All the Stars and Teeth(2)
There’s not much time left before we dock. The waters are growing shallow, beating angrily against the ship as we near Arida. A small crowd of servants and royal soldiers wait for us on the red sand, ready to whisk us away in preparation for tonight.
“No.” Father squares his shoulders to block me out.
I duck around him to claim his stare. “Yes. Just this once?”
Father’s sigh makes his broad chest quiver. He must sense how badly I want this, because for the first time in my life he steps aside and offers me the helm. My free hand grips the smooth wood without missing a second, and I suppress a shudder at how it feels between my palms.
Natural. Like my hands were built for this.
“You must go slowly,” Father says, but I’m only half listening. The ship feels every bit the beast I wanted it to, able to take on the sea’s promise of adventure and conquer anything in its path. It’s strong, fearless, but I sense its reluctance to listen to me. This ship is like my people; it demands only the most deserving captain, and will accept no less.
I scrape my nail gently against the wood and twist the helm, just an inch. The ship shudders in response, considering me. Father lingers close, his hands twitchy and ready to take over should something go awry. I won’t let it.
I am Amora Montara, Princess of Visidia and heir to the High Animancer’s throne. There is no ship I cannot sail. There is nothing I cannot master.
The wind shifts with a gust of air, disturbing the sails and pushing the vessel an inch or so to the left. It’s not a big shift, but the ship is challenging me, and I’m not one to lose. I adjust my grip on the helm to correct it.
I don’t need to look up to know we’re coming into shallow water. I can feel it in the ship’s behavior, in the way its steady back-and-forth lulling stiffens into something rigid and fierce.
“Tighten the grip of your left hand.” Father’s voice is distant, but I do as he says. The ship creaks in response.
I am Amora Montara. I dig my nail into The Duchess again when the ship quivers. The power of Arida is within me. You will obey.
The Duchess groans as we hit the sand, and the impact rattles my chest. I lose my footing and scramble to get a better grip, but the helm is slippery from the ocean’s mist, and my face slams into it. Jagged wood scuffs my cheek, causing the ship to laugh as it settles into the sand. I pull back, running a finger along my skin. It comes away dripping blood.
The ship has won, and she knows it. I can’t remember the last time anything made me bleed.
“Amora!” Father’s voice cracks in horror. Anger swells in my belly as I glare at the hands that have betrayed me.
Blasted ship. All it had to do was listen.
“By Cato’s blade, you’re bleeding.”
Tonight, I must be perfect. There’s no room for ugly injuries that signal weakness.
“It’s just a scratch.” I shoo him away. “Mira will be able to cover it.”
Father wears guilt in the wrinkles between his pinched brows. The sight of it makes anger rip through my veins like poison. It’s not his fault I’m bleeding. It’s not his fault I cannot command even a ship to listen to me.
I take Father’s arm before he can say anything else.
We descend the bridge of The Duchess, to where Mira waits upon sand the color of fresh blood, standing between several rigid men and women who sport light blazers with rose-gold trim. She wears loose black trousers and a matching top that billows from her small frame, fastened by tiny pearl shoulder straps that shimmer beneath her hair—a thick stream of waves as dark and sleek as a raven’s feather. The solid rose-gold trim along her outfit matches the royal emblem she wears proudly on her chest; it’s the same as the others wear—the skeleton of an eel wrapped around a crown of whalebone.
Though she’s hardly older than I am, Mira’s sharp face is prematurely wrinkled from constant anxiety. In her five years as my lady-in-waiting, she’s taken every moment possible to fuss over me, as protective as my parents. When she catches sight of my cheek, she gasps and draws me forward.
“Today of all days.” She fishes a handkerchief from her pocket and rubs it across my cheek. Fierce disapproval lingers in the backs of her squinted blue eyes, and as I await the verdict, she frowns. “The wound’s fresh, so we may be able to conceal it if we act quickly. Come, let’s get you ready.”
I glance back at Father, seeking his smile of encouragement. But it withers into a frown as the officials draw him in, whispering secrets not meant for unproven successors. I take a step toward him, silently begging him to turn and seek my counsel or invite me into the discussion, but Mira grabs hold of my hand.
“You know they won’t tell you anything.” Though her voice is soft, the words feel like claws. “Not until after your performance.”
I shake Mira’s hand away, letting the ship steal my attention. Its wood creaks with laughter as it settles onto the sand, mocking me.
The sound sinks into my bones, and I wonder: If I cannot rule one ship, then how am I ready to rule an entire kingdom?
CHAPTER TWO
Ikaeans have enchanted the torchlight, blanketing the crowded path beneath my balcony in dazzling shades of pinks, blues, and purples.
Hundreds of Visidians climb the steep cliffs from the beach’s shore up to where the celebration begins below the palace, some of them using paved pathways while those more adventurous weave in and out of rainbow eucalyptus and up the switchback, choking on jeers and quick breaths as they race one another. A group of Curmanan soldiers wait at the shore to help those who can’t or prefer not to make the climb. They lift children and families into the air and high up the northern cliffs to where the celebration awaits. They’re skilled enough with their levitation magic that it comes as easily as their breaths.