All the Stars and Teeth(44)
Only days ago, I was to claim my title as heir to the throne, and yet I knew none of this. There must be more to it that I’m not seeing. Father wouldn’t keep something this important hidden from me … would he?
I shut my eyes against the sea, letting the wind press me back against the rigging. It’s a long moment of silence before my skin itches, and I peek one eye open to see Bastian watching me. His eyes are narrowed, lips turned down in a frown that matches the lines of his forehead.
“Why not run away?” he asks, so quietly that I almost believe I’m hearing things. “One mistake, and your people turned on you. Your parents turned on you. So why protect any of them? You clearly love sailing, so why not find yourself a crew, and save yourself?”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.
“From the moment I was old enough to recognize what I was, I knew I was made to one day lead Visidia.” I look out at the waters of my kingdom, feeling the truth of those words in my bones. “I know I’ve still so much to learn, but I love my kingdom more than I will ever love anything else, myself included. I want to make Visidia as strong as possible, and ensure my people are safe and happy. My blood and my heart belong to Visidia, and they always will.”
It’s a long moment before Bastian twists himself in the ropes, flipping his body back around. His smile is nothing like the cocky one he usually sports. It’s soft. Gentle. A little sad.
“Let’s keep going, then,” he says. “I’ve a mast to teach you about.”
My stomach flutters as I grip the ropes with one hand and match his movements. It’s easier, this time. Keel Haul yields to me as I follow Bastian with an ease I never knew I could manage.
I’m no longer afraid.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The remains of tattered wood buildings shudder in the sharp wind, threatening to crumble should the wrong breeze strike.
The air is brisk and heavy from the rain that threatens Kerost’s gray skies. I pull a ruby cloak around me like armor, disguised beneath the full hood. It hides my curves while I tuck my hair away for good measure.
Bastian’s shoulders twitch as we claw our way up the bleak shore. Damp pebbles grip my boots, fighting to pull them down as I struggle with my steps. I have to be careful. Beneath my stockings, buried at the toe of my left boot, the enchanted necklace I stole from Mornute waits to be used, should I need it. I curl my toes around the chain, ensuring it’s there.
Unlike in Mornute, the streets of west Kerost don’t bustle. There are no merchants; no laughing in the desolate streets.
There’s only hammering.
A small group is dispersed across uneven gray and black cobblestone. They threaten us with dangerous glares, wiping sweat from their foreheads and chests before returning to their work.
Men, women, and children alike bend over uprooted buildings and structures, some of them hammering at planks of wood while others pass out the mass of supplies around them. Their faces are worn and their lips press into flat lines. They work in silence, and they work fast. Impossibly fast, a whirlwind of flying hands and hammers.
It’s time magic; I never imagined seeing it used by so many would look this strange. Though they don’t have the power to alter time itself, they can either speed or slow their movements down, influencing how bodies interact within it. Those before me warp time to hasten their movements, hands moving in a blur that’s nearly impossible to follow as they work quicker than any human can sustain.
I can only imagine how taxing it is on their bodies.
This is not the simple fix I’d hoped for. This island is on the verge of collapsing. All of Visidia should be here helping, not wasting their money on silly water sports or lavish birthday celebrations. Valukans with an affinity to earth should be here repaving and cleaning up the destroyed buildings. They should be erecting new buildings while Curmanans with levitation clear rubble. Stars, we could even get those from Mornute to help them design once the rebuilding was done. And yet there’s no one here but the Kers. The Valukan aides who can manipulate water never should have been taken from this place—it’s fallen to ruin.
Father could have given an order to clean this island up within days. So why didn’t he? The Kers seemed to have supplies for rebuilding, but is that truly all he offered?
“This is a full season after the storm.” Bastian weaves through the streets with feigned confidence. “It hit the island early spring.” He wears a cloak as well, as do the majority of the villagers. Ours are nothing glamorous, but with theirs torn and faded gray from soot and overuse, we look entirely out of place.
I keep my ruby cloak snug against me and close the space between myself and the Kers hard at work.
Bastian hisses a breath. “What are you doing? I doubt we’ll find a mermaid here, we need to keep moving.”
I ignore him and crouch between a child no older than eight and a woman too old to be his mother, and reach out my palm for his hammer. “You should take a break. Let me help.”
The child peers up with cheeks full of dirty smudges, scrutinizing first my face, then my new clothes. My gut sinks at the way he eyes them with desire.
The woman is the one who gestures for him to hand over a hammer, her hands twitching in and out of vision. Her face flickers too, moving so quickly it’s as if she’s snapping in and out of time.
“It’s not every day we see a new face around these parts.” Her voice is like sliding gravel, coarse and grating. “A couple of storms, and suddenly people no longer believe you’re worth their time.”