All the Stars and Teeth(18)
This man, whatever his true motives may be, is the best chance I’ve got.
I don’t second-guess what my gut tells me. Ignoring how wildly my blood pulses, I remove my crown and the flowers Mother wove through my hair, then undo my epaulettes and let them drop to the dirt like discarded trophies. I pull my hair from its loose bundle at my neck, letting the thick curls fall past my shoulders. Though I wanted nothing other than to show off these adornments earlier, I feel light as air now that they’re gone.
“You saw what I did to Aran,” I warn him, thumbing the lip of my satchel, comforted by the clacking of bones inside. “One wrong move, and I’ll do the same to you.”
When he doesn’t argue, I slip around him and bolt to the exit. Now that they see the glint of my blade and hear the rattle of bones and teeth as I walk, the prisoners no longer jeer.
I take off down the tunnel with Bastian in tow, certain I know the way better than he does. Being in the first tunnel, we don’t have far to go to reach the entrance. Yet nervousness prickles my skin as we run, our footsteps echoing off the walls. Each one sounds like the shot of a cannon, too loud and too jarring. Darkness stretches around us, eerier than ever without the gossip of the guards. When Bastian points to a cell I squint my eyes, trying to make out shapes in the shadows. Eventually my vision adjusts, and I see the distinctive outline of three large figures slumped into the cell.
“Curmanan herbs?” I flash him a look, and he grins.
“Aye. Potent when inhaled, but not as long lasting as when they’re ingested.” Even as he says it one of the guards begins to stir, murmuring words of confusion under his breath. I grab hold of Bastian’s hand and pull him along, dragging him up the stairs and to the exit.
The moment fresh air smacks against my skin, I’m forced to squint my eyes shut, taken aback by the sudden brightness of the moonlight and the luminescent flora that lights our path.
Because the prisons are built at the base of the mountains, we’re far from the celebration happening in town. The only voices are still distant, though I know better than to get comfortable. If there’s one thing I know about Ferrick, it’s that he’s smart. He likely noticed the prison’s lack of security and is already on his way back with reinforcements; we need to hurry to the docks.
“What’s your affinity?” I peek over the cliffside—it’s about fifty feet down to the docks, and while I know every step of this island and am confident I can get there quickly, I don’t trust Bastian to keep up.
“Earth?” Bastian says, though it sounds more like a question than an answer.
“Perfect. Hurry and build some stairs into the cliffside. We’ll collapse them once we hit the sand.”
But instead of grounding himself into a proper stance or making any motion of using his magic, Bastian draws a step back. “I think it’s best if we walk. We wouldn’t want to cause a commotion.”
When he presses his lips together, I can practically feel his anxiety. I turn to him fully as understanding dawns, and I look at his hands—they’re calloused and a little sandy, but otherwise pristine. No dirt under his manicured nails. And his stance is all wrong; he’s lighter on his feet than any earth-affinitied Valukan I’ve ever known.
I draw my blade and, before he has time to react, press it firmly against his throat.
“You’re no Bargas.” I use my free hand to grab him by the hair, keeping him steady. “You don’t have an affinity, do you?”
Bastian’s eyes flicker down to my blade as he sighs. “Well, this certainly isn’t very polite of you. I’m the one who gave you that back.” I press the blade closer. “Ouch! Fine, no, I’m no Valukan! I’m a sailor. Now put that thing down and I’ll explain—”
I tighten my grip on his hair and yank him toward the edge of the cliff, letting the dagger nick his skin. Bastian grabs hold of my arms to steady himself, his breaths quickening. One push, and he’s as good as dead.
“Tell me what you did to the baron,” I press. “You have his seal!”
Bastian’s eyes flicker to the corner, grimacing at the drop behind him. When he hesitates to answer, I lower him farther off the ledge until his knees begin to shake.
“He’s fine! Stars! I promise you, he’s fine. I snuck aboard his ship before he left Valuka and dumped a pouch of sleeping herbs into their wine and water barrels. What I used on these guards was the last of my supply; that’s why they’re already waking up. But the baron and his crew ingested enough that, if I had to guess, they’re about halfway to Arida, napping in the middle of the sea.”
I clench my teeth together. “I know better than to trust a man who’s stolen not only his clothing, but also his name.” I scoff. “You’re nothing more than a thieving pirate.”
Bastian throws his hands up in defense. “As I said, I prefer the term ‘sailor.’ And really, this whole thing is a big misunderstanding. So, if you put that thing down…”
The once distant voices grow closer, and I hesitate to press the blade any deeper. If I’m going to leave, it needs to be now.
I find my magic waiting and tentatively wrap it around myself—just enough to warm my skin—and focus on reading Bastian’s soul. With my magic still weakened from the performance, there’s a missing piece I can’t read. I see only a misty veil of light gray, and the spirit of adventure lingering in his soul. It’s enough to tell me he’s not a threat, but I don’t let on that I know that just yet.