All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology)

by Adalyn Grace

  The island is no longer quiet. Footsteps kick up sand behind me as Bastian and Ferrick draw forward, caution in their eyes, their hands clenched around their weapons, ready.

  The kids draw a tiny step back as they approach, and Raya pushes the small boy behind her. Both of them gape up at Bastian with too-large eyes, as though he’s somehow threatened them. Bastian’s face contorts. He takes a quick step back and drops his hand from his blade.

  “We’re not here to fight you,” I tell her. “I’m Amora Montara, the Princess of Visidia.”

  Though the girl’s skin pales, she makes no motion to relax or give away her thoughts. The young boy, however, has no such hesitation. He covers his mouth with a gasp and nudges the girl in the side. She swats his hand away, ignoring him.

  “You didn’t say why you’re here.” Raya barely breathes as she fights to hold her chest proud and feign calmness. But her eyes are unblinking and her chest quivers.

  I return my weapon to its sheath and close the space so only the rocks are between us.

  “We’ve come to help,” I tell her. “To stop Kaven.”

  The boy drops his hands from his mouth and begins to turn.

  “Ari—” Raya growls in protest, still side-eyeing Bastian with deep scrutiny. Ari shoves her hand from his shoulder and crouches.

  “It’s not safe for you here,” he says. “Not even to talk. Kaven’s eyes are everywhere; he probably already knows you’re here. You shouldn’t have been able to get past the barrier.” The boy waves us forward, as if expecting us to climb over even more rocks and weave between the stalagmites to follow him into the small crevice of space he shares with Raya.

  “Don’t touch this one.” He nods precisely to the stone he presses his small hands to. “Zale cursed it to make sure no one would be able to find the entrance. If you don’t know where to touch, you’ll get trapped in the curse until you forget what you were doing.”

  He slips his fingers into a tiny crevice and pushes the stone to the side, revealing a small hole he waves us toward.

  “We’ll take you to our camp,” he says, quiet and urgent. “You can speak with Zale.”

  Ferrick shoots me a look, waiting for me to make the call. Bastian’s fingers dance on his thigh, tapping anxious, tense beats. But I don’t share either of their blatant hesitations. Though it’s true we could be walking into a trap, I trust the urgent tone in the boy’s words and the way Raya scowls as she waits for me to step forward, not liking what’s happening but accepting it needs to be done.

  Her angry caution is enough to win my trust. I climb over the stones and drop to my hands and knees, crawling through the darkness.

  * * *

  The air is damp and stagnant, nearly suffocating in the tight space. My lungs are heavy and the ground’s chill bites at my palms and knees as I crawl forward. The others are directly behind me.

  “Is everyone doing all right?” I ask.

  Bastian responds with a breathy laugh. “Couldn’t be better. I’ve got a nice view.”

  Though he can’t see it, my eyes practically roll straight out of my skull to compensate for the heat that warms my cheeks. If this space were any larger, I would have turned and punched him on the shoulder.

  “Enjoy it while you can, pirate.”

  Fortunately, it doesn’t take more than a few minutes for the walls to stretch around us and the world to brighten as we ascend into the depths of a cavern, able to stand tall. Stalactites dangle precariously from the ceiling.

  Beneath the surface, luminous jellyfish-like creatures skirt over the water. They shine through the murky tide, a green light that brightens the stone walls.

  “What is this place?” I’m breathless as I stare down at the small creatures. At my feet, a tiny salamander with long gills poking from its neck flees from its hiding place and dives away from us, toward the opposite corner of the cavern.

  I sneak a careful look at Bastian, whose chest rises and falls shakily. His lips are pressed together as he scans the cavern, eyes brimming. Zudoh’s shore is a desolate, burnt wasteland, but this cavern is the picture of undisturbed beauty. It’s a small glimpse into the island I imagine he remembers as his home.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell him.

  His eyes flicker briefly toward me, throat bobbing as he nods.

  “I thought I knew every inch of this island,” he whispers, voice stolen by the cavern. “But thank the gods I was wrong.”

  I clasp a hand to his shoulder and squeeze, just once, certain we see the same sign—Zudoh may be suffering, but this island isn’t gone yet. If a place like this still exists, then there’s hope.

  But even with that hope, Bastian’s shoulders slump a little more with each step he takes. As the others walk ahead, I set my hand upon his shoulder. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? We’re finally here.”

  He meets my eyes for no more than a fleeting second and offers a small, tense nod. “It’s just been a while. I’m … not sure if anyone will recognize me. Or if there’s even anyone left for me to recognize. I was so young.”

  “All we can worry about right now is making the most of our time here.” I smile, expecting Bastian to mirror it, but his jaw is tense and his shoulders rigid.

  “Amora, there’s something you should—”

  “This way!” Ari yells as he dashes ahead of us, making both Bastian and me flinch in surprise. I turn back to the pirate to let him finish, but he screws his mouth shut and nods ahead.

  “We should keep moving.” And before I can stop him, he turns to catch up with the others.

  I want to press, but decide to give him the time he needs to process whatever it is he wants to tell me. Back home for the first time in years, I can’t imagine the emotions he’s going through.

  “Our village was destroyed,” Ari tells me as I catch up to them, trying to ignore the way Bastian purposely avoids looking at me. “But some of us were able to start a new camp. It’s secret, and we’re not supposed to leave, but…”

  “But Ari and I sneak out sometimes, to scout,” Raya says when his voice fades shyly away. She nods to Ari’s side, and he lifts his coat to reveal a tiny silver telescope. “We saw your ship. Zudoh’s the only place with wood like that. If it belonged to Kaven, we wanted to be able to warn our families. But then we watched you anchor your ship so far out; the last thing we expected was Visidians to wash up on shore.”

  Her eyes squint angrily; whenever she looks at me, it’s as though she’s scrutinizing my soul and doesn’t favor what she finds. Her face isn’t soft, but taut with a sharpened jaw. Though she’s young, the world has hardened her.

  This should never have happened to her.

  “Is Zale the one in charge?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet. This place feels almost holy, a peaceful haven meant to remain untroubled.

  Ari’s lips twist, forehead scrunching into a dozen wrinkles as he considers this. Finally, he sighs. “Over here, she is. But the other side belongs to Kaven. Like I said, we’re not supposed to go there.”

  From the corner of my eye I see Bastian’s hands balling into fists. They’re shaking.

  “You have to tell Zale you’re going to help us,” Ari says urgently. “Hurry! She’ll be so excited, come on!”

  He bounds ahead, to where sunlight signals the cavern’s exit. All I can see is a glimpse of water feeding into banks of emerald-green grass and, when I squint, a haze of shifting figures.

  “Don’t let your guard down,” Ferrick offers, though I sense no danger. My nerves are settled but I check that my satchel is secured tightly at my hip.

  A dozen faces jerk toward me as we exit the cave. Unlike me, they don’t hesitate to grab their weapons.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It takes everything in me not to grab my new dagger. Sweat licks my brow as I look into dozens of frightened but determined faces.

  The villagers before me hold weapons I’m unfamiliar with—dual axes linked by a black chain, sleek white staffs, and even some st
range smoking tubes that look like something better left not inhaled.

  Ari and Raya step in front of me.

  At the sight of the children, a woman’s eyes flash with angry concern.

  “What were you thinking, bringing people here?” she growls. The corners of her eyes crease as she looks us over, focus lingering on the weapons at our hip. She doesn’t look worried by what she sees.

  Though the woman looks maybe only a decade older than I am, her skin is pallid and withered. She wears her black hair fastened into a long braid that curls over her shoulder and sits in heavy plaits below her chest. Her hooded amber eyes narrow with scrutiny.

  The axes she wields do not tremble in her firm grip.

  “They’re going to help us,” Ari urges, waving for the others to set down their weapons. They ignore him.

  “We’re not here to hurt anyone,” I say as Vataea, Bastian, and Ferrick fan out around me. Everyone here whispers when they talk, so I’m careful to follow their lead, not wanting to further upset them. “Like your weapons, ours are for our protection. We’ll only draw them if forced, though I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The woman’s eyes narrow further and she looks Ferrick and Vataea over. The two of them stand closely, hands lifted before them in a display of truce. She looks to Bastian next, eyes sparking with surprise. She flinches, and Bastian mirrors the movement, shoulders hunching as though he intends to wilt into himself.

  “I recognize you,” she whispers. “Don’t I? By the gods, you look just like—”

  “I used to live here,” Bastian says, cutting her off swiftly. “But it was a long time ago.” Again his hands tremble in his lap as he tilts his head to me in a small nod, quick to take the focus off himself. “We’re all here to try to help. This is the Princess of Visidia, Amora Montara. She had no idea what condition Zudoh was in until now.”

  Disbelief paints her features. “How would the princess not know about Zudoh?”

  “I ask myself the same thing,” I tell her. “My parents have managed to keep Zudoh’s fate hidden from everyone, not just me. If you put down your weapons, I’ll tell you everything. We want to help.” I’m careful to not seem commanding, knowing that angering anyone with a weapon pointed at my face might not be the wisest move. “We’re here to discuss restoring Zudoh to the kingdom.”

  “We found them on the shore,” Raya quietly offers, ignoring the dark-haired woman’s glare. “They were about to head into the woods.”

  “How exactly did you get into Zudoh in the first place?” Zale challenges. “No one gets in unless Kaven invites them.”

  I point to my hair, slick with algae and sea muck. “If we were invited, I assure you we’d look a little more presentable. Please look at my hair. My clothing. We swam through a wall of dead fish to get here.”

  Zale hesitates for a moment, though the tension in her shoulders eases some as she watches me pick a fish eye from my matted hair. Her nose curls, and she waves for those behind her to relax.

  As the weapons lower, Ferrick exhales a breath so heavy with relief that it seems to relax the woman at least marginally. She stretches her hand out to me.

  I take it swiftly. Her hands are worn and rough, making me immediately aware of how soft mine are in comparison.

  “You can call me Zale,” she offers as she nods me forward, leading us toward the camp. Though Ari attempts to stray several paces behind, Zale’s eyes find him regardless, searing into him so fiercely that the boy winces.

  “I don’t care if you find one of the gods wandering lost on that shore,” she scolds. “Don’t you dare bring anyone else back here again.”

  Ari peeks at me and I flash him an apologetic shrug.

  The camp is larger than I expected, and decidedly more thriving. On this side of the cavern, it’s as if the Zudoh we saw upon our arrival was a cruel lie.

  Here, Zudoh is bright white sand, healthy green grass, and rows upon rows of tall trees. They’re similar to birch in color, but significantly thicker, with massive roots that weave in and out of the earth like overstuffed worms. In every direction, a ridge of rocky mountains stretches endlessly into the sky, shielding the camp. It’s a clever hiding place.

  Their homes are made from the same white wood of the trees, small but sturdy. Like the building back on the shore, strange metallic panels coat their rooftops, though these are significantly smaller and less sleek.

  “They help us harness energy from the sun, to keep our homes warm,” Zale explains when she catches me looking. “They store heat during the day, and release it at night.”

  We pass a group of Zudians seated around a strange formation of rocks—a taller one in the back, smaller stones around the middle, and nothing in the front. Between the stones is a tunnel of sorts, and in the middle, a raging fire.

  But its smoke doesn’t rise into the air. Instead, it filters out through rocks and into the tunnel, leading toward the cavern where a few more people are gathered. They hold canteens in their laps, fill them with water, and then bring them back to the fire, where someone waits with a variety of containers. The water goes into the containers murky, and emerges clear.

  They work in a routine—fetching the water, filtering the water through the strange containers, boiling it, filling canteens, and then setting them aside to cool.

  Realizing how much I’ve taken our spring water for granted, I try not to stare as we pass, mesmerized by how efficiently they work.

  “That makes it safe to drink?” I ask, and Zale nods with a smile curling on her lips.

  “Not one person has gotten sick from the water,” she says with an air of pride. “And, even if they ever did, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I follow her finger as she points to one of the buildings we pass. It’s larger than the others, and through the open door I see two kids sitting in chairs—one boy who looks like he’s about to vomit, and a girl who offers up a scraped knee. Two Zudians stand before them, dressed in long tunics that must have once been a bright opal, but have since dirtied into a murky gray. One places a hand on the girl’s knee, and the other on the boy’s stomach. At the hazy orange glow around their palms, I nearly choke. Ferrick echoes the sound.

  “That’s restoration magic,” Ferrick says. “They’re using Suntosan magic.”

  But it’s more than that; they’re using multiple magics.

  I stumble as bile rises to my throat, making the camp spin. Practicing multiple magics is the threat the Montaras have spent their lives protecting the kingdom against.

  I don’t bother to reel back my surprise, and Zale’s been waiting for it.

  “Remember that we don’t live under the laws of Visidia,” she says quietly, her voice a fierce whisper. “Your father took the healers away from our island when he banished us. He left our people to suffer. What else were we supposed to do?”

  “But it’s not just about Visidia!” My throat’s so dry that the words are almost painful. “Having too much magic is deadly. Using multiple magic is—”

  “Necessary,” she finishes for me. “And look around you; do we look sickly? We’ve been practicing multiple magics for years, ever since we were banished. Despite the kingdom’s claim, nothing has happened to those of us who chose to wield more than one type of magic. If we wanted to survive, this was necessary.”

  I tear at the skin around my nails as my vision bounces from face to face, taking in all the magic I failed to notice before.

  The hands that manipulate water and build structures into the earth. That heat the flames and heal the sick.

  There’s no way this could just be fine; this has been our law for centuries. If the danger of multiple magics was a lie, then how could the Montaras come to have our soul magic? How would King Cato have first established Visidia?

  I don’t want to believe it, but as the young girl jumps from her chair with a healed knee and the boy’s color returns to his skin, there’s no denying what Zale says.

  They can wield multiple
magics. And their smiles certainly don’t look corrupted as they send the children on their way. They’re not suffering, or struggling from their bodies carrying too much magic. Their souls aren’t disappearing.

  They’re fine.

  Dozens of eyes settle on us as we cross through the site, most of them curious, but others protective. They try to catch Zale’s eye, and she ushers them away with a gentle shake of her head.

  “I’ll be fine,” she tells them, and a tiny flame flickers in her palm when she says it, showing she’s willing to fight with a magic she shouldn’t even have.

  I try not to focus on the multiple magics any longer, because if I do, I’m going to be sick.

  Instead, I focus on the camp. Though there’s no absence of people here, there’s certainly an absence of noise. Even as groups of Zudians free-climb a cliffside with foot and hand holes carved out by Valukan magic, their movements and chatting are no louder than a gently sung lullaby. Not even the children scream as they run through the camp, chasing one another.

  “They’re going over the mountain in search of food,” Zale says before anyone can ask, seeming to take pride in our awed faces. “We cursed the land to misdirect others—it’s the only safe area we have, but it’s a trek.” Something lingers in her words and the squint of her eyes, but she leaves it unsaid.

  “Why’s everyone whispering?” Vataea’s thin brows sink low into her forehead. I’m glad I’m not the only one unnerved by it.

  Zale’s sharp eyes flit to her. “Because if Kaven finds our camp, we’re done for.”

  Vataea’s fingers press against her sides, nails scratching uncomfortably at her trousers. “How have you survived here so long? If there aren’t even fish in the water, surely your food supply can’t be doing well?” she asks as Zale waves us forward and into what I assume must be her home. There’s not much to the place—just a small table, a hanging bed made from ropes, and a few knickknacks—but it hides the bite of cool air from outside and settles my nerves. She motions for us to take a seat on the floor, soft and padded with smoothed white birch. Vataea sinks back on her hands, but Bastian is rigid. His focus is pinched tight.