All the Stars and Teeth(26)
“I suppose you could say that,” he admits. “It’s not the type of ship that requires a crew.”
Magic, then. But none I’ve seen before. Even the most talented Curmanans have to travel in groups to steer heavy ships, and this is nothing like the protective curse magic I was taught Zudians practiced.
I watch him from the corner of my eye, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He takes a small hunk of his bread and tosses it into the sea. A fish larger than any I’ve seen floats to the surface and sucks it up before the seagulls can steal it.
I take another bite of bread. “Well, if you won’t tell me about that, will you at least tell me how familiar you are with Kaven? If Zudoh’s barricaded off as you said it is, how’d you get off the island?”
Tension knots his shoulders. He chucks another bit of bread into the water before finishing his off. “I left ages ago, before the barricade. I knew Kaven back then, when this mess was first getting started. He stole my magic from me, and I intend to take it back.”
The fog must have finally made its way through my coat and into my bones. The chill of it touches my core.
“What do you mean he stole your magic?” I wrap my arms around myself, words nearly catching. Magic is part of a person’s being; everyone has it. You can learn it, study it, grow with it, but you cannot make it disappear once it’s yours. Even if you never use it, it’s still forever with you. “There’s never been a report of someone being able to do that. It’s impossible.”
“There’s never been a report of a magical ship, either. Yet, here we are.” Bastian waves his arm behind him to gesture around Keel Haul. “The world doesn’t work with only your eyes, Princess. There’s truth in more than what you can see.”
I settle into my position leaning over Keel Haul. The sun is beginning to break through the thick layer of clouds. Hints of it warm my hands as I close them into fists.
After seeing part of his clean soul last night, my gut says Bastian’s telling the truth—at least, why would he lie about something so personal?—and if I’ve learned anything in my eighteen years, it’s to follow gut instinct. If Bastian is telling the truth, and if magic can really be stolen, then Kaven’s a bigger threat than I ever could have imagined.
Why didn’t I know about this? Why doesn’t anyone know?
“How did Kaven steal it?” I ask. “And if you’ve no magic, then how is this ship sailing?”
Bastian shakes his head. “Do remember that I just watched you kill a man.” His words are more matter-of-fact than they are cold. “And you threatened to stab me—multiple times, might I add—and steal my ship. So forgive me if I distrust you as much as you distrust me.”
“He’s truly that dangerous?” I ask quietly.
A shadow crosses Bastian’s face. “Do you know anyone else with the power to steal another person’s magic?”
I shake my head. I can’t even imagine what it might be like to have someone steal my magic—it’d be too invasive. Like they were stealing part of my very soul. But I relax in knowing that not only is my magic tied to my soul, but also my very bloodline. I doubt something like that could ever be stolen.
Bastian lifts his gaze to focus on Ferrick as he approaches, dressed the same as he was last night. His arm has regrown a little overnight, though he’s still missing everything from the forearm down.
“Good morning, fair fiancé,” Bastian bellows, swiftly changing the subject. “There’s bread and dried meat in storage if you’re hungry.”
At the mention of food, Ferrick presses a hand to his stomach and groans. He looks even worse than he did last night. His green skin rivals the color of his blazer. With one of Bastian’s handkerchiefs wadded tightly in his hand, he wipes sweat from his forehead.
“No, thank you.” Ferrick’s voice is pinched. “How anyone can live on a ship, I will never understand. I felt as if I was floating on the sea the entire night.”
“That’s because you were,” I say.
Bastian laughs and moves to pat Ferrick on the shoulder, all charm and smiles once more. “Not quite the sailor, are you, mate? No worries, it takes some people days at sea before they adapt. Stick around and you’ll have your sea legs in no time. But in the meantime, if you’re going to throw up, try to avoid doing it on my ship.”
Ferrick sways. Hurling on Keel Haul is precisely what he looks ready to do.
“How are you, Amora?” he asks, eyeing the bread in my hands. When I take the last bite, Ferrick looks even queasier.
“It doesn’t bother me,” is all I say, because how am I supposed to tell him the truth? How do I admit being on this ship feels as natural as breathing? That when I woke up this morning, it wasn’t the possibility of my execution I thought of first. It was the excitement of travel. Of sailing.
It’s not the way I imagined it, but I’m living a dream I’ve had since the first time I saw the ocean.
“You’re a natural,” Bastian says. “You even woke with the sun.”
I accept his compliment with a smile. Though there’s still the tension of curiosity between us, I let it go for the time being. Perhaps some memories are too painful to share. “Does this mean you’ll begin teaching me how to sail?”