All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) (25 page)

“Yes, you do.” The pain in his eyes is the same that I feel. “If I can’t forgive you for one mistake, then how can I expect Visidia to forgive the Montaras for a lifetime of lies? Take the forgiveness, and know that from this point on, we’re truly in this together. I understand the choice you made, Bastian. I understand it better than anyone.”

I press my lips to his, and at first the kiss is tender. But as tears begin to wet his cheeks, that tenderness gives way to something raw and passionate. Something almost desperate.

When Bastian knots his fingers into the back of my curls, his touch is electricity. I shiver each time his thumb strokes the back of my neck.

Falling back in the cot, I make fists in his shirt and pull his body on top of mine. His lips are rum sweet as I drink him in, nodding permission when his fingers hesitate at the edge of my tunic. When his hazel eyes catch mine, my body ignites.

Bastian’s hands are warm and rough as they slip beneath my tunic, roaming the skin of my stomach. Exploring the curves of my hips.

My eyes flutter shut as his lips find my neck. He alternates between peppering soft kisses and gentle bites. I hold him to me, one hand wrapped around his back and the other curled tight in his chestnut waves.

I want this.

I want
him
.

There’s a heat in my belly that pushes me forward, guiding
my fingers to the buttons of his shirt. He makes no complaint as I fumble to undo them. The moment it’s off, he slides down so that his lips are on my hip bone and I have to grip the cot to steady myself as they rove lower and lower, until he’s kissing the skin of my thighs.

His fingers slide beneath the band of my pants and I tense, not realizing I’ve hardly been breathing this whole time.

Bastian pauses immediately, warm eyes flickering to mine as he draws back up and plants a tender kiss to my lips. It’s the taste of rum on them that spurs me back into reality. I pull back quickly, drawing heavy breaths. My body is too aware of him; every inch of me that he’s touched burns with desire.

“Are you okay?” Bastian asks urgently, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. “We don’t have to do anything, Amora. We can stop.”

“I don’t want to stop.” I catch his hand in mine and draw it to my lips, kissing his palm. His fingers. Knuckles. “But we need to. You’re drunk, Bastian.”

“It was only a few drinks,” he protests, peeling his grip away to kiss my neck once more. “I’m fine.”

Despite how much I might want it, I press my hands to his chest and ease him back. “We’ll have other chances,” I tell him calmly. “Hopefully many more. But tonight isn’t one of them.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it with a quiet sigh. Gently, he eases himself off me, sitting on his knees at the edge of the cot. My body aches with the missing weight of him. I feel too light. Too cold.

Slowly I set my hand on his thigh. He takes it with a smile.

“I couldn’t do any of this without you, you know.” He squeezes my hand gently. “I want you to know that I’m incredibly thankful for you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re a pirate, Bastian Bargas.” I smile when his lips crack at the name. “You would have found a way.”

He slips his fingers free and pulls me into a gentle hug. It lasts for only a moment before he eases away. He doesn’t look back at me until his hand is on the door. “It’s Altair, by the way. Bastian Altair.” And then he laughs, a soft and quiet sound. “Stars, I haven’t said that name in ages. It … feels good.”

In my cot, I smile as the door shuts behind him.

Only Zale sees us off as we sneak away early the next morning, and we make our way deep into the woods as the sun rises. For the past hour, these woods have tried only to devour us.

The white birch trees are dampened with the early morning mist that’s rolled in from the shore. The farther into it we plunge, the more they consume. Overgrown roots grab at me, bruising and cutting my ankles, attempting to wrench me into the earth. Below us, the ground is covered with soot that coats my boots black.

My weapon can’t help us here. Its poison is too powerful to waste on naughty trees. A breeze shifts through the branches and they rustle, as if laughing at me.

“I’m trying to
help
you,” I growl at the island, tripping over dead bramble and broken twigs. The trees here are the same
white birch as the ones from Zale’s camp, but they’re thinner. Weaker, and normal.

Vataea trails carefully behind me, mimicking my movements to avoid injury while Ferrick grimaces and grunts beside me, smacking away sharp branches.

“Ferrick, Amora, wait—”

I trip on soot when I turn toward Vataea’s voice, barely able to catch myself on a stump.

In front of me, a small black fox pokes its head out from behind one of the trees. It’s the first sign of life I’ve seen on this side of the island since we arrived in the woods probably an hour ago. I still, watching as the creature slowly eases out from behind the thin tree, its curious golden eyes never wavering from mine. Shadows fan out around its feet and wrap around the beast. I draw a step back when I see them, breath catching in my throat.

“Bastian?” I ask, daring to look away long enough to check over my shoulders. “Vataea?”

But no one’s there.

I stumble back as the space around me stretches farther into darkness, dragging me with it. The trees are at least a mile away, now. Figures weave in and out of them, calling my name.

But the voices are a warped echo that alert the hairs on my neck and force my breaths to come in gasps.

“Amoraaa…” they call, both a whisper and a shout. “Amoraaa?”

I twist so I’m on my knees and try to drag my shaking body back to a stand. But the moment I’m back on my feet, I wish the earth would have swallowed me whole just as it did the trees.

The fox looms over me, massive on its hind legs. Its face is sharp and pointed, black ears poking out from the hood of
a sapphire cape. Its golden eyes rove my body, and when they settle on my face again, a jagged row of teeth gleams at me.

“Are you lost?” the fox asks, its breath foul as it heats my cheeks. “Why don’t I help you find your way?”

It leaps into the air, and though every part of me knows I should move, I only watch as the fox twists its body. Its mouth stretches. Stretches. Stretches.

And it swallows me whole.

The darkness morphs into blinding white light as I jerk to my feet, gasping desperately for air.

No longer am I surrounded by trees; there’s nothing but the beautiful red sand of Arida, and a figure waiting for me on the beach.

Though his back is turned to me, I recognize Father by his crown—the skull of a legendary Valuna eel, with rows of sharp teeth stretching above his forehead and around his jaw, while a spine of jewel-encrusted bones glides down his back.

“Father?” I try to say, but the words burn my throat as sand fills it, choking me. It comes out my nose. My eyes. I fall to my knees, silently begging Father to turn to me.

Look at me. Please. You have to help me.

My vision swims. I grab on to my tongue, thinking perhaps I can dig the sand out myself. But I can’t control my hand. It blips in my vision, first by my side, then at my throat. On my tongue again.

I try to scream, and though no sound comes out, Father turns to me slowly.

Only Father doesn’t have golden eyes or rows of bloodied teeth.

The fox wears his crown. His cape. And it smiles at me, eyes glinting as it draws forward, growing twice its size with every step.

It freezes only as something strikes my face. The fox whips its head to the side and growls.

I see nothing that could have struck me, yet I’m knocked back a step. The fox whimpers and shrinks to half its size.

Amora!

The sand no longer burns my eyes. It drains from my throat, and I can breathe again.

The fox snaps its giant eyes to me. “I can’t help you unless you let me,” it whispers, trying to crawl closer. But I finally find my legs again, and kick myself back against the sand.

Focus, Amora! You need to focus!

I squint my eyes shut, and see a glimpse of Bastian and Ferrick standing over me.

When I open my eyes again, it’s the fox, the heat of its gaping mouth on my face.

Focus!

I dig my fists into the sand, suck in a breath, and slam my eyes shut as the fox lunges for me again.

The world spins and warps back into focus as thousands of birch trees sprout around me. I suck in desperate breaths, body shaking as I try to find my focus. The trees stretch impossibly high, covering the sky with their thin but bountiful branches. They’re all I see, but gentle hands smooth over my forehead.

“Is she okay?” I recognize the desperate voice as Ferrick’s. He’s somewhere beside me.

“She will be,” Bastian answers, closer. “Stars, Princess. It’s almost as though you
like
being cursed.”

I swallow, heartbeat slowing thanks to the gentle fingers that comb soothingly through my hair. When I manage to focus and dip my head back, Vataea frowns down at me.

“Sorry,” she says. “This place is riddled with tricks. I stopped Ferrick, but I couldn’t get to you in time.” She helps me ease onto my feet, both Bastian and Ferrick in front of me with their hands out, ready to help.

“I hate these woods,” I growl, and though my words are bitter, they seem to put everyone at ease. The lines of worry in Ferrick’s forehead smooth themselves, and though Bastian drips with sweat, he seems to stand a little steadier.

“Did it get you, too?” I ask as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“No, I’m just tired.” He doesn’t need to elaborate that it’s because of how far we’re traveling from
Keel Haul
. Bastian tugs his shirt away from his chest, fanning himself. And even now, when danger breathes down our necks, heat stirs within me and I struggle to take my eyes off him, remembering the way his skin felt beneath my fingertips last night. “What did you see?”

I think back to the fox that stood looming over me in Father’s crown and cape, and shiver. “A fox,” is all I say, not wanting to remember the details.

The tension in Bastian’s jaw loosens as he nods. “Foxes are tricksters. Sounds like it’s an advanced curse, one that’s made to take advantage of the victim’s biggest fears. Honestly, I’m surprised you escaped the curse at all. Let alone so quickly…” His voice trails off as he side-eyes me.

Unlike him, I’m less concerned with how I got out of the curse than I am about what the curse showed me: Father, a monster in disguise. I swallow hard.

As we journey deeper into the woods, a smattering of homes spreads out before us, tiny cabins surrounded by dead trees. Though the place looks desolate, smoke lifts from a fire pit that sits between cabins. The fire itself has been snuffed out, but the coals still burn hot.

It’s clear this land was once beautiful; it sits at the base of a mountain, with the roar of a nearby waterfall offering a peaceful ambience. The buildings are similar to the one on the main shore—white and sleek, with large glass windows.
Half of them have been burned away, while the others are in shambles with broken windows and peeling, rotting wood. I step toward one of them, and there’s a flash of movement in my periphery.

“Did any of you see that?” I ask, lowering my voice.

Though no one answers, they don’t question me. As Bastian shifts his gaze across the terrain I start to doubt myself, thinking maybe I’m still hallucinating from my curse when another flash of movement crosses the trees.

Bastian flinches; this time, he’s seen it. He grabs hold of my shirt and tugs me against him as something hot and sharp whizzes by my ear. It hisses as it passes, smacking into one of the houses behind us and striking the wood.

It’s a knife. Gooey, thick sap oozes from it and drips down the wood.

Poison.

Vataea readies her steel dagger with deft fingers, and I mirror the action by drawing my newest blade—Rukan. A name inspired by the jellyfish whose poison is said to cause the worst pain a person could ever experience.

I force every distraction away as five figures emerge, some of them jumping from the roofs while others encircle us from the sides. Their eyes gleam with calculation, bodies coiled with muscle. They wield strong weapons—knives, swords, and a dagger that looks to be made of bone.

I hold my poisonous blade tightly, ready.

One of the girls, a lithe blond who carries the bone dagger, rakes her hungry eyes over me.

I lift my blade to her in warning, and her eyes shift to examine its strange blue hue. If I were her, I’d be nervous to see such a strange weapon. If she’s smart, she’ll back away.

But she doesn’t.

I glance at Ferrick as the group surrounds us. He and
Vataea stand back to back, him with his rapier and her with the dagger.

“We’re here to talk to Kaven,” Vataea says. “Let us through.” Her words are greeted with immediate scorn as those surrounding us laugh. Vataea’s out of her element with a blade as her weapon instead of her voice, and she looks it.

“Let you through?” One of the men laughs. He’s hardly twenty and yet his voice is heavy with a rasp. “After what Visidia’s king did to our island? I don’t think so.”

“We want to help reconnect Zudoh to the kingdom,” I say, never looking away from the girl who clutches her blade before me. “But to do that, you have to work with us.”

The girl before me twitches her hands. I swathe my magic around me and immediately see the vengeance her soul craves with its entire being. Sensing danger, she coils tight and readies herself to spring.

“We don’t want your help,” she growls decidedly. Around her, the others hold their chins high in agreement.

“Drop your weapons and walk. We’ll see if Kaven has time for a chat.” She’s lying. I sense the very moment the girl decides to kill me because her soul turns a deep, muddy red—the color of congealed blood. The corners of it crack, threatening to peel.

In my mind, I see the blood of my first kill sliding down my fingertips. I remember the monster within me thrashing to life for the first time. And for a moment, I hesitate.

Perhaps I was a monster to kill her. Perhaps I was a monster to kill all of them.

But everything I’ve done, I’ve done with the goal of protecting Visidia. And I won’t be sorry for it any longer.

Perhaps a monster is exactly what this kingdom needs.

This girl has made her decision, and I’m not about to wait and let her strike first.

Clutching Rukan tight, I lunge forward and plunge my
blade deep into her stomach. Her eyes go wide and she sways, the blood swelling out of her and painting her shirt red. It’s a fatal wound, poison or not. Her green eyes go glassy. Blood dribbles from her lips down to her chin before she staggers and chokes on it. She falls a moment later, spasming on the ground.

The other four watch, stunned. I take her dropped bone dagger and clean it on my pants. This isn’t how I wanted it, but the faces of the Zudians from earlier sit at the forefront of my mind. I made a promise to protect them, and I intend to deliver.

One of the younger boys runs to my victim and falls to his knees. His body caves in, as though his entire spirit has been knocked from him. Blood covers his tan hands as he presses them to her chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

I wish it didn’t have to be like this, but they’ve made it clear they’ll never be on our side. I shove down my sympathy; if defeating them brings me one step closer to restoring balance in Visidia, then they’ve brought on a fight I’ve no intention of losing.

He slams his hands against her, shaking. But it’s pointless; she’s already dead.

“Amora,” Bastian growls under his breath, trying to back away. “We need to leave.”

Impossible. The other two boys and remaining woman ready their blades and charge.

With a weapon in each of my hands and their death in my satchel, I’m ready.

I strike out with Rukan again, finding resistance at the tip of my dagger as it snags and catches on skin. A male voice cries out, gruff and angry. He stumbles in my periphery, clutching his arm. I should focus on the others, yet I’m stuck staring as tiny blue lines crisscross and weave their way across the man’s skin.

The poison’s working.

Years of fencing are serving Ferrick well as he lifts his rapier to parry the incoming blow. Though his opponent’s sword is heavier and more threatening, Ferrick is at an advantage with his speed. He yanks his rapier back and jabs the blade hard into his opponent’s chest. The man falls back, clutching at the blood soiling his shirt. It’s not a deadly wound, but it’s enough to sting.

My own opponent is all lines and angles, sharp with rage. His sword hand quivers as his other bleeds onto the dirt. He doesn’t know any better. My magic practically screams to be used, and I won’t ignore it or tamp it down any longer. One drop of that gushing blood is all I need.

The coals in the nearby fire pit are cooling, but hopefully still hot enough to burn.

I surprise my opponent as I drop to a quick crouch and sweep the bone dagger across his growing pool of blood. His movements are slow and off balance; if he wants to survive, he needs to hurry and wrap his arm. Yet, he doesn’t move. His eyes dip to the bone blade, then to the ground where the dead girl it belonged to lies. He lunges at me with a snarl.

I smack hard against the ground. My shoulder digs into a jagged rock and sharp pain seizes me. I hate that I scream, but the pain takes me by surprise.

“Amora! Get up!” Vataea yells, then gasps. Her opponent strikes her across the cheek with the hilt of her weapon. Vataea doesn’t cry out, but snarls. I’m pinned on the ground beneath this man, but she can’t help me. No one can.