by Adalyn Grace
He pulls me back the moment the Ker touches the shoulders of one of her Zudian partners—a male whose movements speed up dramatically. I can barely keep up with the strikes of the Zudian’s blade, but fortunately the Curmanan is prepared for them.
She ducks and falls back, using levitation to tear her opponent’s sword from his hands. The Zudian lunges in a quick counterattack, so fast that his body is a blur thanks to the aid of his companion’s magic. But the Curmanan has reversed the sword in the air, so the tainted black tip points toward the Zudian.
She pushes her hands forward, and because the man is moving too quickly to stop himself, he falls with a yelp as the sword pierces through his chest, body spasming as thick lines of poison lick their way across his skin and paint it gray.
Meanwhile, the Valukan man runs his hands through one of the torches that lights the hall, now wielding its flame in his grasp. When the remaining attackers strike, the Valukan shoves the fire into their opponents’ chests.
“They’ve got it handled,” Bastian says. “Let’s keep moving.”
We bound around the fight and head into the washing room, where several Valukans with the affinity for water stand ready beside the basins. My breath hitches when I see Mother is among them.
Rarely have I seen her use her Valukan magic offensively; she’s never had a reason to. Yet when the Valukans see us approach, water lashes around Mother like a hungry, fierce weapon. I reel back at the vicious tides, cursing the pain in my knee. Only when she sees my face does Mother suck in a breath, the water slamming back down into the basin.
“Amora!” She rushes forward and throws her arms around me tightly. I grit my teeth against the pain her touch elicits, and bury my face in her thick curls as she drags me into her. “You’re safe.” Her body trembles with the sobs she’s holding in, trying to keep strong for the others. “By the gods, you’re safe.”
I clutch her tightly, breathing a sigh of relief into her neck. She smells of blood and brine, and her touch is as desperate as mine. I have to force myself to pull away; she doesn’t want to let go, and I wish I didn’t have to.
“You need to get to the safe room,” I tell her as I draw back. “Take as many with you as you can, but don’t try to fight unless you have to. You need to go hide—”
“Princess?” a voice says weakly.
My knees nearly crumble as I turn to see Mira, who lies against one of the basins with a white-knuckled hand clutching the corner of it. A Suntosan healer in an emerald robe is on his knees beside her, his hands covered with blood as he presses them against her stomach. I know Ferrick’s busy helping those who fought on the beach, but I immediately wish him here to help her. I can barely breathe when I look at her.
She’s been stabbed, as have several other servants who lie beside her. One of them doesn’t move.
Casem is on his knees beside Mira, cradling her head in his hands. Her skin sheens with sweat, and the Suntosan healing her wears a grim expression of tight lips and worried brows.
“The throne room,” Mira whispers feebly. Her eyes are glazed when she tries to look at me, and it nearly kills me. She touches the healer’s hand and shakily points to me. “Her knee.”
“Touch my knee and you’ll be sorry,” I snarl when the healer makes a move toward me. Mira opens her mouth to protest, but I fix the healer in a firm glare and nod back to Mira. “You heal her. Now.”
The light in Mira’s eyes is dimming, and I won’t let her die. My injuries are bad, but they’re not life-threatening. I can still move. I can still fight.
When I turn to her, Mother’s lips press together. Her eyes are wet, and their emotion betrays her. She doesn’t want me to go, but we both know there’s no choice. As far as she knows, I still have my magic.
“They have your father,” she says, her words tight. “Go, Amora. Hurry. I’ll get as many as I can to safety.”
I nod, but no matter how quickly I need to go, I struggle to pull my eyes away from the thin veil of sweat that sits atop Mira’s skin and pools in the tiny crevice below her collarbone. The fear that knits Mother’s brows and her shaking hands nearly destroy me.
What have my people had to suffer, because I could not stop this attack back in Zudoh?
When I face Kaven again, I won’t make the same mistake twice.
I turn so the healer can focus on Mira, and kiss Mother’s cheek.
“Protect them,” I tell her. “And stay safe, no matter what that takes. I’ll be back soon.”
I can’t linger any longer. I drag Bastian behind me and snatch a torch from its holder on the wall, leaving Mira with Casem and my mother.
We ascend the staircase to the highest level, panting and exhausted, but never stopping. Not until we reach the ornate gold doors that lead into the throne room and hear the clap of an explosion behind it. The ground shakes from the impact and I grab hold of Bastian’s shoulder to stabilize myself. My shoulder seizes from the pain of the movement, but I bury it down somewhere deep beneath my adrenaline to be dealt with later.
Magic. The only thing that could cause that big of an explosion is magic.
Bastian’s throat tightens as he swallows. His gaze slips to me, asking an unspoken question: Are you ready?
I nod, and we throw the doors open.
Hot air welcomes us like death. My torch is unnecessary; the room is bathed in fire. Thank the gods for the rain outside, for it’s likely the only reason Arida is still standing.
Flames lick the walls and feed on the plush sapphire rug, burrowing into it and consuming it whole. My throat aches, struggling to find oxygen that’s been stolen by the ravenous fire. The windowless back wall is the only reason we can still breathe.
Father’s positioned in the corner, and relief floods through me when I see he’s still alive. His broad chest heaves with gasps, and one side of his face is stained crimson from the blood that spills from a profound gash on his forehead. His trembling hands wrap around a handful of bones, and when he spots me at the entrance, his chest caves. His head shakes furiously.
“LEAVE!” he yells, voice desperate.
I refuse. Wielding both daggers in either hand, I charge inside.
Kaven’s shirt is stuck to his bloodied chest, telling me Father’s put up a good fight. His dark eyes are rimmed with silver sharp as steel when he whirls to me. In place of the arm I took from him, he has bandages wrapped tight at the stub of his elbow.
“Have you come to see the king atone for his sins?” The question snakes its way through my skin and makes me shudder. “Poor little Montaras, so focused on being stronger than everyone else. Always so worried about being overthrown. For centuries you’ve put yourselves ahead of your people, destroying our homes and hoarding magic. That ends tonight.”
Kaven holds his sword by the blade. It slices into his palm and blood coats the metal quickly. But it’s Father who screams as his palms peel open, bleeding. I stand frozen, numb.
As Bastian was anchored to Keel Haul, Kaven’s cursed my father to be anchored to him.
It’s for protection; without the cursed bands I destroyed, his power’s been weakened. By binding my father to him, Kaven’s guaranteed I’ll never touch him; killing him would mean destroying Father’s soul.
The pain in Father’s scream spears through me, but I force it away to focus. Kaven’s magic may be strong, but it’s not limitless. I summon my strength and brandish my daggers, closing the space between myself and Kaven. I eye his wrist for a bracelet—for his connection to my curse and Father’s—but his skin is bare.
Bastian shifts to my side, tense as he eyes his brother. He grips his pommel tight. “We’re going to do this,” he whispers, more to himself than to me. “We’re going to end this.”
“We’re not going to do a thing until we break his connection to my father,” I tell him. “I need you to stall.”
He nods as Kaven turns to us and spits blood onto the floor. “Hello again, little brother.” His teeth gleam red. “How’s the new cu
rse treating you?”
Bastian falters, forehead wrinkling. But when Kaven grins, Bastian shakes it off and points his sword ahead of him.
“There’s still time to back down, Kaven,” Bastian says, his grip firm and sword unwavering. “No one else has to die.”
His brother shakes his head, half of his face shadowed by the flames. “I’ve come too far to let it end here. Visidia deserves better than a monarchy of liars and thieves. You’re the one who still has time to back down; we can end the Montaras together, and share this magic with all. No more laws. No more division.”
My hands shake as I clench Rukan tight, though I know I can’t bring myself to use the blade. Not while Kaven still uses Father as his shield.
Bastian steps in front of me, putting himself between me and his brother. “Get your father out of here.”
Kaven’s lips flatten as his silver eyes narrow. “That’s your decision, then? After everything the Montaras did to us, you choose to protect her?”
“She’s more than her blood,” Bastian growls. “And I am more than mine. You’re the reason our parents are dead, Kaven. You’re the reason our home is destroyed. I spent years dreaming that things could return to normal one day, and that you might realize your mistakes and put an end to this chaos. But you killed that dream, and buried it deep as those whose blood you’ve spilled. It’s time we end this.”
Bastian strikes.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The clash of steel roars through the air.
The further the flames build, the more my vision blurs and my throat squeezes. Fire licks at my feet, nipping my leather boots. I kick the flames away and run to Father, who chokes on thick smoke.
If we want to stay alive, we need to get out of here.
Father’s satchel has fallen beside him, scattering bones onto the floor. He’s clearly tried his magic against Kaven, and I don’t need to ask to understand the outcome. It’s like Bastian and Keel Haul—hurt the ship and Bastian feels it, but hit Bastian and the ship goes on as if nothing’s happened. Just like the ship, Kaven is immune to the effects of the curse while Father suffers.
Father isn’t strong enough to grit through the pain of harming himself when he tries to attack Kaven. It’s likely he’s holding back, because anything Kaven feels, Father feels. Where Kaven bleeds, Father bleeds. Part of Father’s soul lives within Kaven.
I crouch down beside him and try to wrap my arms around Father’s broad body, throwing all my strength into helping him straighten.
“Go,” I yell, pushing him toward the door. “Go! We need to get you somewhere safe.”
Every breath he takes comes in a tight wheeze. I try to push him away, but Father snags hold of my hand. His eyes are molten brown, fearful and earnest. They pool with tears as he blinks through the smoke and looks up at me.
“I’ve failed you,” he begins, though his words are cut off by a vicious cough that rattles his entire body.
“Later,” I tell him. “We don’t have time.” My chest shakes with the effort of trying to drag Father away; he’s dead weight.
“You’re right,” is all he whispers. I’m ready to yell. Ready to jab my dagger into the back of his leg and force him out. But the moment our eyes meet, my vision clouds white as Father strikes his palm straight into my chest.
I reel back, lungs emptying.
Somehow, the two of us are no longer in the throne room, but standing alone in a tainted white-gray void. There are no fires in this strange, endless space. No smacks of steel, and no bleeding bodies. Only Father, who stands tall before me.
I peer down at my palms. The blood that stained them has disappeared, as have my injuries. I’ve never seen magic like this. “What did you—”
“As you said, we don’t have much time.” Father reaches his hand out and I step toward him, letting his calloused hand cup my chin. His rich brown eyes search my soul, brows knitting as he seeks something he will not find.
“Kaven told me what he did,” Father whispers, “but I never believed it could be true.”
I draw back, and his hand falls to his side, still. All of the rage I’ve buried festers, boiling within me until I can no longer contain it.
“We could have stopped him.” The words tumble out of me, knotted with rage. “You knew the truth of our magic years ago, and you did nothing. Why? We could have prevented all of this.”
This strange place agitates my skin and strengthens the rage within me. Gray smoke curls around a plane of white, as if choking it. It’s airless, still and suffocating.
Sorrow holds Father by the shoulders. I struggle to look at his pain. It’s too raw. Too overwhelming.
“That’s why I’ve failed you. I never wanted you to see me as a fearful king.” Somehow his voice is calm. “But that’s precisely what I’ve been. As strong as our magic is, we’re no match for the kingdom as a whole, and we’d be even less of a match if Arida’s magic was divided. I tried to quiet Zudoh and keep them at bay without Visidia realizing what I was doing.”
Part of me wants to cover my ears, or cover his mouth so he can’t say another word. Because all my life, I’ve wanted to make my father proud. I wanted to be just like him.
The King of Visidia. The High Animancer.
My father.
But he’s not the man I thought he was. The man before me is a coward, not a king.
“My father often told me that, one day, someone would try to come for our power,” he continues. “He taught me to prove myself as an animancer, just as you were meant to do the night of your birthday, and then to never draw too much attention to my magic again; to practice my skills, but only ever demonstrate them to the prisoners executed late at night when all of Arida sleeps. He taught me to be strong, but to rule from afar, just as his father did before him. If I didn’t interfere with Visidia too much, the islands were supposed to take care of themselves. I was only to step up and be loud when there was something I could easily do to further my glory.”
Like protecting the mermaids.
“What about Kerost?” I ask. “I’ve been there, Father. I’ve seen the damage done. If you knew, how could you not help them?” A moment ago I was hot with rage, yet my body has thoroughly numbed in this place. The echo of our voices is the only sound to fill the abyss, and slowly I begin to understand where Father’s taken me.
This is soul magic far beyond anything I can do. Somehow, he’s tamed his magic enough to bring me here, into the personal space of his own soul.
I stare around the abyss—at the stark white plumes that seek to shred his soul apart and leave nothing but emptiness in their wake—and wonder if this is what my own soul looks like. Shredded and peeling, but still pretending to be whole.
“They wanted to learn Valukan magic, Amora. If we permitted that, then others would begin to practice whichever magic they’d like.” His voice trembles on its hinges, as though he’s struggling to maintain a hold on his words. As though he’s struggling to maintain belief in them. “The people would grow stronger than us. We’d open ourselves up to anarchy.”
“We could learn other magics, too,” I argue. “If our family has always been worried about not being strong enough to rule, then perhaps we’re onto something.” I grind my feet into the solid nothingness beneath me, hating what he admits. Hating that, despite it all, I’d still hoped that he would have had an honorable reason for what he had done. That he could still be who I believed he was.
“You told me we kept Arida’s magic to ourselves because it was dangerous.” Each word grinds out of my throat, raw and painful. “You said we were supposed to keep others from studying multiple magics because it would corrupt their souls, not because we’re afraid of our own people being strong. How much of my life was a lie, Father? Tell me the truth—did you know all this time how Aridian magic truly came to be? Did you know about Cato?”
Finally, he looks at me, but it’s not with the harshness I was expecting. Father’s lips lift into a smile, though the ends o
f them wilt with sadness he fails to hide.
“I did,” he admits. Two words, and it’s like he’s struck me across the face. “I told you already, I’ve been a fearful ruler, avoiding issues until they knocked on my door. This is why I kept you on Arida for all these years. I never wanted you to see what I had done.
“You’ve always been dutiful,” he continues, “and smart as a whip. I knew if I took you with me to travel, it wouldn’t be long until you figured out my secrets. And I was right.” All traces of a smile are gone. Father closes the space between us and takes one of my fallen curls, tucking it behind my ear. “The only thing I’ve done right by Visidia is give them you—my fearless, relentless daughter. I gave them a powerful animancer; a princess who will rule this kingdom with the bravery I could never find.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Kaven cursed me. I’m magicless. Visidia deserves someone who can take care of them. Who will keep them safe. They deserve better than either of us.”
He laughs. It’s a gentle sound that tears through the abyss and eats at its corners. The edges of our constructed world begin to fade. Heat prickles at my skin.
“My brilliant girl, magicless or not, you are here. You fight for this kingdom. You bleed for this kingdom.” Father touches my hands, and I draw them back with a wince. Blood once again mars my scarred palms. “They deserve more than me, you’re right. But you? You were made to rule Visidia, as I was made to give you a kingdom.”
“I don’t want it.” The words rip out of me, as though they’re tearing my own soul. I don’t know if they’re a lie or the truth, but they burn deep in my chest. “Our blood destroyed Visidia! How am I to rule a kingdom we’ve built by destroying others?” My voice falters. “I can’t forgive you for this.”
Father’s shoulders wither, though his gentle smile holds firm. “I have not been a fair king, but now it’s time for me to be a good one.” Tilting my chin up, Father presses a kiss to my forehead. The touch sears into my skin as if branding me. “I know you’ll take care of this kingdom, and I know you’ll be brave. I love you, my daughter, more than you will ever know, and I am sorry this burden must come to you so soon. But there’s only one way to help you win this fight. It’s time I finally did something right.