All the Stars and Teeth(62)
Flashes of dark, blood-tainted water slosh behind my eyes as I recall the memory of drowning. Of gagging on the sea as I fought to resurface. My throat scorches as though I’ve swallowed gallons of straight rum. I take my time until I’m able to speak through the pain.
“How bad was it?” I rasp. “How long have I been out?”
Bastian smooths a loose curl from my neck and tucks it back into place. His touch is gentle, as if too much pressure might shatter me. “Two days.” He raises his hand when I begin to sit up in protest. “Relax. This far south, the waters start to get rocky from the cold. Even with Keel Haul’s speed, the trip to Zudoh will take three. You need to rest.” He says the last part with a long, drawn-out sigh. “You must have a death wish, you know that? Jumping into the water with a sea monster? You were nearly killed.”
“But I wasn’t.” I try to grin, but my lips are chapped from sea salt and I grimace as they split open. Even bone tired and barely able to move, the adrenaline surging through me is undeniable. It boils in my blood and speeds my heart in a way I’ve never known.
Is this how Father felt, after his adventures? After he tamed a kelpie and chased the leviathan?
Until now, no one has been able to document proof of the Lusca’s existence.
No more getting out of bed, Father once told me. The Lusca will snatch you, if you do! It’ll grab your ankles and gobble you whole! He makes his favorite meal from the bones of disobedient children, you know …
In some stories, the monster was rumored to have a shark’s head. In others, it had three heads and poisonous tentacles. In my nighttime paranoia, it was an oversize beast with long, slimy tentacles made for snatching ankles, and dagger-long teeth for chomping through the bones of children. But compared to the real thing, my imagined Lusca was a puppy.
I can’t wait to tell Father that I not only faced the beast, but that I bested it. I only wish he’d been there to see.
“How did I get back on the ship?” I try to wet my cracked lips, but my mouth is too dry.
“I jumped in after you.” Bastian says it so simply, like the answer is obvious. “It took me a while to figure out how you did it, but freezing the Lusca was genius, I admit. Though you shouldn’t have risked yourself like that.”
I tip my head back on the pillow, clamping my eyes shut in protest against the dizziness. “It’s what had to be done.”
For a moment there’s only silence. No words. No footsteps. Perhaps not even any breathing aside from my own. When Bastian does speak again, his words may be quiet, but they’re sharp as a blade.
“You really will do anything for your people, won’t you?”
I want to open my eyes and remind him I’ve already given my answer, but when I do, Bastian doesn’t look smug or angry. His face is shadowed by the oil lamp, jaw strong in his profile. He shakes his head just barely, as if to himself. “You’re a Montara; your father banished my island from the kingdom. He destroyed my home. I tried not to be a hypocrite, because who am I to judge someone by the family they come from? But still, I wanted to hate you.” His fists clench and unclench at his sides, eyes pinched at the ground like he’s struggling with some sort of internal war.
“And do you?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, Amora. I haven’t been able to hate you since the moment we first spoke.”
I can hardly tell if the wooziness I feel is from my injuries, or because of Bastian’s words. My skin is hot, but I can’t get myself to look at him. Slowly, carefully, I reach up to take his hand. He tenses at first, but his shoulders slowly relax as I motion for him to sit at the edge of the bed.
Warmth spreads through my chest as I let a small portion of my magic work its way through me, using it to search his soul and confirm the suspicion that knots in my stomach.
On the first night I met Bastian, I thought my magic was too tired to see the entirety of his soul. But as I look at it now, it’s still the misty light gray it was before, with the edges fading into wispy smoke that refuses to show me the rest. I see only half of him.
“I saw you during the fight, Bastian,” I say. “I heard you scream.”
He stills, but doesn’t pull away.
“The first time the Lusca struck, I never saw you get hit,” I press. “It struck Keel Haul, and yet you reacted. As if you were the one in pain.”
His eyes catch the moonlight, and for a moment they’re silver and doused with stars. He leans his weight onto one arm. “What are you getting at?”
The words are a challenge I can’t back away from. Though he’s tense, it almost feels as though Bastian wants me to know. I can feel it in the way his hand closes halfway around mine, his thumb brushing my wrist, practically begging me to say the answer out loud and free him from his secret. I wonder how long he’s been holding on to it.
“You said before that Keel Haul was a magical ship.” I lift my chin, holding his attention. “And Vataea said she sensed curse magic the moment she stepped aboard Keel Haul. Now that I’ve seen that magic in action, I think I might understand what one of those curses is. Every time you were hit by the Lusca, the ship reacted. Every time the ship was hit, you felt the pain. You and Keel Haul are connected by this magic, aren’t you?”
His hand forms a fist in the sheets. He flexes his jaw and looks out the window, at the dark sea. “What if we are? Would it change the way you think of me?”