Catching Stars

by Cayla Keenan

  “You can’t promise that.”

  Maddix grabbed the collar of her coat and used it to tilt her face up, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I am not going to let them hurt you, I swear. I’m going to keep you safe.”

  Jayin flinched away from him, doubt blooming in her heart.

  “Jayin,” he said, reading her thoughts on her face. “Stop it. Pavaal or no Pavaal, we need to go.”

  Pavaal or no Pavaal. He could be lying, she knew that, but the words gave her enough strength to pull herself together.

  “If I die, I will haunt you for the rest of your life,” she swore. Maddix smiled grimly and pulled her forward by her sleeve.

  “I expect nothing less. Now run, before we’re both ghosts.”

  They ran.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven:

  Maddix

  The Kaddahn countryside looked overwhelmingly familiar. There were the same rolling hills, spare trees, and dirt roads. They didn’t meet much by way of resistance crossing over, but Maddix assumed Hale had ensured that. If what Jayin said was true, they wouldn’t last long anyway and the witchhunters would be rid of the both of them. Maddix preferred to take his chances in another kingdom than go back and face whatever Hale had in store.

  By his side, Jayin clenched her hands into fists. She hadn’t stopped fidgeting since the moment they had crossed the border, and her skin was sickly, sallow and bloodless.

  “You need to breathe,” Maddix said.

  “I’m actually trying not to,” Jayin said through her teeth.

  “Well if you don’t exhale soon, you’re going to pass out, and I’m not carrying you the rest of the way.” He took a round stone out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here.” Jayin blinked at him, her eyes enormous and brilliantly green. She looked more like a startled deer than a person.

  “Where did you get one of these?”

  “Fell off the wall the same time I did,” Maddix said. “I thought it would help.” He didn’t know how the Kaddahn could sense magic, but at the very least the stone might be able to give her some peace of mind.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, turning the stone over in her hands before pocketing it. “You realize we’re going in completely blind, right?”

  “Yes,” Maddix replied with all the confidence he could muster. Jayin was jittery enough for the both of them. “But I can now safely think about how annoying you are without the chance of your overhearing me.”

  “That’s not—” she started, but Maddix cut her off before she could launch into a lecture about the intricacies of magic.

  “And short. Annoying and short.”

  Jayin almost smiled.

  “And I doubt the wanted posters were distributed over the border, so you and I are officially free,” he added.

  “You’re free,” Jayin corrected. “I feel like I’m inhaling through a straw.”

  “But you’re still breathing,” Maddix pointed out.

  “There’s that optimism I know and hate.”

  “I don’t see you volunteering any good cheer,” Maddix said. “So I have to be cheerful enough for both of us.”

  Jayin elbowed him in the stomach.

  They hadn’t seen anyone since they entered Kaddah, but the kingdom was nearly twice the size of Aestos, without much by way of resources or farmland and a much smaller population. It wouldn’t be long now that the hills merged into gray deadlands. Maddix had heard stories that Aestosi witches had cursed the countryside on the King’s orders. The curse remained for a hundred years until Kaddah could barely feed its people. The famine left them vulnerable and Vandel had capitalized on that vulnerability.

  Guerrilla warfare and underground skirmishes kept the conflict alive, and no-one in either kingdom felt safe. From what Maddix knew, kidnappings and impressments were commonplace as both sides tried to gain an advantage over one another.

  He also knew what they did to witches. When Maddix had first heard the stories years ago, he’d applauded the Kaddahn for how they handled sahir. He had even suggested they do the same in Aestos. Why would they need the witches if their magic could be bottled and weaponized for soldiers and Guards?

  “I say, get rid of the whole blasted lot of them,” Maddix remembered saying one night in a bar. His fellow Guardsmen roared their approval. “Who says they should get all the magic to themselves? Give it to us, we’re the ones really protecting the kingdom.”

  “What?” Jayin asked, startling him out of his thoughts. She peered up at him, one eyebrow raised. “You look like I feel.”

  “It’s nothing,” he said quickly, feeling inexplicably guilty, like she’d caught him in something. He nodded toward the rapidly decaying landscape. “They say that your people are responsible for all this.”

  Jayin snorted, the thinnest of smiles turning her lips up in the corners. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder how dayri have survived this long. You lot will believe anything.”

  “None of you have the ability to do something like this?” he asked, pointing at a particularly forlorn-looking tree. Maddix didn’t know why he was pushing, but listening to her talk helped to keep him out of his own head.

  “There are plenty of weatherwitches who could do this to the sky,” she said gesturing to the clouds above them. “Maybe certain earthwitches could strip nutrients from the soil, but I can’t think of any sahir that could create a drought and pestilence at the same time. There wouldn’t be any way to maintain it for this long. Magic dies with the witch who cast it.”

  Most of her words were going over Maddix’s head, but he didn’t bother asking her to explain.

  “Damn,” he said, nodding as if she made perfect sense. “There goes the legend of the crooked legion of witches cursing the other kingdoms on the orders of Ayrie. A Kingswitch that corrupts kings, witches, and common folk alike.”

  The small smile disappeared, and Maddix went silent, suddenly wary.

  “I wouldn’t rule it out,” she said. Maddix didn’t press—he knew all too well what happened when he pushed too hard—but he couldn’t help the questions that piled up. Who was she running from that had her so scared? She was more willing to face the sahirla than go back to Pavaal. Half the time Maddix thought she was trying to get herself killed in order to stay away from the capitol.

  The thought made him feel guiltier than ever for dragging her back there.

  He’d always seen the witches as lazy, useless aristocrats who lounged in the Palace and looked down on the common folk of Pavaal, or greedy charlatans who sold their magic to fat merchants for exorbitant prices. They were allowed to live because they offered a service and kept Aestos safe from Kaddah and Vandel, but Maddix had always assumed they could be easily dealt with if the King so chose.

  Now he knew better. And if the Kingswitch or the other Palace sahir had even a fraction of Jayin’s stubbornness, they wouldn’t go quietly. For the first time, Maddix wondered who was really running the kingdom, the King or his magical counterpart.

  “Not going to ask for the dirty details about the Palace?” Jayin asked when he didn’t respond, too wrapped up in his questions about Ayrie. About her. “Don’t you want to know about how the Palace owned me?”

  He did, but her voice had gone to a cold, removed place where Maddix knew he couldn’t follow. A place with walls of gold instead of stone.

  “Would you tell me if I did?”

  Jayin was silent for a long time before she answered, tracing patterns on the cuff. A jagged edge of scar tissue peeked out from beneath the silver. “Probably not.”

  “And as much as I’d love to lose a hand, I know better than to demand answers from testy witches.”

  “Please shout that a little louder, I’m not sure they heard you in Vandel,” she griped, but there was no heat behind it.

  They came upon a border town minutes later and Maddix’s curiosity was pushed into the back of his mind. Maybe Jayin’s paranoia was rubbing off on him, but he didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to overhear them. J
ust in case.

  “We can stay here,” Jayin said, gesturing to a small inn with so much confidence that Maddix’s eyes snapped to her.

  “What are you doing?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You can’t”—he looked around significantly—“you know.”

  “I’m not,” she said, still eying him like he’d grown another head. “I was born in the Gull, remember? I know how to case a mark.”

  “Case a mark?” Maddix repeated, fighting the urge to laugh. “Skies, you sound like a carrion. I used to arrest people like you.”

  He said the words without thinking, then froze as they washed back over him. Maddix made it a point not to talk about his life as a Guard. It hurt too much, the reminder of everything he’d lost and could never have again. Even if they caught the witch that had taken his life from him, he’d never be able to go back to the way things were. The knowledge didn’t make it any easier to think about.

  “You would’ve been one of the good ones,” Jayin said without looking at him. “And the stars only know how few good Guards there are left in Pavaal.”

  Before he could answer, she knocked her shoulder into his chest. He froze, unwilling to spoil the moment. She was softer somehow, some of her jagged edges smoothed away. Still, he knew thinking Jayin was harmless because she wasn’t sporting a scowl was like calling a wildcat a kitten because it had sheathed its claws. Best to tread carefully, but Maddix found he liked this Jayin. He liked her smile, the one that didn’t promise bloodshed.

  “Of course,” Jayin continued, almost teasing. “You wouldn’t be good enough to catch me, but still good.” He couldn’t stop himself from staring.

  “So you were some kind of criminal, is that it?” Maddix asked, trying to match her tone.

  “Absolutely not. I ran a shop.”

  Maddix snorted, choking on his laughter.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Ran a shop? You?”

  “What’s wrong with running a shop?”

  “That has to be the single most mundane job in the entire world. And you are…not…” Maddix trailed off.

  Jayin raised an eyebrow, her green eyes missing nothing. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she said. “Now if you’re done making snide comments, we’ve got to pretend to be normal.”

  Despite being so deep in enemy territory, Jayin was still the better liar. She smoothly checked them into the inn, spinning a tale about being travelers passing through. They’d gotten into the habit of sharing a room instead of making excuses for their own. Two people traveling together but sleeping separately was suspicious, no matter how many lies Jayin told to explain it away.

  “I’ll take the floor,” Jayin offered, closing the door behind them.

  “It’s alright,” Maddix objected.

  “Maddix, don’t be stupid,” she insisted. “You fell five stories. Take the bed and shut up. It’s too soft for me anyway.”

  “Too soft she says,” Maddix grumbled, but he was distracted by the way she said his name.

  “Shut up and go to sleep,” she said, grabbing a pillow and blanket and making a nest on the floor. Maddix didn’t know how she managed it, but she was asleep within minutes.

  It took him much longer. He’d gotten used to Jayin magicking the darkness away, the sphere of light floating like a personal sun. Maddix fought against the ice crawling under his skin, desperately trying to keep his breathing even.

  “There’s no one there,” he said. The echo sounded like voices, hissing back at him. Traitor, they whispered. Murderer.

  No, Maddix thought, trying to plead with the spirits, his hands fisting in the sheets. No, I’m not—I’m innocent! He tried to move, to snap himself out of it, but he couldn’t move. The shadows solidified, forming familiar faces—Mole and Hale, both reaching for him. Behind them, the demon lurked, its eyes glowing like coals.

  “No—no. Stop! Please!” The words were his, but the voice was unfamiliar. Maddix’s eyes opened and the shadows were just shadows. No figures skulked in the dark. “Stop!”

  “Jayin,” Maddix whispered, finally recognizing her voice. He leaned over the bed. “Jayin wake up. You’re having a nightmare. Hey,” he tried again, reaching out to shake her awake. He should have known better. A gloved hand gripped his wrist and pulled him onto the ground in a single motion. Maddix blinked, and she was on top of him, straddling his hips with a knife in each hand. Her eyes were empty, her pupils blown so wide he could see himself reflected in the black.

  The knives plunged towards his chest. Maddix threw his arms up, barely catching her wrists in time. “Jayin!” Maddix said, too loud. She blinked and the daggers slipped from her grip.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, horror dawning in her eyes. She scrambled away from him until her back hit the far wall. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, trying not to think about how close she’d been to gutting him. “It was just a nightmare.”

  “I can’t breathe,” she whispered, pulling her knees close to her chest. Each word sounded like it was being wrenched out of her. “I’m sorry. I hate this place.”

  Jayin exhaled shakily, and Maddix searched for the words to comfort her. Outside their window, something popped like—

  “Get down!” Maddix shouted. He pulled Jayin to the floor and flattened his body over hers as something crashed through the window. The cannonball rolled to the far end of the room before exploding into a whirl of fire.

  Maddix tightened his arms around Jayin, ducking his head to shield her from the blaze. Something buzzed under his skin, dizzying and warm like the first sip of arak. He pushed himself to his feet, dragging Jayin with him. The fire raged, spreading the walls to the ceiling in an instant, but the blaze passed them by. Maddix didn’t know how Jayin was doing it, but if she was using magic, they needed to go. Now.

  “Is it just me,” she asked, breathless, “or did we just walk into another warzone?”

  “Stop it,” Maddix barked, ignoring her question. The faint silver glow framed his vision. The entire building was on fire, its patrons streaming onto the streets like ants from an anthill.

  “Stop what?” she demanded, sprinting alongside him as they burst onto the street. Three more buildings were ablaze, and men in armor rode through on horseback, cutting down anyone in their path.

  A raid, Maddix realized. A Vandelian raid. Skies, of course it had to be tonight of all nights. His star really had gone dark on him.

  Maddix had to leap aside to avoid being trampled, and hot blood splashed onto his face. A woman slid to the cobbled streets, nearly split in two. Jayin screamed, moving before Maddix could stop her. She launched herself onto the soldier’s horse, her blade gleaming in the firelight before she opened his throat. Jayin flipped off of the saddle, landing neatly beside the soldier’s corpse. She stalked back to Maddix’s side, hissing in the sahir language.

  “Stop what?” she asked calmly, flicking her knife to the side. Blood spattered onto the street.

  “Using magic,” he said. He swallowed hard. “They can track it here.”

  “I’m not using magic,” she insisted. Maddix was about to reply when another soldier came galloping towards them, sword in hand. This time, Maddix was ready, parrying the man’s thrust. He spun onto his knees, and slashed at the horse’s legs. The poor creature fell immediately, crushing the man beneath its bulk. Jayin finished them both off.

  They only made it a few steps farther before more men poured into the streets.

  “I’m not using magic,” Jayin said again, her eyes on something in the distance. “But she is.”

  Maddix wouldn’t have noticed the woman, a hunched-over old crone, until she opened her mouth. The air distorted like heat from a flame and the soldiers in the woman’s path crumpled like paper dolls.

  “I thought that was impossible.”

  “Apparently not.” Jayin managed before two soldiers set upon them again. Maddix lost track of her as he focused on his own adversary. “O
h, to the Dark with it,” she cursed and then her hand was at Maddix’s throat, snatching the stone off of his neck.

  Jayin hardly winced, throwing her arms out in front of her. She cut down soldiers the instant they appeared, and Maddix had no choice but to follow as she created a path through the teeming streets.

  Footsteps. Maddix whirled, sword in hand, but it was as if his head had been filled with cotton. The world slowed to a crawl. An old woman stood over him. She was dangerous somehow, but Maddix didn’t know how. The cobblestones felt cool again his cheek. He couldn’t remember falling.

  The world resumed its previous speed just in time for him to watch Jayin turn and shout something. It might have been his name. Maddix didn’t mind. Everything had gone quiet and peaceful.

  Jayin reached out to him, and Maddix tried to reach back, but his arms wouldn’t move. She might have run to his side, but Maddix’s world had already gone dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight:

  Jayin

  Jayin watched Maddix fall, unable to stop the old witch as she turned her magic on him.

  “Maddix,” she cried, but it was too late. He was already unconscious, his breathing slow and even. “Maddix, wake up.” She shook him, but he didn’t stir.

  “We must go,” the old witch said, laying a hand on Jayin’s shoulder. She recoiled, bringing her knife to the woman’s throat. The witch reached for her magic and Jayin pressed the blade in further.

  “Touch me again and I’ll carve out your larynx,” Jayin hissed. “What did you do to him?”

  “He is dayri,” the witch said. “He was going to attack you.”

  “He’s with me.” She didn’t have time for this. If the stories about Kaddah were true—if even half were true—they were going to be set upon any minute.

  Just go, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. Leave him. Maddix had been nothing but trouble since the day he helped the witchhunters capture her. Stars, that seemed so long ago. A lifetime ago. A lifetime she could have been spending on the Isles with Om, safe and free of all of this.