All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) (31 page)

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 of 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.

“Tell your mother I’m sorry,” he whispers. “And take care of her, please.”

I still, trying to process the words even as Father draws away from me. But there’s no time. Our makeshift world blurs, and fire claims my peripheral vision as I’m thrust back into the blazing throne room, where Bastian and Kaven duel through the smoky haze.

My eyes are drowned in sweat and smoke as I watch Father lift his sword from the ground. He twists it to press the tip of the blade against his stomach, and I buckle as horror freezes my limbs.

“Father?” It’s like I’m back on Arida’s beach, begging him to turn and look at me. But he shuts his eyes instead, a single tear rolling down his cheek. “Wait, please!”

Arida’s High Animancer, the King of Visidia, plunges the sword deep into his stomach. I barely catch him in time to help his body to the ground. His shoulders heave beneath my fingertips, just once, and I feel the very moment breath leaves his body and his soul disappears to the gods.

He did this to break his connection with Kaven. So that I could kill him without worrying about hurting Father or destroying his soul.

He did this because of me.

Somewhere behind me, Bastian’s yell slices the air. But I can’t look at him.

All I see is Father’s blood pooling over the marble, surprising the hesitant flames around him. All I see is how his body sags deeper into his blade and his hands fall limp at his sides. Fire makes its way to him, burning through his cape and plaguing his skin.

Even amid the flames, I’m cold as frost.

My chest constricts with breaths I do not take. Father’s blood slithers around my boots. I stumble to my knees beside him, staring until my vision goes as red as his blood.

There’s no point in looking at his chest—it doesn’t move. Or his eyes—which stare unblinking into the space ahead of him. He’s gone.

Dead.

And he’s left me the responsibility of an entire kingdom I cannot fail.

Rukan is heavy in my hand, pulsing with hunger I have every intention of feeding.

A monster stands before me with a vicious smile and eyes that shine silver as a full moon as they stare down at Father’s blood. It doesn’t realize that I am a monster, too.

“I’ve won.” Kaven’s words are as firm as a prayer. He presses his palms to the blood, looking at it like it’s a gift from the gods themselves. He raises his palms to his lips and coats his tongue in the very thing he’s desired most.

In Kaven’s distraction, a breathless Bastian draws a bone and quietly coats it in his brother’s blood. He must plan to curse Kaven to it, but when he raises the bone to try, he stumbles
back with a hand to his throat, then his stomach. He’s choking, gagging, reaching for something I cannot see. Blood coats his lips and trails down his chin, though I see no wound.

Not another one. He can’t leave me, too.

Kaven turns to him, surprised, and smiles.

“What did you do to him?” I snarl, readying my dagger as Bastian drops to his knees and lets the bone clatter at his side. As he falls, I stumble back, throat constricting as it searches for air. My body seizes and shakes as warm blood glides down my own chin, as well. I’ve no idea how or when it got there.

Kaven says nothing. He keeps staring at Father’s blood, and his awe snatches my breath until I’m nearly suffocating. It takes all my power to force myself to stabilize, chest shaking as I lunge for him. All I see is red.

Red. Red. Red.

Red as the blood Father bathes in.

Red as the blood Bastian falls to the floor and chokes on.

Red as the blood that will forever stain my soul.

Red like the coat of blood I will weave over Kaven’s corpse.

I thrust Rukan into his leg and bury it in his skin with a twist. Kaven doesn’t even scream. He pulls me back by my hair, but I rip my dagger free and slice through the strands until his grip falls with hair no longer mine.

“Tell me what you did to him!” I scream it this time, movements erratic, vision spinning. I think I strike him again because there’s blood on my hands. Mine, his, Father’s. It all falls the same. There’s no keeping track of whom it belongs to, anymore.

Bastian slaps his hand against the ground and wheezes for air he cannot find. My vision blurs, and Kaven’s face flashes across it.

“The curse,” he whispers. “
The moment you harm another creature, may this magic eat you from the inside out.
”

My throat tightens with recognition. Those are Sira’s words, the ones she used to curse Cato.

“What are you talking about?” Bastian’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head, and I can barely focus.

Because I know the answer. My temples throb as my own eyes twitch back and forth, threatening to roll into the back of my skull.

“Bastian just triggered the Montara curse.” Kaven’s fingers dance along the hilt of his blood-crusted sword. He holds his chin proud, as if he’s thrilled by the blood we bathe in. By the chaotic destruction he’s caused.

My vision pulses black. I can no longer keep track of all my wounds, or the amount of blood that drains from me. I think back to Zudoh—to the tiny object Kaven cursed me to, almost impossible to see.

Bastian’s hair.

Then I think back to
Keel Haul
, where until Bastian grabbed my hands, I felt empty. Like a shell. He was the only thing that made me feel even a little like my normal self.