All the Stars and Teeth(96)

I try to catch Casem’s stare, remembering the last night we were together on Arida, and how passive the palace guards were during the puppet show. How they let people openly disrespect their king. I’d sensed something was wrong, but Casem waved my concern away. He’s been part of this all along.

Why then, in Ikae, had he protected me?

Sweat beads at my temple as I step back, the bramble of dead roots and leaves crunching beneath my feet. It’s certainly not all Aridian soldiers who have turned on us—only about fifteen or so—but I’ve no doubt that if they’re here, others who feel the same way are waiting back home.

Kaven steps forward. “The Montaras restrict us. Your little runaway was the perfect excuse we needed to get everyone away and consolidate our army. For that, I must thank you. Your High Animancer will never see this coming.” Someone presses a dagger into his palm, and he curls his long fingers around the hilt.

My own daggers feel heavier than normal as I lift them. They weigh my trembling hands.

As Kaven approaches, I do my best to tighten my grip on them and keep them ready. My palms won’t stop sweating.

Visidia deserves better than what they’ve gotten, and it definitely deserves more than this man. He’s nearly as far gone as Cato, but I won’t make the same mistake Sira did by waiting. I still my shaking wrists, and lunge.

The woods erupt into chaos.

Bastian weaves swiftly around the birch trees, using them as shields to dodge his opponents, and as tools to outmaneuver them. He feints a left around one before banking right, ducking the blow of an opponent. His counterattack sends them face-first into the bramble, bleeding.

I force myself not to look at the face. Not to see if it’s anyone I recognize.

“Don’t let them get your blood!” I yell, wrapping the full force of my magic around me, letting myself sink into its darkness. Its ferocity. “We don’t know which of them might practice Kaven’s magic.”

Ferrick remains close behind me, using his speed to best his attackers and ensure that I only have to deal with Kaven. Vataea’s nowhere in sight; I’ve no idea when she snuck away, but I hope she’s somewhere safe in these woods.

Kaven fights with only one dagger, but he’s skilled and quick as he rushes me. He weaves around my movements and strikes at my waist. I barely dodge in time.

Kaven uses the same technique as Sira used to curse all of Arida; I can’t let him steal even a drop of my blood.

I slice my bone dagger through the air. Kaven ducks to avoid it, countering with a swift kick to my stomach that sends me flying into Ferrick’s back. He tumbles, but is the first to right himself and pull me up by my arms.

“Let me help,” he says urgently. But without fire, there’s nothing I can do with his offered limbs.

I push off Ferrick and swing at Kaven again, just as he’s about to bring his dagger down. He moves like a soldier, every motion precise and calculated. He dodges my blow, ducks around me, and grabs hold of my hair as Ferrick lunges at him. I try to yank myself free, hardly noticing the yells and the stench of smoke and fire plaguing the air.

Kaven curses and tosses me to the ground. He swats at his tunic; the fabric has caught fire.

Vataea stands behind him, holding several blazing branches like torches. She feeds the flames into the dehydrated bramble beneath us, which hungrily sponges them in and ignites the woods.

I look at her through the veil of smoke beginning to form, and she smiles.

I force myself from the ground and Ferrick is ready. He barely flinches as I toss the bone dagger and scramble to grab a fallen sword from the ground, using it to make a clean cut through his left arm, at his elbow.

Kaven’s struck by surprise and shifts his focus onto Ferrick. Wrong move. I take hold of the severed arm in one hand and thrust my blade deep into Kaven’s stomach with the other.

My world grows cold the instant blood soaks his shirt and stains my hands. The farther his blood trails down my skin, the further the cool burn spreads, like a monster devouring my flesh.

“Aridian magic isn’t the strongest, little princess,” Kaven seethes through his teeth. “Mine is. Let me show you.”

Pain freezes me. Kaven’s cursed his own blood as a means of protection, and I’m lost to the magic he’s formed around me. It’s one full of vicious shadows that plague the corners of my vision and snarl at me, snapping dagger-like teeth. I can’t do anything but scream as the cool steel of his blade slips beneath my skin. It’s like a thousand stingrays stab their barbs through me one by one as Kaven tears through my arm. I scream, my grip on the dagger slackening.

It’s just a curse, I remind myself as the shadows tangle around my ankles, dragging me into the earth.

I make my mind blank, letting the shadows do whatever they’d like. Because no matter how much they snarl or constrict around me, they’re not real—Kaven is.

I will my body to focus on what it’s doing outside this curse. To wrap my fingers around the dagger, and push.

Though I don’t see my weapon, I feel the invisible weight of it in my palms. The shadows rise, stretching as if forming a gaping mouth, preparing to devour me. But I look through them.

Bastian said it surprised him how quickly I could escape a curse, and now I know why—I’ve spent my entire life fighting Sira’s curse on the Montara bloodline. Compared to her magic, this is nothing.