All the Stars and Teeth(46)

I gasp, choking for the breath that tries to escape, and drop my hammer to the dirt as my hands slow. While working, I hadn’t noticed this tiredness; it catches up to me at once, nearly knocking me back. My hands are stiff and calloused, as though I’ve spent a full week working. I press my palms to the ground, trying to steady myself as time catches back up to me.

This magic is a strange, dangerous thing.

“You’ve the same hardness to your face as your father.” Her voice is cool as the breeze when she speaks.

I whip my head up to look as strands of her red hair pale into a stark white. Her voice is quiet enough that, at first, I believe I’m hearing things. She keeps her attention ahead and on her work.

“Except your eyes are different. His tell lies with their smile, bright enough to make you believe them. But you?” Those bitter green eyes flick to me for the briefest moment before her hands start up again, hammering away. “You glare. Like something’s wrong, and you’re the only one who can fix it.”

My tongue is dry and my mind numb. I’m not certain if her words are praise or further condemnation, but the woman doesn’t clarify. She simply finds another plank of wood and gets back to work while others set bricks around the structure. Shakily I pick my hammer back up and do the same, slower this time. The woman watches me from the corner of her eye.

“Kaven showed up after the storm,” she says after a moment, chilling my blood so fiercely my wrist seizes before its next strike. “After your father took away the Valukans who’d been helping us tame the tides. We needed the help; we wanted safety and comfort for our families. Kaven preyed on that. He offered us a chance to help him end the king, so that we could learn to protect ourselves and our home with Valukan magic. Many accepted his offer, for they had no better choice. But you won’t find those people here. Kaven’s set them up in Enuda, on the southern edge of the island, and no one who’s gone has made it back.” She turns her face away, voice dropping. She doesn’t need to say what she’s thinking aloud; we all know the danger of multiple magics. How they consume you slowly, and then all at once.

“Blarthe rolled in after Kaven to prey on the stragglers, bringing three ships stocked with food and supplies,” she continues after a moment. “He’s in charge, now.”

My hands shake so fiercely I have to squeeze them tight to grip the hammer and strike again. “Why didn’t you take his offer?” I ask, because it’s the last bit of hope I have. If all these people refused Kaven because they still believe in Visidia—and in the Montara monarchy—then there’s time to turn this around.

The woman grinds her teeth together as though I’ve slapped her. “No one’s going to take me from my home.” Each word is fierce as a cannon strike. “Blarthe is no saint. Some might say he’s even a worse option. But for those of us who want to remain living in the place we call home, he’s our only choice. So thank you for your assistance,” she whispers eventually, though the words are anything but soft praise. They bite. “But if you truly care to help, then the next time you come here, it better be with an entire fleet. And it better be soon.”

I dip my head and lift the hood of my cape back over it so that no one can see how deeply her words sting, or the shame on my face.

Behind me, Ferrick’s crowd has dispersed. His skin is ashen and sweat dampens his shirt. But still, he sets a hand on my shoulder, silently offering to heal my hands.

Like the woman, I push him away.

“Let me feel it,” I tell him. “I want to remember the reason for this pain, too.”

From then on, nothing but hammers sound until daybreak.



* * *



There are no long goodbyes when we continue our journey hours later. We leave only with leaden, guilty consciences, throbbing hands and shoulders, and instructions on where to find a man named Blarthe—as the one who runs this town, he has the best chance of knowing where we can find a mermaid.

We dodge bent and rotting oak trees as we travel through cracked cobblestone streets, footsteps painfully slow as our work takes its toll. Even the grass here is sad. It’s dying in most places, brown and ready to snap.

Here, the people we run into are few and far between. Those we do see pass us, lugging building supplies up the winding streets, to where others hammer away at rapid speed. From what I can see, much of Kerost’s landscape is flat. There aren’t mountains so much as there are hills with yellowing, overwatered grass. More Kers climb those mountains, building homes on the highest peaks—but they’re not high enough to hide from hungry tides.

This island is fragile, leeching onto life. Its pulses of willful survival strike my core like a heartbeat.

This isn’t the kingdom I imagined ruling, and I’m sharply, painfully aware that my father’s choice is the reason why. No birds roam the sky and the air is quiet even of insects. The land is gray and covered in upturned rocks and dark soot. My hands throb again, confirming Kerost needs more than a handful of people with time magic to help restore the island. They need the backing of our kingdom.

We take another series of turns before arriving at a small cluster of buildings, all of which are built from dull gray pebble stones. Some are chipped and punctured with empty holes.

Voices filter from behind one stone slab door, beneath a deceptively elegant sign that says VICE. I immediately adjust my cloak around me, skin crawling from nerves I can’t quite explain. There’s something off about this place.