All the Stars and Teeth(106)

The pain in Father’s scream spears through me, but I force it away to focus. Kaven’s magic may be strong, but it’s not limitless. I summon my strength and brandish my daggers, closing the space between myself and Kaven. I eye his wrist for a bracelet—for his connection to my curse and Father’s—but his skin is bare.

Bastian shifts to my side, tense as he eyes his brother. He grips his pommel tight. “We’re going to do this,” he whispers, more to himself than to me. “We’re going to end this.”

“We’re not going to do a thing until we break his connection to my father,” I tell him. “I need you to stall.”

He nods as Kaven turns to us and spits blood onto the floor. “Hello again, little brother.” His teeth gleam red. “How’s the new curse treating you?”

Bastian falters, forehead wrinkling. But when Kaven grins, Bastian shakes it off and points his sword ahead of him.

“There’s still time to back down, Kaven,” Bastian says, his grip firm and sword unwavering. “No one else has to die.”

His brother shakes his head, half of his face shadowed by the flames. “I’ve come too far to let it end here. Visidia deserves better than a monarchy of liars and thieves. You’re the one who still has time to back down; we can end the Montaras together, and share this magic with all. No more laws. No more division.”

My hands shake as I clench Rukan tight, though I know I can’t bring myself to use the blade. Not while Kaven still uses Father as his shield.

Bastian steps in front of me, putting himself between me and his brother. “Get your father out of here.”

Kaven’s lips flatten as his silver eyes narrow. “That’s your decision, then? After everything the Montaras did to us, you choose to protect her?”

“She’s more than her blood,” Bastian growls. “And I am more than mine. You’re the reason our parents are dead, Kaven. You’re the reason our home is destroyed. I spent years dreaming that things could return to normal one day, and that you might realize your mistakes and put an end to this chaos. But you killed that dream, and buried it deep as those whose blood you’ve spilled. It’s time we end this.”

Bastian strikes.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


The clash of steel roars through the air.

The further the flames build, the more my vision blurs and my throat squeezes. Fire licks at my feet, nipping my leather boots. I kick the flames away and run to Father, who chokes on thick smoke.

If we want to stay alive, we need to get out of here.

Father’s satchel has fallen beside him, scattering bones onto the floor. He’s clearly tried his magic against Kaven, and I don’t need to ask to understand the outcome. It’s like Bastian and Keel Haul—hurt the ship and Bastian feels it, but hit Bastian and the ship goes on as if nothing’s happened. Just like the ship, Kaven is immune to the effects of the curse while Father suffers.

Father isn’t strong enough to grit through the pain of harming himself when he tries to attack Kaven. It’s likely he’s holding back, because anything Kaven feels, Father feels. Where Kaven bleeds, Father bleeds. Part of Father’s soul lives within Kaven.

I crouch down beside him and try to wrap my arms around Father’s broad body, throwing all my strength into helping him straighten.

“Go,” I yell, pushing him toward the door. “Go! We need to get you somewhere safe.”

Every breath he takes comes in a tight wheeze. I try to push him away, but Father snags hold of my hand. His eyes are molten brown, fearful and earnest. They pool with tears as he blinks through the smoke and looks up at me.

“I’ve failed you,” he begins, though his words are cut off by a vicious cough that rattles his entire body.

“Later,” I tell him. “We don’t have time.” My chest shakes with the effort of trying to drag Father away; he’s dead weight.

“You’re right,” is all he whispers. I’m ready to yell. Ready to jab my dagger into the back of his leg and force him out. But the moment our eyes meet, my vision clouds white as Father strikes his palm straight into my chest.

I reel back, lungs emptying.

Somehow, the two of us are no longer in the throne room, but standing alone in a tainted white-gray void. There are no fires in this strange, endless space. No smacks of steel, and no bleeding bodies. Only Father, who stands tall before me.

I peer down at my palms. The blood that stained them has disappeared, as have my injuries. I’ve never seen magic like this. “What did you—”

“As you said, we don’t have much time.” Father reaches his hand out and I step toward him, letting his calloused hand cup my chin. His rich brown eyes search my soul, brows knitting as he seeks something he will not find.

“Kaven told me what he did,” Father whispers, “but I never believed it could be true.”

I draw back, and his hand falls to his side, still. All of the rage I’ve buried festers, boiling within me until I can no longer contain it.

“We could have stopped him.” The words tumble out of me, knotted with rage. “You knew the truth of our magic years ago, and you did nothing. Why? We could have prevented all of this.”

This strange place agitates my skin and strengthens the rage within me. Gray smoke curls around a plane of white, as if choking it. It’s airless, still and suffocating.