All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) (28 page)

Never did I think it possible to curse a person directly, but
with this vicious power I’ve gathered from the cursed bands around my wrists, I’ve done just that.

I laugh and laugh as Cato’s eyes go white, his body convulsing as the curse tears into him, settling into his blood.

He’s nothing more than an angry little boy who’s ruined countless lives with his own jealousy. And now, finally, I’ll make him pay for it.

When he jerks his head to me, his eyes are wide with fear, but I only smile as my heart collapses.

It turns out cursing another person’s life directly takes a substantial payment I hadn’t quite expected, but I don’t mind giving my life in exchange.

“The people of Arida will forget what I did to them.” Shaking, I smear my blood over the grass, then into the dirt, trying to bury it as deeply into the soil as I can get it. “Everyone on this island will forget what they have lost.”

It’s the last bit of kindness I know to offer. Choking, gagging, unable to find air, I curl the skinning knife tightly in my palm and make my final curse.

I give it my memories. I fill the knife with the story of this past year, and drop it onto the shore for the waves to bury. I want my friends to live in peace; I want them to forget the pain of all they’ve lost.

But perhaps one day, when the kingdom is ready, they’ll find this knife and learn the truth of who King Cato truly was. Perhaps one day they’ll know what I’ve done.

A wave grazes my fingertips, the water pushing the knife deeper and deeper into the sand until the blade’s been devoured whole.

All air flees from my lungs as my body stills, slackening into something both so heavy and entirely weightless at the same time.

Arida fades from my vision, and I draw my final breath.

I stagger back, and Cato’s skinning knife clatters to the ground.

There’s a lump in my throat I bitterly swallow down as I stare at my trembling hands—no longer Sira’s, but my own. In my mind’s eye, I once again see the blood of my first prisoner gliding down my fingers.

As Sira, I understood curse magic perfectly—you decide what you want people to see, and curse an object with that image or story by connecting it with your blood. There’s a chance someone could have made this whole thing up, but this curse was nothing like the one with the fox; it was far too real. Every breath Sira took was my own; I felt every emotion. Every ounce of pain and fear. It was curse magic at a level that will never be rivaled.

And it showed me that the magic within me isn’t meant to be vicious.

Sira’s soul magic was never a beast that waited to consume her the moment she let down her guard. It was gentle and inviting. Comfortable.

Her curse on Cato is what makes my soul magic behave the way it does. And the cursed soul magic she used to get rid of everyone’s magic—the one she hated herself for even possessing—is exactly the kind of magic Kaven uses, now.

Everything I grew up believing—about my blood, my magic, my lineage—none of it was real. This isn’t the way it’s meant to be.

All this time, has Father known the truth?

I don’t know how long I sit in the cavern, letting the truth sink in. I only stand because I know I have to, and my head spins with the toll of this knowledge as I make my way back out.

Bastian’s the first one I see, his sword drawn. He may not have it pointed at Kaven—whose stance is unbothered and face
expressionless—but venom masks the pain in his eyes, and I know he won’t hesitate to use it if he has to. Vataea mirrors his protective stance while Ferrick crouches at the lip of the cavern, impatiently waiting.

When Ferrick sees me, his shoulders sag in visible relief and he steps forward to grab me in a swift embrace. “By the gods, you were in there forever.”

Though I want to sink into the warmth of a familiar body and relax until the fog of my brain clears, I force myself to ease away from him.

“I’m fine,” I say shakily, turning my attention to Kaven.

He watches with keen eyes, brows furrowed. “Do you believe what you saw?”

I nod to let Kaven know the truth. “I do.”

He doesn’t smile or gloat like I thought he might. He only says, “My grandfather found that knife buried in Arida’s sand years ago. He brought it back to Zudoh with him, but was too much of a coward to do anything with it. My father inherited it on Grandfather’s deathbed; King Audric had just taken the throne, and Grandfather wanted his son to share the truth with the king and the kingdom. But my father was weak and cowardly, just like him. I found the knife in his study years ago.”

Bastian practically roars. “You don’t get to talk about our father, Kaven. You
killed
him!”

“He was a coward,” Kaven spits. “He wanted to keep this a secret from the world.”

“He kept it a secret so Visidia didn’t end up like it is now.” Bastian holds his sword tight while Kaven folds his arms across his chest, a deep viciousness in his eyes.

“What King Cato did was wrong,” I say as I move between them. “But this is not the way to fix his mistakes, or my father’s.” I dig my nails into my palms until my hands steady.
Should one of the brothers make a move, I can’t be dwelling on Sira’s curse. I need to be ready to fight.

“The king has known the truth for years,
Princess
,” Kaven says, and the words stab sharp as daggers between my ribs. “I showed him the blade, willing to compromise if he told everyone the truth. But the king is yet another coward, just like Cato and my father. In his fear, he had half of our population destroyed in an attempt to stop us from asking the wrong questions or forming the wrong ideas. I assume you saw the ash on our sand? It’s from the trees your father had burned by Valukan soldiers. The bones on the shore? They were casualties of a war started by him. All to silence us.”

I think back to the ash on the shore. The bones. The ring of algae so thick it looked like tar. All of it was caused by Father.

If he truly knew about our magic, then the man I thought I knew so well has turned out to be a perfect stranger. Father was a coward to leave so many people here to suffer in Zudoh, just so he didn’t have to face the truth of our history.

My hands curl into hard fists as I press them against my sides.

No one back home seems to know the truth about Cato. The stories about him are always so proud—he’s thought to be a powerful animancer who was able to establish a kingdom and revive our population while we were on the brink of destruction. He had each island represent only one magic, to help the kingdom repopulate without temptation or greed.

But in reality, he was nothing short of a coldhearted murderer who sought to weaken others for his own glory. And if there’s truth in Kaven’s words, Father’s following in his steps.

He didn’t keep me on Arida to protect me. He kept me there so that I’d never learn the truth: he destroyed Zudoh to keep them from rising up. And he didn’t want me to ever find out.

My chest is so tight I can hardly breathe. Every revelation is another blow that fights to knock me back, but for now, I must remain standing. This is no time to drop my guard.

“What makes you think you’re any different than Cato?” I ask Kaven. “You’re destroying lives for the sake of your own beliefs, just as he did.”

Kaven only shakes his head. “I want to fix the damage he’s created, and lead this kingdom on a new path.” Every word he speaks becomes sharper than the last, more forceful. “If a few lives must be sacrificed for that, then so be it. Aridian magic doesn’t have to be a vicious weapon. You’ve seen the reasons it lashes out. But I can help you. We can fix your magic, and restore this kingdom to what it was meant to be.”

Bastian bristles beside me.

“With you as Visidia’s king, I assume?” I keep my eyes firm on Kaven’s, whose words cause my chest to knot. Restoring Visidia is what I’ve wanted all along, but Kaven doesn’t seek restoration, he seeks vengeance. My family may be responsible for originally destroying this kingdom, but that in no way makes him its salvation.

“Yes, if that’s what they want to call me.” He says it so simply. “I will be their leader into a better future. And it starts with the Montara blood—it starts with your father. If you care about the future of Visidia as you claim, you will help me.”

“You’re right that the curse needs to be broken,” I admit. “But I’ll find another way. So long as there’s air in my lungs, Kaven, you will never rule Visidia.”

“You should rethink your position while you still have the chance.” Kaven’s voice rises as he takes a step closer. “The Montaras aren’t meant to rule. Cato was a liar and a cheat who separated the kingdom for his own gain, and your father is a coward who burned our ships and exiled us here. You can be
better than them, Princess. Step down, stand by my side, and we can restore soul magic to what it should be.”

I grind my heels into the dirt, fearful my knees may give out with all the turmoil roiling within me. Because on one hand, nothing Kaven says is
wrong
. The Montaras were never the brave leaders I believed they were. They were never meant to rule.

But that doesn’t mean that I have to be like them. And I’m sure as stars not going to stand by Kaven’s side while he enacts his vengeance.

“How would you do it?” I ask, keeping my voice soft. Making it waver. Because Kaven’s hungry for blood, and if he thinks I can help him get it, then he’ll tell me what I need to know.

“Your curse is in your blood,” he says, and there’s a furor in his eyes. “The knife was coated with it. And when your father visited us eleven years ago, I stabbed him and mixed his blood with our spring water so that Zudians would have traces of that magic within them. They need only to accept and practice it. That’s what I’ve been training them to do. If the curse isn’t contained to only one person—if all of Visidia has it—it’s possible we can break it. The curse would become too big to sustain itself. And once it’s broken, we can restore soul magic to what it should be.”

I think of Sira’s magic—so open and free—and I crave that feeling, again. I never knew magic could be like that.

“But we don’t have enough of the curse within us,” Kaven continues. “We need more of it. If we had more of your father’s blood, we could—”

“No.” I’ve heard enough of his plan. “There’s got to be a way that doesn’t involve hurting my family or spreading the curse to more people.”

Kaven’s face falls, hardening into something monstrous.
“There isn’t.” The flat tone of his voice sends shudders down my spine. “What’s one life in exchange for helping your entire kingdom get the magic they deserve?”

The words are a strike to my chest. They’re the words I’ve believed in all my life—
one life does not mean more than the safety of my kingdom
. That’s what I always told myself when I was deep in Arida’s prisons, taking the lives I thought I had to.

And even now, knowing how wrong I was, I would not claim that Kaven’s statement is untrue. One life is not worth the lives of the kingdom, but there has to be another way.

I think of Bastian, a boy cursed at the age of ten after watching his parents killed. Of Zale, fighting for her people with everything she has. Of the countless others that Kaven has killed in his pursuit of soul magic.

My kingdom does deserve magic, just as I deserve to have mine feel the way it did in Sira’s curse. But Kaven’s methods will not be how we achieve that. I will find my own way.

“The future of Visidia isn’t yours to decide,” I snarl. “No harm will come to Visidia or my family.”

Ferrick’s hand is on my shoulder within a second, stilling me. “We know what he wants,” he whispers. “We know he’s still building an army. If we leave now, we have time to tell your parents and devise a plan.”

Kaven doesn’t miss his words. “You really should have taken my offer, Princess.” Each word hits like the strike of a blade. “Because I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not
building
an army; I have one. And you’re out of time.”

I look past Ferrick and Vataea, fighting to steady my trembling hands as dozens of figures emerge from the woods. Only when they get closer do I see that some wear vests and worn boots of deep amethyst—Kerost. Others wear magnificent sapphire blazers and the matching capes I’d recognize anywhere. The silver emblems of their capes shine through the rolling fog, winking at me mockingly.

My own royal soldiers.

I step back on trembling legs, not wanting to believe what I’m seeing. “What’s going on?” I ask, though deep down I already know. I don’t recognize any of the Kers, but familiar faces are among my own people.

Like Casem’s.

My guard’s eyes widen when he sees Ferrick and me. He stands at the edge of the woods beside Olin, his father—the man who taught us both how to wield a blade and protect
ourselves. The man who stands at Father’s side daily, acting as Arida’s top adviser.

Though Olin’s never been the warmest man, his crystal eyes were never half as frigid, nor a quarter as dangerous as they are now. And never before has he sneered at me with such raw hatred.

“Zudoh isn’t the only island that’s tired of your father’s reign.” Kaven steps through the soldiers to stand before me, his chin proud. “Your father brought only the soldiers he trusted most when he came to destroy this island—his top advisers. But what he miscalculated is that not all of them agreed with him. He didn’t think to consider that some might
like
the idea of our magic being open for all, especially after they saw the power of our multiple magics in battle, and how the king could take down twenty people at once, just with strands of their hair or drops of their blood. Like myself, they want to be able to practice soul magic.”

He nods to Olin, and my heart drops. “Did you truly think everyone would stay content with the monarchy keeping that magic entirely for themselves? With robbing people of their freedom, and telling them which island they must live on just because of the magic they choose to practice? It’s time for things to change. The day my island burned was the day others realized that, too.”

I try to catch Casem’s stare, remembering the last night we were together on Arida, and how passive the palace guards were during the puppet show. How they let people openly disrespect their king. I’d sensed something was wrong, but Casem waved my concern away. He’s been part of this all along.

Why then, in Ikae, had he protected me?

Sweat beads at my temple as I step back, the bramble of dead roots and leaves crunching beneath my feet. It’s certainly not all Aridian soldiers who have turned on us—only about
fifteen or so—but I’ve no doubt that if they’re here, others who feel the same way are waiting back home.

Kaven steps forward. “The Montaras restrict us. Your little runaway was the perfect excuse we needed to get everyone away and consolidate our army. For that, I must thank you. Your High Animancer will never see this coming.” Someone presses a dagger into his palm, and he curls his long fingers around the hilt.

My own daggers feel heavier than normal as I lift them. They weigh my trembling hands.

As Kaven approaches, I do my best to tighten my grip on them and keep them ready. My palms won’t stop sweating.

Visidia deserves better than what they’ve gotten, and it definitely deserves more than this man. He’s nearly as far gone as Cato, but I won’t make the same mistake Sira did by waiting. I still my shaking wrists, and lunge.

The woods erupt into chaos.

Bastian weaves swiftly around the birch trees, using them as shields to dodge his opponents, and as tools to outmaneuver them. He feints a left around one before banking right, ducking the blow of an opponent. His counterattack sends them face-first into the bramble, bleeding.

I force myself not to look at the face. Not to see if it’s anyone I recognize.

“Don’t let them get your blood!” I yell, wrapping the full force of my magic around me, letting myself sink into its darkness. Its ferocity. “We don’t know which of them might practice Kaven’s magic.”

Ferrick remains close behind me, using his speed to best his attackers and ensure that I only have to deal with Kaven. Vataea’s nowhere in sight; I’ve no idea when she snuck away, but I hope she’s somewhere safe in these woods.

Kaven fights with only one dagger, but he’s skilled and
quick as he rushes me. He weaves around my movements and strikes at my waist. I barely dodge in time.

Kaven uses the same technique as Sira used to curse all of Arida; I can’t let him steal even a drop of my blood.

I slice my bone dagger through the air. Kaven ducks to avoid it, countering with a swift kick to my stomach that sends me flying into Ferrick’s back. He tumbles, but is the first to right himself and pull me up by my arms.

“Let me help,” he says urgently. But without fire, there’s nothing I can do with his offered limbs.

I push off Ferrick and swing at Kaven again, just as he’s about to bring his dagger down. He moves like a soldier, every motion precise and calculated. He dodges my blow, ducks around me, and grabs hold of my hair as Ferrick lunges at him. I try to yank myself free, hardly noticing the yells and the stench of smoke and fire plaguing the air.

Kaven curses and tosses me to the ground. He swats at his tunic; the fabric has caught fire.

Vataea stands behind him, holding several blazing branches like torches. She feeds the flames into the dehydrated bramble beneath us, which hungrily sponges them in and ignites the woods.

I look at her through the veil of smoke beginning to form, and she smiles.

I force myself from the ground and Ferrick is ready. He barely flinches as I toss the bone dagger and scramble to grab a fallen sword from the ground, using it to make a clean cut through his left arm, at his elbow.

Kaven’s struck by surprise and shifts his focus onto Ferrick. Wrong move. I take hold of the severed arm in one hand and thrust my blade deep into Kaven’s stomach with the other.

My world grows cold the instant blood soaks his shirt
and stains my hands. The farther his blood trails down my skin, the further the cool burn spreads, like a monster devouring my flesh.

“Aridian magic isn’t the strongest, little princess,” Kaven seethes through his teeth. “Mine is. Let me show you.”

Pain freezes me. Kaven’s cursed his own blood as a means of protection, and I’m lost to the magic he’s formed around me. It’s one full of vicious shadows that plague the corners of my vision and snarl at me, snapping dagger-like teeth. I can’t do anything but scream as the cool steel of his blade slips beneath my skin. It’s like a thousand stingrays stab their barbs through me one by one as Kaven tears through my arm. I scream, my grip on the dagger slackening.

It’s just a curse
, I remind myself as the shadows tangle around my ankles, dragging me into the earth.

I make my mind blank, letting the shadows do whatever they’d like. Because no matter how much they snarl or constrict around me, they’re not real—Kaven is.

I will my body to focus on what it’s doing outside this curse. To wrap my fingers around the dagger, and
push
.

Though I don’t see my weapon, I feel the invisible weight of it in my palms. The shadows rise, stretching as if forming a gaping mouth, preparing to devour me. But I look through them.

Bastian said it surprised him how quickly I could escape a curse, and now I know why—I’ve spent my entire life fighting Sira’s curse on the Montara bloodline. Compared to her magic, this is nothing.

I drive Rukan forward with everything in me.

There’s a scream. This time, it’s not my own.

As the shadows of the curse fade, a world that smells of smoke and iron takes its place. My fingers twist around Rukan’s woven hilt, and I rip my weapon from Kaven’s stomach.

My shoulder’s numb, hot with my own blood from where Kaven cut me. High on adrenaline, the pain hasn’t fully set in.

Kaven clutches his stomach as blood soaks through his shirt. “How?” is all he can ask.

“You’re not as strong as you think.” My body trembles as I slide the edge of my blade over Ferrick’s severed arm, coating it with Kaven’s blood. Then I feed it to the fire as the smoke rises, shrouding us.

Kaven digs his hands deep into the bramble and screams. Blood leaks from an invisible line on his skin as it begins to tear around the elbow. The skin beneath it bubbles up, sizzling to match what’s happening with Ferrick’s in the flames.

His arm begins to melt away from him, bones and all, and the leather bracelets on his wrist burn with it.

Somewhere behind me, I hear Bastian’s quiet gasp as the bloodied bracelets burn, but I don’t stop. I strike, fully intent on delivering the final blow, when something slices through the air beside me.

I whirl with just enough time to avoid the blow of an Aridian soldier, and his sword clatters into the earth. Behind him, at least five others are approaching, their weapons raised.

There are too many of them for us to win. And not just them, but Kaven, too. Though injured, he still fights.

There’s something in his hand I can’t quite see, and with a dawning horror, I watch as he slides it over his blade.

His blade that drips with my blood.

My insides twist as his curse on me takes hold. My body singes like a fresh wound doused with alcohol, every breath full of fire.

I go to lunge for the dagger in Kaven’s hand, to stop him, but Bastian grabs hold of my wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps. His eyes flash sharp and silver as he pulls me into him. “It’s too late. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t let them leave!” Kaven’s yell sounds like an echo somewhere in the distance. I clutch my chest as a vicious cold blossoms within me, hazing my vision.

Bastian grabs hold of my hand and forces me to run. White-hot pain shoots through my arm, nearly bringing me to the ground. Ferrick bounces on his feet behind Vataea, who uses her makeshift torch to ignite the bramble beneath us. Several soldiers stumble back as the flames roar to life, quickly moving to find a different path. But a few of the Kers manage to speed themselves up in time to make it through the flames.

A man in amethyst lunges for us, movements so fast they blur. He slams his blade into Ferrick’s shoulder, and the healer falls back with a grunt. The man arcs his weapon in preparation for another attack, but something sharp and silver gleams from the trees and hits him square in the eyes before he can manage to swing. The man falls back, and my head whirls.

Casem pants, a bow in his shaking hands. I stare at him and his lip quivers, face dripping with sweat.

“Amora,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry. I only wanted to find you. I thought this was … I mean, my father insisted I come, but I had no idea that … By the gods, I’m so sorry, I—”

“There’s no time!” Ferrick grabs Casem by the collar of his blazer, his shoulder already knitting itself back together. He pushes him toward us, and Casem stumbles, trying to keep up.

“Talk later,” Bastian says, “run now.”

I can barely follow that command. Bastian’s the only reason I’m still standing, bearing the majority of my weight as he hauls me through the forest. Every step jars my shoulder, causing the pain to build into something so exponential I can no longer tolerate it. My vision blurs and I try to decipher what’s happening around us; all I’m able to make out is a hundred distorted colors, and blurred outlines. There’s screaming, and I think it’s Vataea who whirls around with a snarl.

At some point my vision fades entirely. I’ve no idea how much time has passed before I see Vataea again. This time, she’s covered in blood and our surrounding landscape has shifted. Footsteps are harder.

Sand
.

More blood. How long have we been running?

I think I fall at some point because I taste sand and salt, but I’m lost to whatever’s happening inside my body. My gaze flickers between real life to blinding white, and when I try to summon my legs, I can’t even feel that they’re there. They buckle as someone continues to haul me forward, dragging my limp body through the sand.

“Vataea!” I don’t know who yells her name. “Now would be a really great time to show off more of that sea magic of yours!”

I hear the quiet snap of a bow. Wet sand sloshes around my boots, but I don’t see or feel it as much as I hear it. It mixes with the garbled sounds of voices and clanking steel as everyone fights. Everyone except for me.

But my eyes won’t focus enough for me to be able to help. My body’s hot and paralyzed, dead weight to whoever carries me.

It’s not Vataea. I catch her face in a passing blur; she’s bleeding from the nose as she raises the tides over her head, chanting a vicious song. It looks like the ocean stretches around us, the water parting. But I can’t focus. I can’t watch. All I see are flashes of blood. Sand. A wall of dead fish around us.

“It’s going to be okay.” I only know the voice belongs to Bastian when his calloused hand cups the side of my face. It cools my feverish skin instantly.

“Kaven’s down,” he whispers. “Vataea’s taking care of us. Stars, I wish you could see her out there, Amora. She was
incredible. But we’re getting out of here, okay? You’re going to be fine.”

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.