All the Tides of Fate E-Book

Adalyn Grace

• Herausgeber: Titan Books
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: All the Stars and Teeth
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Seitenzahl: 531

Beschreibung

The thrilling sequel to instant New York Times bestseller All the Stars and Teeth, called captivating by Tomi Adeyemi, Vicious and alluring by Hafsah Faizal, and phenomenal by Adrienne Young.Through blood and sacrifice, Amora Montara has conquered a rebellion and taken her rightful place as queen of Visidia. Now, with the islands in turmoil and the people questioning her authority, Amora cannot allow anyone to see her weaknesses.No one can know about the curse in her bloodline. No one can know that she s lost her magic. No one can know the truth about the boy who holds the missing half of her soul.To save herself and Visidia, Amora embarks on a desperate quest for a mythical artifact that could fix everything but it comes at a terrible cost. As she tries to balance her loyalty to her people, her crew, and the desires of her heart, Amora will soon discover that the power to rule might destroy her.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Praise for the Author

Also Available from Adalyn Grace and Titan Books

Title Page

Leave us a review

Copyright

Dedication

Map

The Kingdom of Visidia

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

PRAISE FOR THE AUTHOR

“Fierce and unrelenting…Do yourself a favor and get lost in this beautiful book!”

TOMI ADEYEMI, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Children of Blood and Bone

“Jam-packed with swashbuckling adventure, swoonworthy romance, and dark, lush magic. Amora Montara and the crew of Keel Haul will drop anchor in your heart and refuse to leave.”

CHRISTINE LYNN HERMAN, author of The Devouring Gray

“We may have found your favorite book ever…a tale of magic and second chances that’s fresh and thrilling in equal measure.”

ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY

“An accomplished, exciting debut.”

KIRKUS

“This fast-paced duology opener excels in its careful consideration of the responsibilities that come with power.”

PUBLISHERS WEEKLY

ALSO AVAILABLE FROM ADALYN GRACE AND TITAN BOOKS

All the Stars and Teeth

ALL THETIDES OFFATE

ADALYN GRACE

TITANBOOKS

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All the Tides of Fate

Print edition ISBN: 9781789095135

E-book edition ISBN: 9781789095142

Published by Titan Books

A division of Titan Publishing Group Ltd.

144 Southwark Street, London, SE1 0UP

www.titanbooks.com

First Titan edition: February 2021

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2021 by Adalyn Grace, Inc.

First published by Imprint, a part of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

Map art by Dave Stevenson

To Josh—

For telling me to write this series,and for believing in me while I did.

To Tomi—

Because there’s no one I’d rather be doing this with.

THE KINGDOM OF VISIDIA

ARIDA

Island of soul magic

Represented by sapphire

VALUKA

Island of elemental magic

Represented by ruby

MORNUTE

Island of enchantment magic

Represented by rose beryl

CURMANA

Island of mind magic

Represented by onyx

KEROST

Island of time magic

Represented by amethyst

SUNTOSU

Island of restoration magic

Represented by emerald

ZUDOH

Island of curse magic

Represented by opal

ONE

This water is fierce.

It snarls as it thrashes against The Duchess, who lets herself be jarred by the wrath of winter’s tides. She tests her new captain, knocking me against the weatherworn helm as grainy seawater slickens the wood and dampens my fingers.

But I won’t slip. Not this time.

“Back the mainsail!” I dig my boots into the deck and grip the helm tight, refusing to let the ship bait me. I am the captain. If The Duchess refuses to listen, I’ve no choice but to make her.

Today there’s no promise of neighboring islands in the distance. None of Mornute’s mountains are visible through the milky-white haze that blows in from the north. It wets the air, seeping into my pores and plastering dampened curls to my neck.

The ship buckles from another blow of the tides, and I brace myself for what’s coming as I see the faint shadow of the fast-approaching buoy I anchored to the sea a full season ago. I shut my eyes and pray under my breath to any god who might listen as we approach, begging them to spare me. Begging them to let this be the day that the boundaries of my curse are pushed further.

But as always, the gods refuse to listen.

The moment The Duchess passes the buoy, my knees buckle as white-hot pain rips up my spine and through my skull like a too-familiar blade cleaving through me. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, doing everything I can to keep my pain contained so that the crew won’t grow suspicious. I dig my fingernails into the helm, cool sweat licking at my neck as my vision flickers in and out. Desperate, I give Vataea the signal.

She leans over the stern at once, whispering a chant so fierce that every word that passes her lips is a clap of thunder. The sea regards her curiously at first, then obeys Vataea’s siren magic with a snap, twisting the direction of the tides. Some of the crew mumble with irritation as we turn back toward the docks, wondering why I have them do this same silly trip every day—not even half a morning long, and never to any specific destination. But at least out loud, they don’t complain. They’re not foolish enough to go against their queen.

The moment The Duchess is southbound toward Arida, the tension against my skull eases and my ragged breathing steadies. Only when my vision begins to clear do I loosen my grip.

Vataea presses a tentative hand upon my back. “Perhaps it’s time we stop this.” The mermaid’s voice never fails to sound like the sweetest of songs, even if the words threaten to cleave me again. “Maybe it’s time to stop fighting your curse, and to make the best of it.”

I say nothing. Until someone’s had half their soul ripped away and cursed into another living person, I don’t care to hear their suggestions. Vataea will never know what it feels like to have part of her being merged with someone else. To be able to feel their presence. Their strongest emotions. Their everything.

She doesn’t get to be the one who’s fatigued from trying to break this curse.

Vataea’s hand slips from my back, leaving my skin cold. “I’m sorry for what happened, but being reckless isn’t going to cure you any faster.”

I want to bristle. I want to turn and yell about all the things she doesn’t understand. But instead, the air in my lungs deflates as she turns and makes her way to the bow.

Those are the limits of my curse. A curse that means half my soul—and all my magic—lives within Bastian.

And like today, every attempt to break it only ends in failure.

The docks are filled with royal soldiers and servants who draw back as we approach Arida’s docks, where the fog camouflages the visiting ships, turning their sails opaque. Instinctively my chest seizes when I see the figures waiting there for me, knowing it’s no longer time to be a captain, but a queen.

“Toss the anchors!” I twist the helm and the ship groans as I force her against the waves, slowing our brisk speed. My crew obeys, and the two anchors catch the bottom of the shallow water, jarring us. Someone slams into the ship’s ledge and slips face-first onto the deck, but I can’t help them. I twist the helm the opposite way, forcing the ship to oblige. To obey.

She steadies herself, and my grip loosens as my muscles relax.

The moment we hit the shore, my crew spurs into action. Some focus on righting the anchors and dropping the sails while others toss themselves upon the shore to secure the ship. They lower the ramp onto sand red as blood, where Mira, my lady-in-waiting, stands in a thick black cape with a collar of white wolf fur that stretches to her modest chin, tight and suffocating. Her matching gloved hands are folded before her, eyes narrowed with the perpetual worry I’ve grown accustomed to.

“You’re late.” Her breath steams the air, creating whorls that shroud the faces of royal staff who straighten as I approach. Two of them hold a plush sapphire pillow with elegant silver-and-gold embroidery, and balanced atop it sits my crown—the head of a giant Valuna eel, its mouth open and waiting to sit upon my head and clamp around my jaw. Waiting to devour me.

The gem-encrusted spine glistens from the dampness of the fog, making my throat thick as I consider how natural this false crown looked on Father. It’s a crown made for imposters, and as it’s fitted swiftly upon my head, I can’t help but think how natural it must look on me now, too.

“I’m never late.” I fasten my sapphire coat tight and straighten my crown as the eel’s jagged teeth graze my jaw and temples. “I’m the queen.”

I’m quick to match the smile Mira flashes at me, though our playfulness is nothing but a farce. This is a game we’ve played since summer, one that’s expected by my kingdom. They smile and I smile back, no questions asked. I’m their queen now, and despite all that’s happened, I’m meant to show my people that we’re still strong. That while Visidia has suffered loss, we will unite to surpass our hardships and restore the kingdom.

“Tell that to everyone waiting. It’s your first advisory meeting as Visidia’s queen; you ought to make a better impression.” Mira’s tired eyes roll; it’s something she never would have done before last summer, before she was nearly killed during Kaven’s attack on Arida. Now though, she’s relaxed, willing to tell anyone what’s on her mind—including me.

I’m glad for it. I’m glad for the color in her cheeks and the energy in her step. I’m glad that she’s alive. Not everyone was so lucky.

“The queen dowager is waiting with the advisers in the throne room,” Mira begins, but those words ignite a wicked chill within me. It blossoms in my stomach and wraps claws around my throat.

“Don’t call her that.” Dowager. I practically hiss at the title, not needing an additional reminder that Father is dead, the remnants of his charred body feeding the fish as he rests at the bottom of the sea. “When you’re in my presence, call her by her name.”

Mira’s cheeks flush, and I try not to let the embarrassment from my outburst show. When she opens her mouth, I wave her words away, not wanting the apology that lingers on her tongue. The last thing I need is more people tiptoeing around me—especially when they’ve no idea what really happened the night Father died. That if I’d been able to stop Kaven before he reached Arida, Father would still be alive. I’d be the princess, and my soul would still be in one piece.

But that’s far from the fate the gods cursed me with.

I shove my hands deep into my coat pockets before anyone can see how fiercely they tremble, and raise my chin high for those watching. “Take me to the advisers.”

TWO

The throne room falls silent when I enter, the last tendrils of conversation evaporating like smoke as the heels of my boots snap against the marble floor.

Bitter air and the prickle of ghosts brushing against my skin welcome me into a room I’ve not stepped foot in since I fought Kaven here last summer. It’s one that no longer shows signs of the fire that destroyed it, or even a drop of the blood I remember flowing so freely from Father’s corpse when he drove a sword through his own stomach to sever his connection to Kaven and give Bastian and me the ability to fight him.

I don’t stop to observe the advisers who stand and bow their heads until after I’ve taken a seat at the head of an oversize black quartz table, rubbing my fingers over the charred bones of my throne—freshly lacquered since the fire so that it’s sturdy enough to sit upon.

It’s a cruel punishment to hold our council meeting here, but no one says a word, likely thinking the same thing I am—one of us is sitting in the very spot where Father died.

Mother sits after I do. Her curls are slicked back, fashioned into plaits that are so tight they lift her forehead, making her eyebrows high and alert. Once, her beautiful brown skin glowed radiant as the seaside cliffs at sunrise. Now it’s sallow and sunken, and she holds her lips like she’s just taken a bite of something thoroughly unsatisfying. Perhaps she feels the wrongness of this room as much as I do.

Advisers from each of the islands—with the notable but not unexpected exception of Kerost—take their seats around us. Feathered quills and parchments full of notes lie before them.

There’s an empty seat on my right meant for my leading adviser, Ferrick, but I wave for a royal guard to take his chair away.

“Ferrick has duties elsewhere today,” I tell the advisers before they can ask, jutting my jaw so that I might look as authoritative as possible beneath my crown. “I’ll speak on behalf of Arida myself.”

Next to me, Mother’s voice chides in a whisper only I can hear, “Mind your tone, Amora. You’re not here to fight; we all want the same thing.”

Her words force my lips into a thin line. Ever since I took the throne, there’s been no shortage of those who question my authority. But she’s right; confronting Visidia’s advisers as though I’m prepared to fight them will do me no good.

Digging deep into myself, I find my will to continue playing the game Mira and I started back on the docks—the same tired game I’ve been playing with the kingdom since taking the throne. I plaster a smile to my lips.

“Thank you all for coming.” I make myself sound lighter this time. Friendlier. “I know things are difficult for all of us right now, so I appreciate everyone’s willingness to meet.”

“I’m glad we finally have the chance.” The voice that speaks is deceptively tender. It belongs to Zale, the newly appointed adviser of Zudoh, an island we’re working on reintroducing into the kingdom after my father wrongly banished them eleven years ago. Though her people cruelly suffered, Zale was kind enough to offer my crew and me shelter and protection when we arrived in Zudoh on our quest to find Kaven—even despite Bastian being his brother.

Ever since her island was freed from Kaven’s reign, she’s developed a lively glow to her warm skin, and her once hollow eyes have filled with a brilliance that rivals the brightest malachite. She’s gorgeous in her silky white robes, but there’s a fierceness in her that’s not to be overlooked. Zale’s one of the sharpest and most determined women I’ve ever met.

Beside her, Lord Bargas sits as proudly as one can be while bundled in a ruby coat so thick that it’s practically a blanket. Accompanied by his young successor, they represent Valuka, the kingdom of elemental magic. My heart skips a beat when I see him, as I’m reminded sharply of Bastian and how he’d pretended to be the baron’s son on the night we first met to gain entry to my birthday celebration. The baron and his crew had been left out at sea, disarmed, disrobed, and under the heavy influence of Curmanan sleeping powder.

“Hello, Your Majesty.” His lips pull into the kind of smile that could melt ice during the coldest winter. He’s the oldest adviser, nearly sixty, and seeing him not only reminds me of Bastian, but also of the way Father liked to joke with the baron. The way he would clap Lord Bargas on the shoulder and roar with one of his chest-rattling laughs.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Bargas.” I clear my throat and the emotion swelling within it, tucking it away for a later time when eyes are less prying. “I hear you were sleeping the last time we all met.” That earns me a few chuckles, even from the lord and the young woman sitting next to him.

“I assure you, it wasn’t by choice.” There’s a conspiring gleam in his eyes. “That blasted pirate even stole one of my favorite swords. Be sure to get that back for me, would you?”

I match his lively smile. “I’ll see what I can do. Who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

He claps a firm hand upon the young woman’s shoulder. “This is Azami Bargas, the daughter of my eldest brother, and my new successor. Azami will be fully taking over by spring.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Azami.”

She bows her head quick and low. “Likewise, Your Majesty.”

I’m surprised to find there are other faces here I don’t recognize. While most watch me with intrigue, Mornute’s new adviser steeples their fingers on the marble table, then taps anxious patterns upon it. With each tap of their fingers, tiny constellations dance around their lacquered black nails. When they catch me looking, they jolt to attention.

“Leo Gavel, Your Majesty!” Leo’s face is pleasantly youthful, with full peachy cheeks sprinkled with freckles enchanted to look like stars. Physically, Leo is small and plump, with striking features that give me a tinge of jealousy for all those able to practice enchantment magic. They’ve piercing yellow eyes and matching buzzed hair, and wear a lavender pantsuit with winged liner in a similar shade around their eyes. “We haven’t been able to meet since Mornute’s previous adviser was killed during the attack, but I assure you that I’m well trained. I look forward to working together.”

“As do I.” But my words are forced as my thoughts linger on the night of the attack, wondering how many people I let die. Because I couldn’t kill Kaven the first time he and I fought on Zudoh, how much blood am I responsible for spilling?

There’s yet another new face—the adviser representing Curmana, the island of mind magic, judging from his loose onyx pants and shimmering cape.

“I’m Elias Freebourne, and I’ll be filling in for my sister, who went into labor the morning we were loading the ship to journey here. I look forward to serving you, Your Majesty.” There’s a glint in his striking green eyes that warms my skin. I turn quickly away.

“This meeting is to discuss the unification of Visidia,” I tell them. “I’d like to focus on our restoration efforts with Zudoh and Kerost. While relations with the former are going as well as we can expect, we need to figure out a way to restore Kerost’s trust in us before they secede from the kingdom.” We let them suffer from the storms for far too long. We ignored them as a time trader profited off their pain and stole years of their lives. If we want to make it up to them, we’re going to have our work cut out for us.

Mornute’s adviser stirs. “I’m more than happy to discuss restoration efforts, Your Majesty. But my primary purpose for coming here is to discuss the well-being of Mornute, and how it’s being impacted by Visidia’s recent . . . changes.”

At once I know Leo is referring to my abolishment of the law preventing Visidians from practicing more than one magic. A law that was crafted upon the kingdom’s biggest lie, and that I put an end to the moment I took the throne.

For centuries the Montaras kept Visidians weak, ensuring they only practiced one magic—and never even had the ability to learn soul magic—so that no one could single-handedly overpower our family. They crafted a legend of a beast that would cause Visidia’s ruin should they break the law. A legend that tricked my people into believing that the Montaras alone could use dangerous soul magic to protect them. The story became so ingrained in our kingdom’s foundation that few people ever strayed.

Even now, my people don’t know what the Montaras—my family—did. They believe I vanquished the beast and freed magic. If they knew the truth, I wouldn’t be on the throne. I’d never have the chance to make things right.

So long as I wear this crown, I have only one goal: repent for the mistakes of my ancestors by breaking the Montara curse and freeing soul magic from our bloodline. I’ll make this kingdom whole by giving my people everything they were always meant to have, and finally tell them the truth.

And then, I’ll accept whatever punishment they see fit.

“I, too, would like to discuss how these changes are affecting our individual islands,” says the Suntosan adviser, Lord Garrison. He’s a stout man with a thick red beard that conceals half his face from view. It’s meticulously styled every time I’ve seen him, and soft, too. Like he coats it in oil every night. “Some of us have traveled great lengths to be here. It’s only right that we get to address our concerns.”

Mother’s reminder rings in my head—you’re not here to fight them. But gods, between his proud chin and assessing eyes, I can’t help myself. “I know our geography, Lord Garrison,” I say tersely, satisfied at the way his eyes narrow in surprise. “I’m very aware of how far you’ve traveled. I’m certainly happy to listen to everyone’s—”

“In the past,” he says, rolling over my words as though I haven’t spoken, “King Audric would open these meetings with each of us presenting our own thoughts and needs for the islands we represent, rather than opening himself—”

At the mention of Father, something in me snaps. Mother’s hand finds my knee beneath the table, squeezing it in warning. But her presence isn’t enough to prevent the malice that cracks my smile.

Lord Garrison was always loyal to Father, but like the rest of the advisers, he was politely cold to me. Up until this past fall, I was hardly allowed any interaction with the advisers. Father held too many secrets; until I earned the title of heir to the throne, I was never allowed details of these meetings. It was purposeless and frustrating, especially now as I sit at the head of a room, meant to lead a group of advisers who hardly know me and whose trust they believe I’ve not yet earned.

But they’re mistaken. I earned my place on this throne the moment I stabbed Kaven. I earned this seat with his blood and mine. I earned it with my magic, and the sacrifice of every life I took to get here.

Trust be damned. I’ve earned this crown with my soul.

“Thank you for letting me know how my father ran things. We all know he was a perfect ruler, never making a single mistake.” I straighten in my seat, pinning my eyes to Lord Garrison’s. “And considering how I was never allowed in those meetings, and that no one ever thought to include me, your information is very helpful. But I’d like to remind you, Lord Garrison, that my father is dead.” I don’t look away as he flinches, nor do I turn to Mother as her hand goes limp on my thigh. Instead, I keep my focus trained on the Suntosan adviser as he shifts with discomfort.

When he opens his mouth to speak, I hold up my hand and continue. “However the late king used to rule doesn’t matter, because he’s no longer the one who sits on the throne; I am. I’m not sure if you felt it was okay to condescend to me because I’m a woman, because of my age, or simply because I’m new to this position and you felt the need to establish some sort of dominance you do not and will never have. But the next time you open your mouth to speak to me, remember that you’re talking to your queen. Do you understand?”

From the corner of my eye, I catch Mornute’s adviser slack-jawed in their seat while the others look away in uncomfortable silence. Lord Garrison’s face turns scarlet, and I’m glad for his embarrassment. He deserves it.

“I understand, Your Majesty,” he practically huffs, as if uncertain whether to be surprised or apologetic.

“Good. Then I suppose we can continue with the discussion I’ve laid out?” I roll my shoulders back, making it a point to show that I’m relaxed, and not a tensed coil ready to spring again. “I am, of course, interested in discussing the aforementioned ‘changes,’ as well, as I suggested before your outburst. We can start with Leo.” Mornute’s adviser turns to me, and I smile once more, trying to ease their shock. Though most of the advisers are reserved, this one is still so new that they wear their expressions clearly on their face, and I like it. It makes me trust them more than most in this room.

Leo jolts to attention and grabs the parchment before them, rifling through it to gather their thoughts. “I want to discuss how the abolishment of this law will negatively impact our island. Our port town, Ikae, is the largest tourist destination in all Visidia, and is our most prominent source of income. We worry that if our magic makes its way to other islands, we’ll no longer be able to generate the same tourism we currently do. If anyone can make their town dazzling with enchantments, why will ours continue to be so appealing? I’m worried Mornute will be looking at a massive decrease in income due to this change.”

Their worry is a legitimate one, but it’s one I’ve already considered. “You’re right that this law will change things,” I tell Leo. “But Visidia has been due for a change for some time. And as it evolves, we must focus on evolving with it. While you’re right that Mornute is primarily a tourist destination, I believe you’re overlooking the monetary value of its alcohol exports.” The glimmer of curiosity that sparks in Leo’s eyes tells me I’m right; this isn’t something they’ve deeply considered. “Mornute’s climate lends itself well to being one of the few areas that can grow the ingredients needed to make great ale and wine in massive quantities. You can focus on expanding production; if the tourism rate in other towns goes up, so will its alcohol consumption, and they’ll need to import spirits from somewhere. There will be more of a demand for your products than ever, and perhaps even greater revenue as well.

“My suggestion to you is to get a head start on preparing for more alcohol sales,” I continue. “Expand the vineyards on the mountainsides. Plant more barley. And while you’re at it, consider developing a style of alcohol that’s unique to Ikae. Make enthusiasts come directly to the island if they want to experience it.”

Leo sits on this for a moment before they grin at their parchment, jotting notes. “It’s certainly something to consider. I’ll take this idea back to the island and see what we can do with it.”

I’m glad someone here is easy to communicate with. So long as Mornute can keep up with demand, it should never have to worry, and my idea seems to have put Leo at ease. The people of Mornute, especially those in the port city of Ikae, appreciate lavish lifestyles; I’m confident they’ll come up with plenty of other innovative ways to maintain that.

I hadn’t realized I’d been so stiff and rigid in my chair until Mother’s hand drifts away. I relax, knowing it’s a sign of her approval. My response seems to appease several of the other advisers as well, all of whom had been sitting at the edge of their seats, anxious to see how I’d do.

After the way I handled Lord Garrison, it takes most of the newer advisers time to work up the nerve to speak. But soon enough I settle into my confidence, appreciating the steady pattern of conversation we fall into. I relax into the conversation, stirring only when there’s a muffled shout at the double doors. I’m out of my seat, dagger in hand, when those doors are shoved open, much to the protest of the guards standing watch.

But my fingers weaken on the hilt as I see that the one standing there at the threshold, slipping around Casem’s reach, is the last person on this island that I want to see right now.

Bastian.

THREE

Standing at the door is the boy I’ve been avoiding for nearly a full season.

The boy who holds the missing half of my soul.

Dressed in sleek black pants and an iridescent opal shirt with the top several buttons left open, Bastian stands with a proud arrogance that makes him feel every bit the royal adviser he pretended to be the night we met. Hazel eyes catching mine, he brushes his hands across the dark stubble on his cheeks. The luster in his eyes is unmistakable.

He’s frustratingly handsome, and the bastard knows it.

Bastian strolls in without invitation, hesitating for only the briefest second at the sight of the polished, unscathed room. There’s a quick hitch in his jaw. Because of our curse, I feel the quick burst of terror in his chest that echoes within my own. Like me, he must be remembering the last night we were in this room, drowning in a river of Father’s blood. But he has no choice but to right himself, pulling Ferrick’s discarded chair from the corner and dragging it to the table. Wood screeches against marble, but the sound doesn’t deter him even as the advisers grimace.

I try to catch Bastian’s eye, but he doesn’t look at me even when he sits between me and Zale. Only then does he smile, so irritatingly charming that I want to reach out and use my nails to swipe it from his lips.

“Sorry I’m late.” He offers a casual wave of his hand. “Please, continue. No need to pause on my account.”

I press my hands into my lap so no one can see the nails digging in my palms as I ask him, “What are you doing?”

Bastian still doesn’t look at me as he combs his fingers over coiffed hair and stares wistfully ahead. “I’m here for the meeting.”

Every hair along my body bristles. “This meeting is for advisers only, Bastian.”

“Oh, so you do remember my name. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken that I was beginning to wonder.” His own voice lowers, and the huskiness within it does strange things to my stomach. “And I can do whatever I want, Princess. I helped save this kingdom.”

Princess. The nickname flares goose bumps across my skin.

“Besides, what are you going to do?” He leans in, whispering the next part only to me. “Kick me off the island?”

“You can’t make yourself an adviser,” Zale interrupts, eyes smiling despite the tension in her jaw. “But I would like to personally offer you a seat, Bastian. On behalf of Zudoh, we welcome your opinion.”

It takes everything in me to relax my hands. Knowing better than to go against Zale, I ignore the smugness that eats Bastian’s lips as he untucks a quill from behind his ear, licks the tip, and sets several slips of parchment on the table. He winks when he catches me staring.

Never has there been a time when I wanted to learn Curmanan mind speak more than this moment. If I practiced it, I’d be sure to tell Bastian exactly where he could shove that quill.

“We’ve a long way to go to help Zudoh,” Zale continues, steering us swiftly back on track. “We’re progressing, but it’ll take time for our island to recover from the neglect.”

“What about the water?” The smugness has left Bastian’s lips, and the sincerity that pulses within the words runs deep. Since Kaven’s death, the desire to restore Zudoh has nearly consumed him. Feeling his passion as potently as I feel my own, my anger wanes.

“Valukans are helping clear out the water, making it more habitable for sea life after the toll of Kaven’s curse,” Zale answers. “It’ll take time for fish to reappear, but we’re already seeing improvement.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I say. “Lord Bargas, we should discuss how best to divide the restoration efforts of the Valukans between Kerost and Zudoh . . .”

We speak for hours, back and forth, sharing ideas and coming to terms with changes that need to be made. And though the meeting started off rocky, by the end of it I’m relaxed in my seat, having taken off my crown to better focus. Some of the advisers have fresh perspectives, while others are stubbornly set in their old ways. But there isn’t one of us who doesn’t want what’s best for our people. And despite his grand entrance, I’m surprised to find that everyone is receptive to Bastian. Loath as I am to admit it, his ideas are valuable, and the love he has for his home island is genuine.

But as well as everything has gone so far, the challenge in Lord Garrison’s eyes is enough to warn me that it won’t all be so easy.

“Leo,” he says casually when it’s his turn to speak. “I believe it’s time Her Majesty knew about the papers.”

Leo’s eyes widen. Sharply, they turn to Lord Garrison. “I’ve already told you, the situation is handled.”

But Lord Garrison ignores them, huffing into his beard as he reaches deep into the inner pockets of his emerald coat. Parchment crinkles beneath his calloused fingertips as he slams it onto the table before us. I reach forward and grab it.

One of Ikae’s latest trends is parchment that’s been enchanted with moving images to show off the latest gossip and fashion. Vataea and my cousin Yuriel have been poring over them for weeks, but I’ve been too distracted to focus on what any of them have to say.

Apparently, that was a significant mistake on my part.

HER MAJESTY, AMORA MONTARA:

QUEEN OF OUR KINGDOM, OR VISIDIA’S BIGGEST THREAT?

Last summer, Queen Amora turned our kingdom on its head with the announcement that Visidians would no longer be forced to honor the centuries-old practice of using only a single magic.

While some have long desired this change, many are skeptical. The announcement came only days after the death of the late King Audric, and after Queen Amora was forced to take the throne despite her previous failure to perform the duties necessary of an animancer. Though our queen claims the beast that has lived within the Montara bloodline for centuries—the reason behind our single-magic law—was vanquished in the same fight that killed King Audric and Kaven Altair, it’s difficult to overlook the convenient timing.

From the moment our queen took the throne, the state of Visidia has been tumultuous to say the least. If the rapidly changing dynamics of magic aren’t enough to worry you, the shifting state of our kingdom should be. With Zudoh’s effort to rejoin the kingdom happening among threats of Kerost attempting to secede, one must wonder what Her Majesty is thinking with all these changes.

Perhaps it’s because she’s a young woman, or perhaps it’s because no one is around to tame her, but whatever the reason, one thing is certain—our queen is destroying Visidia. And if something doesn’t change with her soon, I fear the worst is yet to come.

There’s an accompanying picture of me from the day of my coronation, sitting before my people in the same scorched throne I sit in, now. Mother is placing the eel crown upon my head, and the people before me bow. I look stern and confident, shoulders back and chin held high.

But I remember that moment, and if one were to look hard enough at the corners of my eyes and the furrow of my brows beneath the jaws of the eel, they would see fear.

Fear that I wouldn’t be able to fix Visidia alone.

Fear that my people would discover the truth of the Montaras, and kill me before I could even try.

Not wanting to relive the memory, I draw my attention from the image and instead skim back to a single line, reading it repeatedly.

Our queen is destroying Visidia.

“Our people don’t trust you, Your Majesty.” The smugness in Lord Garrison’s voice is hardly enough to distract me from the anger that scalds my skin. “Ever since you failed to sufficiently perform soul magic during your performance last summer, they fear you’re unable to handle your magic.”

Thank the gods my people don’t know that I can’t even use my magic at all right now. My curse prevents me from accessing my soul magic, given that half of my soul is cursed within Bastian.

I am the High Animancer. The queen. If I cannot perform soul magic sufficiently, there’s little that would stop my people from ripping the crown from my head.

Mother’s face screws tight as she reads over the parchment; I can practically see her biting her tongue. Even Bastian opens his mouth to protest, but words die uselessly at his lips as he reads it again.

“What do you propose I do to change the kingdom’s perception of me?” I clench my hands against the arms of the chair and stare Lord Garrison dead in the eye. “Tell funnier jokes? Throw parties where the kingdom may dance and drink merrily? I didn’t just save Visidia from Kaven; I returned magic to this kingdom. And yet I need to be tamed?” I strike my fist upon the table. “For the sake of the gods, I am a queen!”

When Lord Garrison straightens, resentment poisons my mouth and coats my tongue. I drag my fists away and onto my lap, hiding my scraped knuckles beneath the table.

“You may have the title of a queen,” Lord Garrison says coolly, “but in the eyes of too many, you are still little more than a girl who fled her kingdom, who cannot be trusted with the power she wields.”

I hate him for not losing his temper. But I hate him even more because, after everything I learned about the Montaras last summer, I know he speaks the truth. “What Visidia needs is stability. We can’t only throw hardships at our people and expect them to be comfortable with a mere promise that, one day, things might be better. They need to trust you. They need to feel like they still have not only a queen, but a protector.”

I press my lips together and sink back into the chair. “I take it you have a solution in mind?”

It’s as though no other adviser’s in the room when Lord Garrison looks at me, confident and calculated. “I propose we give Visidia a distraction; something for them to focus on while we working toward changing the foundation of our kingdom. I want to give them a reason to root for you.”

The way he says it sends electricity flooding through my veins.

“You’re the queen, now.” He savors each word. “Your duty is to your kingdom, and part of this duty is that you’ll be expected to continue the Montara lineage by providing the throne’s next heir as soon as possible. Because of this, you’ll need to take a husband.”

Perhaps it’s because no one is around to tame her.

I feel Bastian’s resentment spike, just as bitter as my own. But when he sets his hands on the table as though he’s about to stand, I kick his shin and fix him with a look that demands he remain seated. This isn’t his battle.

“Technically I don’t need a husband to produce an heir,” I start, but Mother cuts me with a pointed look. I can’t help but notice she’s taken no stance against his suggestion. “What are your thoughts?” I ask her sharply.

“I just want you to be safe,” she answers with every drop of the exhaustion that’s rattling my bones. “If a husband can settle our kingdom . . . it might be worth considering.”

“So what,” Bastian growls, ignoring me when I knock my boot against his shin for the second time. “You want to marry her off? She’s your queen, not your pawn.”

Lord Garrison sets his hands on the table, keeping himself tall. “Politics is a game, son. Everyone is a pawn.”

From the rest of the advisers, an overwhelming silence is their only response.

“I propose we send notice to each of the islands,” Lord Garrison continues, though I no longer look at him. I press a hand to my forehead instead, willing away the headache blossoming against my temples. “We’ll tell them you’re on your way to meet their most eligible bachelors. We’ll be loud about it, and ensure everyone’s attention is on you. We’ll distract the kingdom from how quickly everything around them is changing.”

“It’s a clever idea.” Zale’s voice is soft and regretful when she chimes in. “We could use it as an opportunity for you to curry favor, Amora, and have the islands get to know you. The people would feel engaged; like you’re one of them, and part of this kingdom. Love also makes you vulnerable. It makes you soft, and that softness is what people need to see from you. This could give Visidia hope.”

It takes everything in me not to let her feel the extent of my rage, even as the rest of the advisers nod their agreement.

It’s barely been two seasons since I broke off the engagement with Ferrick, and already they’re trying to pawn me off on another man. Just the idea of it’s enough for me to push from the table, rising on legs that threaten to shake with anger.

“I’ve spent over eighteen years training to be in the position I’m in.” I grit the words through my teeth, having to reel in my emotions with each one. “I’ve studied the books of our history. The maps. Magic. Weapons. Strategy. Court. Tell me, what man is out there who has done the same? What man could possibly be ready to sit at my side and help lead a kingdom?” I try to steady my wavering voice; it’s not one that comes from nerves, but from hate. Not at Lord Garrison or the other advisers, but at the sheer fact that, deep down, I recognize this idea has its merits.

The kingdom needs something to distract them, and I told myself I’d do whatever it took to right the wrongs left behind by the Montaras. But this?

Across the table, Lord Garrison remains calm as the summer sea. “I admire your tenacity to strengthen the kingdom, but as I’ve already said, Visidians need to trust their ruler. No one has even seen your strength. You may have stopped Kaven, but since you failed during your ceremony last summer, no one has seen your magic. With Arida’s prisons at capacity, many have their hesitations about you, Your Majesty. Rumors you can’t use your magic at the level of a High Animancer have been circulating; many believe you don’t have the control over your soul magic to even execute prisoners, let alone protect Visidia. It’s time for damage control. It’s time to show the kingdom that you’re vulnerable—that you’re so open to listening to the concerns of commoners that you’d even consider bringing one of them into the kingdom as your husband.”

Mother’s face slackens as I freeze. This is the first I’ve heard whispers about my magic.

“There’ve been more urgent concerns than executing prisoners.” It’s Bastian’s sharp voice that cuts in, and I’m thankful for the moment it gives me to collect myself. “Her magic is fine.”

Though Lord Garrison nods, the corners of his eyes crease with a scrutiny that says he doesn’t fully believe the lie. “Of course. That’s why a tour like this would be so beneficial, so that Her Majesty might show the kingdom she’s not only powerful, but that she’s someone they can trust. That she hears their worries and will do what’s best for the kingdom.”

I taste the start of blood at my bottom lip from how roughly I worry at it. “I’ll put an end to any rumors about my magic tonight,” I say before I can decide better of it. “I’ll address all prisoners who’ve been sentenced to an execution by my magic, and I invite you to watch, Lord Garrison. And if anyone else here is concerned about my magic, you’re welcome to join us.”

Both Mother and Bastian try to catch my eye, but I refuse to pay them any mind. Here before the others, I must maintain my most dismissive calm even as my heart races so fiercely that it can’t be long before I crack.

I need to get out of here. I need to plan and think, far from whispers or advisers and the swirling mass of Bastian’s nerves that eat at me.

The sooner I can squash those rumors about my magic, the better. On top of everything else, the discovery of my missing magic is the last thing I need.

“I’ll consider this proposal, Lord Garrison,” I announce to the table, hiding my shaking hands. “And I’ll see you tonight.”

FOUR

Bastian catches up to me before I can escape back to my room, breathless as he seizes hold of my wrist.

I jump from the jolt of his skin on mine. His touch blazes through me like fire, igniting my veins. It makes me want to give myself to him, to let him hold me and just burn.

It’s why I’ve been doing everything in my power to stay away from him.

“You’re really going to run out like that?” he demands, his hair windswept from running, hazel eyes fixed on mine. “You have no magic, Amora. How do you think you’re going to get away with this, especially with others watching?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” I whip my hand back from him, as though he’s a flame threatening to char my skin. “I need others to watch. That’s the only way I have a chance at putting a stop to the rumors that something happened to my magic.”

His fists are clenched, the muscles in his neck taut. “But do you have a plan? You know, that thing where you pause to think about what you’re doing before you announce to an entire room that you’re going to do it?”

“Of course I do,” I argue. “I have a . . . a contingency plan.”

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh? What kind of contingency plan?”

I clamp my teeth together, tempering the frustration that’s bubbling within me. “One that will work.” But also, one I hoped I’d never have to use. One with too many variables, when we have only one chance to get this right. I know full well how risky it is—one misstep, and my entire reign will go down in flames before it’s even begun. But I’ve known this day would come since the moment I took the throne, and this is the only idea that stands a chance.

Bastian sighs. “You don’t need to do this by yourself. Just . . . talk to me. You and I are better together; let me help you.”

For a fleeting moment, I want little more than exactly that. But I trusted Father with everything, and look where that got me. I will not put my faith solely in another person, again.

“You can help me by staying away tonight.” I keep my voice terse, trying to ignore the way his grief slices into me. Every fiber of my body buzzes with the wrongness of this emotion that isn’t my own. “You’re a distraction, Bastian. And I can’t have any distractions when I’m down in the prison.”

Maybe they’re cruel words. But as his face falls, I know they’ve worked. For now, that’s all that matters.

“You’ve been avoiding me all fall. I’m sure I can manage to stay away from you for one night.” He leans away from me and crosses his arms over his chest. The stance looks almost casual, but I’m not fooled. Frustration boils within him, heating my skin. “But what about what they said in the meeting? Are you . . . Is that something you want?”

“Getting married?” I snort. “Of course it isn’t. But you can’t deny the idea has merit.”

“It’s a safe idea,” he challenges, gritting the words between clenched teeth. His anger is a dark and vicious storm of emotions that swells within me.

“There’s nothing wrong with trying to be safe.” I haven’t had the chance to truly consider the idea, but I can’t help but want Bastian to feel a little sting from my words. I want him to know that, regardless of this curse linking us, he doesn’t own me. He is not my destiny, and though I might want him, I don’t need him. “Visidia’s lost too much. My mother has lost too much. What’s wrong with having some stability?”

“There’s nothing wrong with stability. But it shouldn’t mean sacrificing who you are.” He steps forward and reaches out as if to touch me. Though every inch of my body burns for that touch, I flinch back, only realizing a moment too late what I’ve done.

Bastian stills, stricken. His chest doesn’t move—for a moment, he doesn’t breathe.

“You just got out of one engagement; don’t trap yourself again.” His words have turned to a whisper, soft and pleading.

“This isn’t a sudden suggestion.” I keep my voice hard. “There’s a reason my family engaged me to Ferrick last summer, and now there are too few options left to be the heir. I have to consider it—I’ll do whatever it takes to repair this kingdom, and if that means I must put a ring on my finger to do it, or fake whatever I must fake so that my people can rest easy, then I will.”

His jaw snaps shut, and I can practically hear his teeth grinding together. I’m about to dismiss myself, unable to bear the tension any longer, when his posture relaxes.

“Fine.”

Bastian speaks with such finality that, for a moment, I’m almost offended he hasn’t tried harder to stop me. At the very least I expected an outburst, yet his anger comes cool and bitter.

“Fine?” “That’s what I said.” His voice is calm, but brisk. “It’s fine. In fact, you should do it.”

It’s as though he’s struck me straight in the chest. I turn away, unwilling to let him see the anger festering inside me. “This is all it took you to back off? Stars, maybe I should have begun courting ages ago.”

Bastian’s laugh is smooth as wine. In his nearness, I can practically taste the familiar sea-salt scent of his skin. “Who said anything about backing off? The plan would be to meet the most eligible bachelors in all Visidia, right? And see if you have a connection with any of them?”

I watch him warily, eyes narrowed. “That’s correct.”

His breathing settles. Though his eyes are dark, determination has hardened them. The smile he flashes is nearly enough to melt me to the floor, warm and rich and brilliant. “Then if that’s what you decide to do, let’s not forget that I’m a bachelor, too. And I’m very, very eligible.”

As the shock of his words settles in, I find I can barely move my lips, let alone form words. Sweat coats my palms, and I wipe them by pretending to smooth out my dress. My mouth is dry and my cheeks hot and flustered. The last thing I want is for him to notice, though the attempt is useless. This boy can feel my very soul.

“If you’ll excuse me.” I turn away before my thundering heart can betray me to him and the entire kingdom. “I have to prepare for this evening.”

The last thing I see from Bastian is that he bows his head.

There’s a smirk in his voice as he calls out, “You won’t be able to ignore me forever, Princess.”

But until I can sort out these emotions roiling within me, I’m sure as stars going to try.

FIVE

My boots sink into blood-red sand as Casem and I lead the advisers to the prison beneath the cast of a silver moon. Only two have showed up—Lord Garrison and Lord Freebourne. For the others, I’m sure the grotesque rumors of my magic have outweighed their curiosity.

Growing up, Father and I journeyed into these prisons once every year for a single purpose—to rid Visidia of its most dangerous criminals, by using our magic to execute them. Back then I’d thought I was protecting Visidia with my magic, as my kingdom still wrongly believes. The soul magic that Father and I practiced was corrupt and grotesque, but until this past summer I didn’t know any better. Our magic is the result of a curse on our bloodline to punish my ancestor Cato, who originally tricked everyone into believing they could only practice one magic for their protection.

Once I break both the Montara curse and my curse to Bastian, my soul magic should return to the way it was always intended to be used—as something peaceful and protective that allows its users to read souls and the intent of them. And though I’m excited to get to know that version of my magic, I can’t help but acknowledge the sliver of fear.

Grotesque as my magic may have been, I’d always believed I was using it to protect others. And for that reason, I grew to love it.

“Are you feeling okay about this?” It’s Casem’s whisper that breaks our silence, pulling me from my thoughts. This isn’t the time to feel mournful.

“Now is as good a time as any,” I tell him. “Let’s get this over with.”

I guide the others up a steep cliffside and deep into a thicket of rainbow eucalyptus, inwardly pleased by Lord Garrison’s huffing and stumbling. Unlike him, I need nothing more than starlight to guide me through this island I know so well. This island that has etched itself inside my soul. In my lungs. In the salt that burns the cracked skin of my palms. I could close my eyes and still lead the others through Arida without missing a step.

Built like a cavern into the cliffside, the prison’s exit is guarded by three skilled soldiers—two Valukans with an affinity toward earth and air, and a Curmanan with mind magic, skilled with levitation. As they step aside to let us through, even more guards wait within the prison.

Typically, Father would send them away for our executions. But whether it’s because I’m new to doing this on my own or because they’re suspicious of why I’ve avoided the prisons for so long, several guards tail us from a distance, as if expecting me to give the command for them to leave at any moment. But it’s good that the guards are here. The more people who witness this, the better.

Sweat beads my temples as we journey through the dank tunnels, taking the musty dirt path that leads to the section of the prison that hosts the worst of the criminals. As we arrive, nerves seize my chest as I peer into the tiny window carved into an iron door.

A willowy, blond-haired woman glares back at me. Her skin is pale and eyes hollow; on her neck is the familiar black tattoo of an X—the mark of someone charged and tried for premeditated murder. Her hands are bound tightly before her, covered with a thick burlap sack. Every inch of her skin is covered with cloth, and on her feet are irremovable metal boots that tell me she’s a Valukan with an affinity toward earth. Without being able to connect her body with the earth through touch, her ability to control the element is nonexistent.

There are others behind her—five total, bound by chains to the wall. All of whom are to be executed tonight.

I hold my position outside the cell as the guard opens the door. Curiosity is ablaze within all the guards’ eyes. The majority of them stand to the side as I enter, arms folded behind them as they watch with hawk like focus. The advisers stand with them, and Lord Garrison watches expectantly as the woman’s gags are torn from her.

“I was beginning to think you’d never show up.” She keeps her voice playful even when her eyes flit this way and that, searching for the nearest exit. With as many guards as there are patrolling the prison, it’d be pointless for her to run. But that hasn’t stopped prisoners from trying.

I close the remaining space between her and pluck a hair from her scalp. When she flinches away from my touch, I see the mark I’m looking for. On her bound hands, just above the edge of the burlap that’s meant to be covering all of her, is a faint lilac tattoo on her inner forearm—two skeletal fish forming crossbones beneath a skull. It’s tiny, nearly impossible to see, but it gives me all the courage I need to press on. Clutching the hair in my fist, I say a silent prayer that this will work.

“I need fire,” I tell the closest guard.

Soul magic is based upon equivalent exchange; if I want to take a bone from someone, I must offer a bone and something of their person—usually a hair. If I want their tooth, then I offer a tooth in return. And if I want to kill them, I must use their blood.

However, there’s no one way to use soul magic; everyone who has ever wielded it has done so in a unique way. My father used water for drowning, my aunt swallows the bones and uses the acid in her stomach to destroy them. I use fire to burn the blood and bones of my victims.

Likely anticipating my request, a Valukan guard obliges by drawing a powerful breath from her gut. When she breathes out again it’s with an extended palm. In it, a tiny flame flickers and stretches to life, building each time the Valukan exhales. She sets the flames upon a small pit built into the cell, created for exactly this purpose, and it flares brightly. I open my palm and dangle the hair above it.

“What’s your name?”

The prisoner’s easy demeanor falters. Her expression becomes tart as she attempts to rise to her feet, but the heavy boots trip her, and there’s nowhere for her to go. Only bound prisoners wait behind her, and a handful of Visidia’s strongest magic wielders before her.

“Don’t try it,” I warn as her eyes flick toward the single exit. “I’ll ask you one more time—what’s your name?” I reach for the satchel on my hip, relishing the way my skin buzzes against the burnished leather, missing having a reason to reach for it. From it, I draw a single tooth and wind the prisoner’s hair around it.

For me, teeth are the most humane way I know to get the amount of blood I need to end a person’s life. While uncomfortable, it’s fairly painless.