All the Stars and Teeth(90)

Cato’s lips twist into a sneer, but he doesn’t look away from his fish. I gather up my things with a swift nod. “I doubt I’ll be any good, but I suppose it’s worth the try.”

Those words are only for Cato’s benefit, so he doesn’t feel worse about his inability to learn other magics. But the truth is that Basil’s words ignite a sharp desire within me.

All my life, magic of all varieties has called to me, opening up for my exploration. Though I was able to teach Cato soul magic, he’s no idea the extent of the magic I know, or the others I intend to learn.

And because I love him, I’ll never tell him.

Basil smiles and guides me forward, down the path leading up to Arida’s main town.

“You know you don’t have to put up with that man,” he whispers after a long while of silence, keeping his voice low. “You deserve better.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, as if saying it over and over will somehow make it come true. “Really. Cato’s just going through a tough time. Ever since we began talking about marriage, all he seems to think about is how to pave a better future for us. He feels people will respect him if he has more magic. He still thinks his soul magic is too weak. I’m worried that perhaps I’ve put too much pressure on him.”

Basil purses his bottom lip in surprise. “There’s no shame in being able to soul-read. You were the first to discover this magic, Sira. You should be proud of it.”

I bow my head with a small nod. “I am, I promise. Cato’s just been obsessed with learning something new, but nothing’s working. It’s been ruining him, making him draw away from me. I’ve been worried about him for weeks now, so the other night I took a look at his soul…”

Basil stills. “Did you see something?”

I wind my arms tightly around myself, wishing I didn’t have to recall the images. A thin veil of sweat coats my skin as chills rush up my spine.

“It’s rotting,” I say, barely managing even a whisper. The words sink my stomach, making it burn. “And it’s getting worse every day. Pieces of it are falling away, as if it’s disappearing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Basil stretches a soft, wrinkled hand forward to take hold of mine.

“You be careful with that one,” he warns. “I fear no good will come from him.”



* * *



Late one evening, I wake to find that Cato is not asleep next to me, and the door to our spare room has been left ajar. I toe at it, trying to silently widen the gap before crouching to peek inside.

The space before me is dark, free from even the smallest oil lamp or an open window to allow in the glow of the moon.

As my eyes adjust, I make out Cato’s wide-shouldered figure seated on the floor. His back is turned to me, and as I silently ease the door open a fraction more, the small creature in front of him becomes clear—a rabbit.

It shakes fiercely within its cage, cowering in the corner as Cato reaches inside. In his hand is the same small blade he was using before to skin fish, and the rabbit’s squeals are deafening as Cato flicks it across the creature’s leg, drawing blood. He plucks a strand of fur from the creature.

I cover my mouth, whether to prevent myself from screaming or throwing up, I can’t be certain.

Cato coats the plucked rabbit fur with the blood on his knife, holds it between his fingers, and then dunks it into a small water bowl beside him.

I’ve never before heard a sound like the rabbit makes. The gurgled choking of a creature struggling to breathe, trying to figure out why it’s drowning when nothing but air surrounds it. It makes a desperate, almost childlike scream that sets my hands shaking.

I toss the door open and kick the water bowl across the room, and Cato jumps to his feet in surprise. The rabbit takes a desperate breath, coughing and trembling as I run for the cage and scoop it into my arms.

“The gods don’t give us these creatures so we can torture them!” My breaths are sharp and quick, and I’m unable to stop my trembling. “What were you thinking?” I draw a step back toward the door, fear and rage warring in my chest.

Cato grins. It’s one of the most gleeful expressions I’ve ever seen, and it looks wrong on his face. Until now, I hadn’t noticed how much life has been drained from him; his skin is pale and dull, and his body has withered, making his face gaunt and sharp. Just how many nights has he been sneaking off to this room, locking himself away in the dark?

“It’s magic,” Cato says, almost giddy. I draw a few more steps toward the door. The poor rabbit is still shaking within its cage.

“What magic?” Though every instinct wills me to run, the love for this man I’ve known since I was a child locks me in place.

I have to at least hear his explanation.

“Soul magic,” Cato whispers. “My magic. I decided if I couldn’t learn more magic, then I’d just have to change what I already had.”

I draw my own soul magic around me, comforted by its warmth. Its lightness. It welcomes me into it, flooding me with heat as Cato’s soul opens up to me, revealing stark whiteness. The sight of it steals my breath, as there’s hardly any color left; hardly a single trace that a soul was ever even there.

“What happened to you?” My voice cracks. I clench the cage closer to my chest, as though it will somehow keep me standing.