by Adalyn Grace
But his words are a beautiful lie, for when I close my eyes against his cool, wet palm, shapeless magic no longer waits to greet me in the darkness.
My magic is gone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I am nothing.
I sink into the sheets of Bastian’s bed and pray they’ll devour me. Five days. It’s been five days since we made it out of Zudoh. Five days that I’ve been down here, broken and bleeding, hiding from the sun.
I am nothing.
My armor, my magic, my soul, all stolen from me.
Dully, I consider for the hundredth time what Kaven could have cursed it to. I never saw a charm, like the ones Sira used. Nor do I feel ill, as Bastian is when he spends too long away from Keel Haul.
Could my magic be cursed to the blade Kaven stabbed me with? If so, would it take a while for the initial illness to set in? Or is it somewhere around me, like in Keel Haul?
I scratch my nails along the back wall of the cabin, but feel nothing. If I were cursed to the ship, wouldn’t I feel something?
Gods, I was a fool to let Kaven have my blood.
White-hot anger boils within me and seeps through my pores until I can’t take it anymore. I claw at the healing wounds along my palm until they pool with fresh blood, tired of this cruel guessing game.
I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
My magic wasn’t even real. It’s an abomination of Sira’s soul magic. Not a beastly thing like I was made to believe, but a curse meant to destroy the Montaras. To plague us for generations.
My magic was never meant to be the way that it is. And yet I ache now that it’s been stolen from me, empty without my magic.
Perhaps it wasn’t right, but it was mine. And with everything in me, I believed I was using it to protect my people and become the best ruler for them that I could be.
Pain consumes me in the form of the scream I take out on the nearest pillow. When I pull back from it, scarlet blood has marred the pillow’s pristine white surface. I press my palm against the fabric and smear the blood even further.
My magic has to be somewhere close. But where?
“Amora?”
I flinch. Sunlight floods through the crack in the door and covers the floor like a rug. I glare at it, eyes burning.
“Get out.” The last I saw the others was to tell them the truth of the Montara curse. I remember the horror on their faces. Their pity. Even thinking of it now is more than I can handle.
The door shuts, but someone continues to watch me. With a snarl ready on my lips, I twist around, ready to let them feel the extent of my anger. But when I see the satchel Bastian’s holding in his hands, I can’t maintain it. A sob threatens to rattle my core, but I slam it away behind the barriers of my empty heart.
“Get that away from me.” I want to snatch the satchel from his hands and throw it against the wall over and over until every bone and tooth inside has shattered. Instead, I wind my arms around my waist and dip my head.
That’s not my magic he’s holding. It’s only a sad reminder of my failure.
Ferrick stands beside Bastian. His shadow grabs the dim light of the oil lamp and shifts from foot to foot in an uncomfortable dance.
Bastian’s shadow is less anxious. It’s steady and confident as it makes its way to my side. A firm hand sets atop my shoulder.
“We need to talk.” His words hold no room for disagreement. He forces my chin up until I’m left glaring at him, needing him to leave.
I’ve failed the Zudians I made a promise to.
I couldn’t help the Kers. Even my soldiers have turned on me.
Visidia deserves better than me, so why can’t he leave me alone?
“Have you noticed how slowly Keel Haul sails?” Bastian asks quietly.
My palms throb with pain as I ignore him. I clench them into fists and tuck them beneath me, head spinning.
Bastian’s hazel eyes sharpen as he closes the space between us and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. There’s less yellow in them today, the stars dimmed. Ferrick remains behind him, as if uncertain whether he’s welcome to do the same.
“It’s because my curse was broken, Amora.” The words are hardly a whisper as Bastian tries to lean in to catch my stare. As the breath catches in my throat, I let him have it. “When you burned those charms of his, you freed me. Keel Haul is a regular ship, again. And my magic is back, too.” The words freeze me, seizing hold of my heart. For a moment there’s hope, but it sizzles sharply away.
“It’s … not exactly working,” Bastian admits. “But I know it’s there. I can feel it, like a fire inside me. I can’t reach it, yet; I’ve forgotten how. But my magic is back, and I promise we’re going to get yours back, too.”
I sharpen my gaze into daggers that pierce into him. “Don’t come in here spewing false hope when Visidia’s in danger. I’ve failed, and now my kingdom will pay the price. I left those people for dead back in Zudoh.”
“It’s not false hope.” The voice belongs to Ferrick, who finally moves to stand beside me. “We should have time for Bastian to relearn his magic. Kaven was severely injured; he’ll need a while to recover before traveling. We can warn the king, and then if Bastian can learn to use magic against his brother, we could still win this fight.”
I toss my head back and a vicious laugh escapes me. “Because it will be that easy? Because someone who hasn’t had magic since they were a child can take on someone who’s mastered it? Whose curse magic goes beyond anything we’ve ever seen?”
“Kaven won’t be in great shape after that fight,” Bastian argues. “We can use that to our advantage, to overpower him, or—”
“It doesn’t matter what shape he’s in!” The harshness of my words causes both boys to tense in surprise. “He won’t give us time to prepare. He’ll strike the second he’s able to.”
Bastian starts to say something, but Ferrick grabs his shoulder. “There’s no point talking to her like this.” There’s a cold judgment in his words that snags my skin and caves my insides. Even bundled in the sheets and curled into the warmth of a bed, I shudder.
“I have no idea who you are, right now.” Ferrick’s glare traps me. “I don’t know who this fearful, empty thing is, but you’re better than this. You were cursed, not killed. You made a promise back in Zudoh, and those people are trusting you not to give up. We can still do this.”
When I turn my head away, Ferrick brushes past Bastian and grabs hold of my hands, ignoring the blood on my palms. He ducks his head until he’s staring at me, face stony and impassive.
“You are Amora Montara,” he says, awakening something inside me. A tiny match still waiting for its flame. “Now it’s time you stopped hiding down here, and start acting like the ruler you are. Tell me what you want us to do.”
I reach for that flame, but it snuffs out the moment it’s in my grasp. I rip my hands away from him.
“Without my magic, I’m useless.” The words tear through me. “I have nothing. I am nothing.”
These boys want me to stand tall and proud with the belief that we’ll win. But they don’t see how badly I’ve already failed. How I fled my home to save my people from the lie of practicing multiple magics, but am returning only with their destruction.
I’ve nothing to offer, and no way to save Visidia. I should have stayed home and accepted my death. Perhaps then, Kaven never would have had a chance to assemble a fleet.
“I can’t be the girl you two want me to be.” I push myself from the bed, hands stinging with a sharp pain as they brush against the sheets. “Not anymore.”
I make my way to the stairs, far away from the pressure of their fantasies, because I can’t take it.
One more look from them is all it would take for me to crumble.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I find no solace in the early fall breeze that snakes around me, seeping salt into my pores. The end of summer has finally arrived.
I’ve cleaned my hands, but the briny air bit
es into my palms and stings. It’s a sharp reminder of the darkness I can’t seem to claw my way out of. The sea may be helping, but when I clamp my eyes shut and breathe, there’s still emptiness where my magic should be coiled, waiting to spring.
A presence stirs behind me, and though I know I’m safe on Keel Haul, instinctively I reach for the satchel and dagger I keep at my waist. But my hands come up empty and the hollowness in my belly inflates. I suck in a breath and shove my fisted hands into my sides.
Casem is beside me. He keeps his head low and his shoulders slouched forward, as if he’s already being scolded. Over two weeks have passed since we were in Arida, but it’s as though, instead of providing him with life, the sun has leached it all from his body. His once-large frame has thinned and withered with the exhaustion he carries on his slumped shoulders. He wears the pain of it in his cool blue eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says without prompting. He grips the ledge of Keel Haul to support himself, knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip. “When my father suggested I come with him, I was doing it because I wanted to find you and make sure you were safe.” He turns to me, but I keep my focus on the sea, watching as turquoise waves crash against the ship and morph into a soft white foam as they recede. Casem draws his hands closer together on the ledge and scrapes at the cuticles of his right thumb, worrying at the skin.
“What good would that have done?” I huff. “I could have been executed if I stayed.”
Casem’s face twists. “You never heard? Amora, they were going to give you another chance. We all pleaded your case, including your aunt; she told everyone she wasn’t fit to be Animancer. They were planning to bring another prisoner up, for you to try again. But none of us could find you.”
I expect his words to gut me. To shred me and destroy any light I had left, because what’s one more knife when you’ve already been stabbed by a dozen?
Instead, the words make me pause as realization strikes—my people were going to give me another chance.
The weight of that knowledge sears hot in my chest. I dig my fingers into the ledge of the ship, steadying myself.
Not all of them wanted me dead, or thought me too dangerous. They were going to give me another chance.
“I had no idea what my father’s real plan was when I left to look for you, I swear,” Casem continues when I say nothing. “I found out on the way to Ikae. If I’d known sooner, I would’ve never gone with them. I would have told the king. I care too much about you to do something this cruel. And not only you, but Mira. I would never want to put her in danger. You know this, Amora. I just … I need you to believe me.”
I recall Casem’s face behind the window in Ikae, and the panic in his expression as he chased after me on the docks. Then I think back to the soldiers accompanying him that night.
I can understand the Kers who joined up with Kaven. But my own soldiers? The father of my friend and guard, who helped train me for years?
The fact that these people want me dead hurts more than they’ll ever know.
“I believe you were clueless,” I say, recalling how hurriedly he’d tried to get the others away from me and on the wrong path. “But why did you do it? You could have left. You could have found a way to warn me, or stop them.”
“They would have killed me.” He dips his head like a scolded pup. “I don’t think even my father would hesitate to. I knew he always envied your father’s power deep down, but I guess I never realized the extent of it. He presented me with the truth after you fled Arida, wanting me to join him. I figured that if I did, it would at least give me a chance to learn their plan and attack when the time was right. Or wait for an opening to escape. I knew it was a risk, but by the gods, I never thought it would end up like this.”
The idea of their soul magic alone has me grinding my teeth. To be able to curse someone’s soul for an eternity is a far crueler punishment than ending their life or causing temporary pain.
Kaven must be stopped, but how? Without my magic, I’m useless against him.
“How many are we up against?” I ask. “How strong is their magic?”
“We’re up against nearly half of Kerost and Zudoh,” he answers honestly. “And as for their magic, they’re strong … but there’s some good news I think you’ll like to hear.”
I draw back at the small, hopeful smile on his lips.
“The curse in Montara blood isn’t meant for others,” he says. “When people try to learn it, it slowly destroys their souls, warping them. Most who trigger soul magic are unable to use it, and are destroyed in the process. Though there are a rare few who have managed to learn it, like Kaven, he stopped forcing it on his followers years ago, because it kept failing and his numbers were dwindling. People only try to learn it by choice, and there are only a handful who have succeeded.”
I press my lips together and from the corner of my eye catch sight of Bastian descending the rigging. The sight of him strikes my heart fierce as a knife.
He moves to the ship’s helm and grips it tight in one hand, steering. Glancing down at a compass, he adjusts the helm, again, purposely avoiding my stare.
Vataea leans over the ledge behind him, chanting over the waves as if trying to work her magic on them. Her lips are pursed and her sweat-slicked brows fret with annoyance. Every now and then she manages to lift a wave a little higher than normal, but it’s nothing like the magic I hear she pulled off back in Zudoh.
Ferrick’s between them, trying to do whatever it is that needs to be done, and I jerk my focus away from them as a knot of bitterness coils within me. Everyone is trying except for me.
“The pirate’s still adjusting to his curse being broken,” Casem says. “And we don’t have much of a crew, especially with you and Vataea both having been out for a few days. I’ve been trying to use my magic to manipulate the air and bloat the sails, but this ship is too heavy for me to move. We all thought Vataea would be able to help us sail faster when she woke up, but saving us back in Zudoh took a lot out of her. She was … incredible.” His eyes wander to her for a moment, and in his awe, I remember vague flashes of the sea parting around us. Of being surrounded by walls of dead fish and algae, but never touched by it. I know I should thank her for saving us, but there’s a kernel of bitterness that wishes she’d left me behind to sink.
“We’re finally on the right track. It’s taken a while to get anywhere.” Casem points to the vibrant water, and to the school of yellow and blue fish that flank us. With water this clear and bright, we must be somewhere between Mornute and Arida. We’ll be home before nightfall.
A wave of relief fills me, but I smother it quickly. Casem notices, frowning deeply.
“Amora?”
I shake my head. “I’ve no right to return home.”
“That’s exactly what I used to think after I first left Zudoh.” The words stop me cold. I’ve no idea when Bastian appeared behind me, but he stands there now with his chin lifted high and his eyes hard.
“For years I refused to return to Zudoh because I was afraid to face everyone,” he says. “I felt responsible for the destruction of my home. For the murder of my parents and so many others, all because of my brother. It ate me alive. I hid because I was afraid, and if you turn your back on Visidia now, you’ll be doing the same thing.”
Bastian’s words are like needles as I swallow them down, because every single one of them is true.
Slowly, hesitantly, he draws a step closer. When I don’t flinch away, he takes another. My hands ignite when he takes them in his, and it’s like I can breathe again. “You helped me face my fears, and showed me not to run. So don’t you dare say you or I shouldn’t be here, Amora. This is exactly where we need to be. There are people counting on us. We can do this.” They’re nearly the same words I said to him, and they strike hard.
I see Raya’s angry face, older and wiser than it should have to be at her age. I see the time-warped hands and exhausted wrinkles of those back in Kerost. I see Sira
, who showed me the way my kingdom is meant to be.
Finally, I see the people in Zudoh who dipped their heads to me and, for the first time, offered me their trust.
If we don’t hurry to warn my people, it could be the end for my kingdom. And it will certainly be the end of those Zudians.
The match in my soul catches the flame, considering it. It doesn’t flare, but it sparks—just once—with a promise that perhaps one day it might burn brightly again. When I reach out for the warmth this time, it’s distant, but it’s there. I have to cling on to it.
The loss of my magic is a void that I’ll never be okay with. But I can’t hide from my fate. My life is Visidia’s, as it has always been and will always be.
Ferrick and Vataea stand close, listening. I turn my attention to Ferrick, who offers a small but wavering smile. My lips don’t feel right mirroring the movement, so I nod instead in silent thanks for his support. Then I look up at the pirate, whose jaw is a hard line as he stares down at me. When I wrap my fingers around his hand and squeeze once, his shoulders fall and his body relaxes. He drops his forehead onto the top of my head, words muffled in my curls. “We’ll do this together.”
I press my head against his chest, keeping my eyes shut tight so that no tears can escape. But no longer is it just his arms around me. It’s Ferrick, too. Then Vataea. Casem. All of them hug me tight, and I’m rendered useless against the tears.
Bastian once asked me why I didn’t just find a crew and save myself. But what he didn’t realize was that I’d already found them—this is my crew, and I hold them tight. “We’ll do this together. All of us.”
The others peel away, and I’m left looking up into Bastian’s hazel eyes. He’s warm and smells of brine, and for a moment I wish I never had to move. That we could stay like this forever, pretending my kingdom wasn’t about to be in a war. Because when he touches me, it’s like I’m myself again, if only for a moment.
But there’s no time for fantasies, and I’m not sure my soul could handle another broken one. I peel myself away, square my shoulders, and force myself to become Amora Montara, the Princess of Visidia once more.