All the Stars and Teeth(14)
Father holds me tight, strong fingers digging into my skin harder and harder until my vision clears and I gag on the stench of blood. I begin to shake as I take in the stains on my palms and fingertips, the smoke scalding my lungs. The stones beneath me sway as the realization hits: I lost control of my magic.
Dizziness makes my weight betray me, and I collapse to my knees.
I let loose the beast, and it stole my senses until it claimed me entirely.
Aran lies before me, dead. He no longer looks human, all shredded flesh and mangled limbs. I clench my hands to the dirt as I try to recognize him, but it’s useless. When used correctly, my magic is meant to give someone a swift death. But there was nothing swift about this; Aran was tortured and maimed.
And I’m the one who did it.
I press my forehead against the dirt, eyes stinging as I bend before his body. “I’m sorry. By the gods, I’m so sorry.”
But my apologies don’t matter. As I hear the words Visidia’s people scream, I know even the gods can’t help me now.
“It’s the beast!”
“She’ll destroy everything!”
“She’s the one who should be executed! She’ll kill us all!”
I spot Mother’s face at the front of the crowd. Her body goes rigid while Aunt Kalea’s face falls with horror. Yuriel is between them, his hand clenching his mother’s arm tightly. His once wine-flushed face is now ashen with panic. Father stands before me, back turned to the crowd so that only I can see the terror in his eyes or the raggedness of his breaths. When his hands begin to shake, he presses them tight at his sides. My own hands are coated with blood, and I’m not the only one staring at them.
“I can’t protect you from this,” Father whispers urgently, almost as if the desperate words are meant for himself. Then he says it louder, in a harsh whisper that cracks his voice. “By the gods, Amora, I can’t protect you from this!”
I’ve no time to compose myself before arms yank me up from behind. Two guards slide their hands under my arms, narrowly avoiding slicing their faces on the spiked bones on my crown and the jagged epaulettes as they pin me tight.
“I’m sorry.” Father’s chest heaves. “I’m going to try my best to fix this.”
The world is spinning. Spinning. Spinning. A vicious coolness spreads deep into my bones. It starts in my stomach and spreads to my legs, then down my arms. Prickles of darkness plague my vision and threaten to overwhelm me as the aftershocks of too much magic make their move.
If not for the arms around me, I wouldn’t be able to stand. It’s taking everything in me to rein the beast within me back. To keep it tamed.
I try to keep my eyes open on Father, steadying my vision enough to see him turn his face away and clamp his eyes shut in disappointment. It’s a look that cleaves through my chest and leaves me aching.
Hundreds of Visidians stare back at me without mercy, and I shut my eyes against their yells, wishing I’d let the magic consume me fully.
I barely let myself hear Father as he speaks, his words like a thousand knives.
“Take her to the prison.”
CHAPTER FIVE
I steady my trembling vision on the cell bars, using it as a focus point to anchor myself.
Hugging my knees tight, I try to conserve my warmth against the bitter cold that rips at my skin. Though I’ve been in these prisons many times before, it’s never been like this—stripped of my weapons and left forgotten in a cell.
I was five years old when Father first brought me to the prisons, late one autumn night. I’d been bleary-eyed and half-awake as we traveled down the switchback, watched by only the stars as the rest of Arida slept unaware. It wasn’t until the moonlight winked out behind us and my eyes were forced to adjust to the sparse torchlight of the prison that he told me it was time to claim my magic.
I’d been excited. But there’d also been a pervading chill in my bones that bloomed the deeper into the prisons that we traveled. The sense of realizing something significant was about to happen, but not truly understanding what that meant.
Centuries ago, Valukans helped build the prison at the base of the mountain, hollowing it out to form three long tunnels that each formed a unique prison.
The first tunnel is for petty crimes and short sentences. Security in this sector is fairly minimal, with palace guards posted outside the entrance.
The second is reserved for more offensive crimes, such as assault, or even murder in some cases. The security there is stronger; all the guards are highly trained magic-wielders from the various islands.
The third prison is for the most dangerous criminals, and is reserved only for those with souls that Father or I have deemed the most dangerous. It’s a prison for those who didn’t just kill once, but would kill a hundred times more. Those who have assaulted their victims in the most despicable ways, and have no remorse. Its security is some of the best in the kingdom; there are no cells, but sealed rooms protected by guards I’d never want to go toe to toe against in a fight.
It was deep into the third tunnel that Father and I traveled. Nerves gripped my neck, making the hairs stand as the walls surrounding us grew tighter and darker. With every step forward, the metallic tang of blood grew denser in the air.
We didn’t stop until we’d reached the farthest sealed room, pausing only so a guard could use three separate keys to let us in.