All the Stars and Teeth(79)
Even though I already knew this, hearing it again makes me shiver. Bastian’s head dips to the floor, while Ferrick chews anxiously at his bottom lip. Vataea’s forehead creases as she watches Zale, waiting for the woman to say more.
“Everyone should be able to practice whatever magic they wish,” Zale says fearlessly. “I don’t disagree with Kaven on that. But where the king keeps magic from us, Kaven forces it on us. He’s destroyed Zudoh, and now he’s set his sights on the other islands. Soon he’ll be knocking on the palace doors.” Her eyes narrow as she waits for my reaction, but I feel no anger toward her. Only confusion.
All my life, the ban on multiple magics has been Visidia’s most primary law. Father always said it was to protect us, and I believed him without question. It’s why I accepted my magic. Why I pressed my blade into the arm of that first prisoner, and why I’ve taken so many lives since.
I drop my head into my palms. Was everything a lie?
“If we promised to take care of Kaven and restore this island, would you consider rejoining Visidia?”
Her face tilts up, eyes brimming. She doesn’t hesitate when she nods and says, “Absolutely,” like that one word is the only truth she knows. Like it’s the prayer she whispers every night. “We care little about kings or politics; all we want is the chance to live comfortably again, whether it’s on this island or another. To exist without worrying whether someone will kidnap our children or force us to learn a magic we want nothing to do with.” Her lips curl, and heat burns fiercely within my chest, igniting my speeding heart.
“You’re not leaving anyone behind.” I’m quick to my feet and Bastian and Vataea follow suit without question. Ferrick, however, is slower to rise. His eyes squint ahead at Zale, expression tight. “Where do we find Kaven?”
Zale stiffens, shoulders pulling back as her spine straightens. She looks us over, lips pressed into a fine line. Her eyes linger on Bastian longer than any of us, and for a moment I worry she’ll refuse our help. That she’ll call the others to help eliminate us. But then she stands as well and says, “He’s through the woods. But Zudoh’s nights are cold and dangerous. You’ll freeze in those clothes. Our healing ward is empty; the four of you should stay there for the night. We may not have much to offer, but if you’re going to help us, then let us help you.”
Though Ferrick looks wary and Bastian can’t seem to look Zale in the eye, my clothes are still soaked and my hair slick with algae that won’t dry. Getting lost in the dark or freezing in the woods won’t get us anywhere.
And so I accept Zale’s offer, and she guides us toward the door as she stands.
Outside the hut, a few dozen Zudians wait for us, not bothering to hide their eavesdropping. Though their eyes never stray from us as we journey back to the small building where we watched the children being healed, they dip their heads ever so slightly as we pass, offering hesitant thanks.
It’s only a small amount of trust, but it’s trust from my people nevertheless. Pride heats my cheeks and hastens my footsteps. I bow my head back to them before Vataea and I are escorted into one building, and Ferrick and Bastian the other.
It might not seem like much to the others, but I’ll use their trust as my armor, and the fate of my kingdom as my strength.
Come tomorrow, Kaven will no longer be a threat, and I’ll restore this kingdom.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I’d hoped a bath would make me feel cleaner. But as my wet hair drips onto the hands I hold before me, all I can see is the blood that has forever stained them.
I’ve been practicing soul magic since I was a child; nights in the prison with Father form some of my earliest memories. Back then, I believed what he told me: we do what we do to protect the kingdom. The overall well-being of Visidia is more important than eliminating a single corrupted soul.
Once again, I think of the first time I helped with an execution. It’s been years since I’ve thought of it, yet it’s been heavy on my mind ever since my failed performance. When I close my eyes, I see my five-year-old self standing in the prison cell next to my father. I recall the woman’s blood pouring over my fingers as I pressed a blade into her arm, and the way magic latched onto me in that moment—a shadowy beast that clung immediately to my soul. I suffered for weeks after that as I fought the magic down, forcing it to bond to my soul without overtaking it.
I thought what I was doing was right. I gritted through the pain so that my kingdom wouldn’t have to.
But it was a lie. Everything Father ever told me about this magic and our duties was a lie. And I believed it because I trusted him more than anything. He wasn’t just my father; he was my inspiration. The type of ruler I aspired to be like, loved and respected by our people.
But my view on the world was skewed and limited, aiding the lies he fed me with a silver spoon.
My chest heaves with sharp breaths as tears roll freely down my cheeks. I don’t bother trying to hold them back.
Outside this wall are Zudians who practice more than their own magic. Their souls are whole. Their bodies aren’t exhausted. They’re perfectly fine.
I wipe a tear away and it rolls down my fingers, but I don’t see it for what it is. Instead I see the blood of the first woman I ever executed, trailing down my finger like a serpent.
If not to protect Visidia, then what was her death for?