help wit’ the seasickness.” He ambled away after that, leaving Jayin alone on the deck. Jayin had no idea how climbing to the highest point of the ship would help, but without the distraction of magic, her stomach was roiling once more.
Slowly, Jayin pulled herself into the rigging and began to climb. The wind bit at her with icy teeth, and by the time she reached the crow’s nest, Jayin was convinced Zed was trying to punish her.
This high up, the rocking of the ship was magnified tenfold, and the tiny wooden platform pitched so violently Jayin was sure she was going to be thrown into the sea. She clutched the mainmast with trembling hands and closed her eyes to keep from looking down. Heights had never been much of a problem, but this was something new altogether. It was terrifying, it was nauseating, it was—
Quiet.
Jayin could hardly feel the energy of the crew up here, and at such a height, her magic soared farther than ever before. Jayin inhaled through her nose, a small, incredulous smile spreading on her face. She’d never known the world could be so gentle after living in crowded, aura-choked Pavaal for so many years. Emboldened, she stepped away from the mast and threw her arms wide, embracing the wind as it lashed around her.
She lost track of the time spent in the crow’s nest, but when her feet finally hit the deck again, they were steady. Compared to the crow’s nest, the ship was blessedly solid, and Jayin found she could roam freely without her stomach heaving. Reveling in her newfound freedom, Jayin walked every inch of the ship, exploring everything, and when she finally found Zed, she thanked him for the advice.
“Guess we both learned something new today,” the man said with a wink. Jayin decided she liked him.
Once she didn’t spend every waking moment in her cabin, Jayin quickly won her place amongst the crew. The journey to Aestos’ southernmost port took a little over a week, and Jayin was eager to make up for the time she’d lost hiding below deck. She bounced between crewmembers, picking up whatever skills they had to teach her. Tying knots, unsnagging sails, taking watch shifts, Jayin tried her hand at it all. But she quickly found her favorite place to be was up in the rigging.
There was something intoxicating about being up so high, the wind whipping color into her cheeks and teasing her dark hair into a mad tangle. With nothing but the sky above and sea below, Jayin breathed easy. There was nothing to be afraid of, no one who wanted anything from her, no noisy auras screaming for her attention. More often than not, Jayin woke up in the crows’ nest instead of her tiny wooden cabin. She’d slept under dozens of different roofs in her life—from twisting, glittering gold arches to leaky slats that barely kept out the elements—but Jayin preferred the stars.
At night, after the day crew had eaten, they entertained themselves with stories, demonstrations of magic, or competitions. Jayin was often called upon to glamor herself into members of the crew. The other firewitch, Massimo, created brilliant displays of brightly colored flame. Some of the dayri played instruments or showed off their sleight of hand. One night, one of them offered to teach Jayin how to protect herself.
“I’ve got it covered, thanks,” Jayin said, not bothering to move from her perch atop three stacked barrels. She had snagged the blankets from her cabin and dragged them onto the deck to make a nest. The men teased her, calling her a little bird, but Jayin didn’t mind.
The sailor, an enormous, muscle-bound man named Quintin, raised his bushy eyebrows. “Your tricks and disguises won’t do you any good in a fair fight,” he insisted.
Jayin snickered. “Good thing I don’t fight fair then. And I can take care of myself.” Stars only knew she’d been doing it for years.
“I wouldn’t push it,” Om advised from his place at the back of the crowd. Jayin turned her head, a small, startled smile quirking her lips. Om almost smiled back. It was good to see him on the deck with the other sailors; for most of the journey, Om had kept to himself. The only time Jayin saw him was when he was with Massimo, quietly learning how to control his magic.
“Prove it,” Quintin challenged. Jayin shrugged, rising from her perch. “I’ll even lend you a blade.”
“I don’t need it,” Jayin said, very aware of the fact that they had the attention of the entire crew. She kept perfectly still as the sailor unsheathed the sword at his hip. Moonlight glinted off of the massive blade. Quintin swung it in an enormous arc, hard enough that the sword whistled as it split the air. Jayin didn’t flinch, but a burst of doubt blossomed in her chest. Quintin was huge, towering over her by at least a foot, and probably outweighed her by a hundred pounds.
Well done, Ijaad. Way to keep your head down. For someone who was meant to be lying low, she was spectacularly bad at walking away from a fight. Jayin chalked it up to her time with the carrions.
“Come on then,” Jayin said, watching Quintin swing the sword again. He advanced, hesitant. Then, with a roar, he drew the weapon over his head. Jayin waited until the very last moment before raising her hand. A clang echoed across the deck as Quintin’s sword sparked off of her magicked gauntlet. By the time he regained his balance, Jayin was armed, two ring daggers spinning around her thumbs.
“Cheap tricks and pretty daggers ain’t much use against a sword,” Quintin said, slashing at her. Jayin blocked the tip of his blade with the hook of one knife and forced it away with the other before falling into a roll. She used the momentum to slip past Quintin’s guard and sprang up, stabbing at his side. The tip of her knife sliced through his tunic, barely nicking the skin.
“First blood to Jayin,” Sinta announced.
“Big heavy sword isn’t much good against pretty daggers,” Jayin said, throwing one of her knives in the air and catching it again.
To her surprise, Quintin laughed, deep and full-bodied. All of the tension drained away, and Jayin grinned as the sailor charged at her again. She’d already proven herself, now the fight was just for fun. They danced across the deck, trading blows and blocking them in equal measure. Quintin’s reach and strength far outmatched Jayin’s own, but she could dart halfway across the deck before he took a single step.
Finally, Quintin forced Jayin against the railing and she leaped onto the edge as he slashed at her. She reached for her third dagger—a straightblade, not curved like the others—and threw it with all her strength, a final bid at gaining the upper hand. Cursing, Quintin ducked, only to lose his footing and hit the deck with an almighty crash.
“The match goes to Jayin!” Sinta announced and the crew roared. Jayin whooped, but her moment of victory was short-lived. The Stormwind pitched forward and she slipped, tipping over the railing.
“Jayin!” Om shouted. His hand shot out, and he grabbed hold of her sleeve before gravity could claim her. “I got you,” Om said, pulling her back to the safety of the ship. Her legs gave out the moment her feet hit the deck, and she collapsed into a pile of shaking limbs. Jayin exhaled, leaning her head back against the banister.
“Well fought!” Quintin shouted, extending a hand and hauling Jayin to her feet. “How many of those do you have on you?” He handed the straightblade back to her and she pocketed it with trembling hands.
“You will never know,” Jayin said breathlessly, her heart still pounding. “I need to keep an edge somehow.”
“How about you keep your edge without t
hrowing yourself overboard,” Om muttered.
Jayin grinned at him, her fear giving way to euphoria. There was something about a good fight that made everything else disappear. All the energies, the auras, the noise, it all vanished into the background as her focus narrowed on the next move, the next strike.
“I second that,” Sinta said. “Enough entertainment for the night.” She clapped her hands and the crew dispersed, a few stopping to congratulate Jayin on her way back to their posts.
“You’re mad,” Om said. Something almost like silence settled over the ship as the sailors went about their duties in the lantern-lit darkness. “I mean, I knew it when you let me go, but now I’m certain.”
“So defecting from Ayrie, living in the slums for a year, and crawling to your doorstep, none of that tipped you off?”
“No, it was you almost pitching yourself into the sea to win a fake sword fight that did it,” Om said.
“That felt pretty real to me,” Jayin replied.
Om rolled his eyes but he was smiling. “How many knives do you have on you?” he asked, his voice lighter than she’d ever heard it. Jayin pulled down her sleeves to reveal twin sheathes strapped to her forearms, each one holding a curved dagger.
“But what about—” Om started before Jayin raised a hand to shush him. She lifted the hem of her shirt to reveal three more stashed in her belt, along with the parrying knife in her right boot and two more blades hidden in her overcoat.
“That is excessive.”
“A girl’s got to be able to defend herself,” Jayin said, shrugging. Om chuckled. “How’s it been working with Massimo?” she asked, taking a brave stab at a dangerous topic and hoping he wouldn’t snap at her like before.
Om didn’t answer for several long seconds before he stretched out his arm. A fireball bloomed in his palm, casting flickering shadows over his face. It moved and danced across his skin like a living thing before Om closed his fist, extinguishing the flame.
“I have to use his flint,” Om said. “But he’s helping.”
“It’s beautiful,” Jayin said softly. “You see that, right?”
“I’m starting to,” Om said, his light eyes on her. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked away, suddenly fascinated with his fingernails. Jayin didn’t need magic to know what he would ask next. Part of her wanted to encourage the curiosity, but Jayin had hidden her powers for so long that talking about them made her twitchy.
“This is what I look like.”
Om’s eyes snapped to her as she answered his unspoken question. I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought—”
“Glamors take energy,” Jayin explained. “I could keep a full disguise on for a day or two, but it would burn me out.”
Jayin tapped her wrist, the skin shimmering before her scar reappeared. Of all of the marks that crisscrossed her skin, it was the only one she hid from sight. Sinta might have known Jayin was the Gulwitch, but none of the sailors could know she was a Palace sahir.
“I can maintain small ones for as long as I need. Can’t have the crew knowing I’m one of Ayrie’s pet witches.”
“Used to be,” Om corrected gently. Jayin didn’t bother disagreeing with him. She couldn’t tell him that there were still mornings where she woke up and was surprised not to find herself in Ayrie. Worse, in that moment between sleeping and waking, sometimes she even missed it.
“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” she asked.
“I think I’ve exhausted my credit of rude questions for one evening,” Om replied. He was giving her an out. She should be grateful.
“I can sense energy,” Jayin said instead. Om raised his heavy eyebrows but didn’t stop her. “Auras, signatures, the soul, whatever you want to call it. Once I know someone’s energy I can follow it, and that’s how I found you.” It felt strange, telling him this. She half expected him to shout at her again.
“What’s it like? Your magic?” Om asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Loud,” Jayin replied. “Painful.” Before she could control it, it was as if every person for miles was screaming at the top of their lungs. She knew where they were, what they were doing, their thoughts, feelings, secrets—everything. There had been so much it all blurred together into a haze of pain. It was agony she wouldn’t wish on anyone.
That was how the Kingswitch found her. Many young witches were discovered before their powers emerged and they were taken to the Academy, so they could learn to control their abilities. Some, like Jayin, were found after their magic manifested. Most were helped to undo any damage their powers might have caused before going to the Academy. After the healers helped ease the pain, Jayin was brought directly to the Palace to begin her magical education.
Stars, she’d thought herself so lucky, so blessed. The Kingswitch never recruited so young, usually selecting exceptional graduates to join him at Ayrie. Jayin was the first to be plucked off of the streets and brought to the Palace.
“I’m sorry,” Om said finally.
“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “Besides, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” Unless she accidentally touched someone, then all hell broke loose. Jayin still hadn’t managed to build a shield that could withstand physical contact.
“But it does hurt? Every time you use your abilities?”
“Not anymore,” Jayin said. Lie. “I’ve got shields up to keep everything from getting too overwhelming.”
“Shields?”
“Psychic barriers,” Jayin explained. “They help with the noise.”
As she spoke, it occurred to her once again how little she knew about her own magic. She spent years in the Palace experimenting, trying to find the boundaries, and Jayin had finally thought she knew the extent of her powers until Maddix Kell shattered every assumption she’d ever made. She hadn’t sensed him since that night when she was sure he was dying, but there was some part of her that kept tabs. Somehow, she knew he’d pulled through.
Jayin blushed, realizing how invasive her abilities sounded. She ran her fingers through the thick mane of her hair, trying to work through the tangles and failing.
“No wonder you ran away,” Om said finally. Jayin was startled a little, quickly composing herself so the surprise didn’t show on her face. “I mean, they wanted you to use your magic for them. They wanted you to hurt yourself.”
He was trying to make her feel better, but Jayin felt a weight settle in her stomach, and for the first time in days she felt seasick.
“Right,” Jayin said, looking away from him. She wished it were that simple. If only it were that simple. “What are you going to do once we reach the Isles?” It was an obvious change of subject, but Om didn’t seem to mind.
“I don’t know,” he said, but he didn’t sound altogether worried about the prospect of not knowing. “I’ll probably find some other firewitch who can help me control my powers. Maybe stay with Massimo for a while. He’s a decent teacher and doesn’t ask a lot of questions.”
Two very important qualities, the latter even more so. Even in the Isles, someone with Om’s abilities could be in danger.
“What about you? What are the Gulwitch’s grand plans?”
“I think I might ask Sinta if I can stay on the crew,” Jayin admitted, voicing the tiny thought she’d been turning over and over in her mind since she’d won the battle against the rocking of the Stormwind.
“You know you’d actually have to work,” Om teased. “Not just play around in the rigging.”
“Did you just make a joke?” Jayin asked, knocking her shoulder into his midsection.
“It has been known to happen,” Om replied. “I think this life would suit you. You fit here, and it’s quiet.”
Jayin gave a small smile, touched he would think of that. Of her comfort, as if it was something that mattered.
“Not necessarily,” Jayin said, the smile growing. She pointed at Zed, who was unsnagging the mainsail. “That man has one of the loudest auras I’ve ever heard.”
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He had nothing on Maddix Kell, but Zed had brushed against Jayin on the first day of their journey and his energy had buzzed along the outskirts of her consciousness ever since. Her shields managed to keep out his thoughts for the most part, but she could still sense him hovering on the edges of her second sight.
“Really?” Om said, his eyes lighting up. Jayin nodded, prodding at Zed’s energy. It didn’t take much for his secrets to come tumbling out of his head. Jayin stopped herself before she found anything too damning, but it still felt like an invasion, and a wave of guilt crashed over her.
“I—” she started, before she snapped her mouth closed again. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Jayin ducked her head.
Stars, she really was stupid. She was so excited to be with another sahir, so eager to show off that she’d gone and sifted through someone’s mind. It was everything she’d sworn not to do, and she had done it without a moment of hesitation.
“Jayin,” Om said, but she stepped away, trying to put some distance between them. It felt like his aura was expanding, surrounding her. Heat seared her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Burning, bloody skies, this was why she was better off alone. “Jayin.” Om reached out, his hand brushing her wrist, and Jayin’s world exploded into shades of red.
The contact only lasted a moment before she ripped her arm away, but she wasn’t fast enough. Om’s thoughts burned through her shields before she could stop them. His fear was still trapped behind his heart, freezing him from the inside out, but more recently there was something warm. Hope. Hope that was directly linked to her, which was so wrong that Jayin felt her stomach turn.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry,” Om said, taking a step away from her. “I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.”
“What’s going on in your head is your business,” Jayin said, her voice clipped and cold.
“I’m sorry,” Om said again. “I didn’t know.”
Neither had she, for a long time. There was no one with magic like hers, not anywhere. The Kingswitch had searched all of Aestos for a witch whose abilities resembled hers, but there was no one to be found. From the moment her magic manifested, Jayin was destined to be alone.