the gods.”
“No person is meant to have that kind of power.” Gods, I can’t believe I’m even entertaining him. I lean back, ready to fetch Vataea and end this, but his next words freeze me in place.
“But imagine what you could do with it.” He tips his head back against the post. “You want your magic back, don’t you? There’s no use hiding it; Kaven cursed you. You’d be threatening me with more than a blade, if you still had it.”
Blarthe’s words cause the memories to leech in, obscuring his face and making it Father’s. There’s smoke around his body. Though I know it’s not real, fire devours his pants, and blood trails from the sword now protruding from his stomach and onto the ground below. Reminding me that I couldn’t save him. That he’s dead because of me.
If I wasn’t cursed—if I’d had my magic—I could have saved Father that night. I could have saved so many lives.
“You’re lying.” It takes effort to find my words, and to keep my hands wound tight around me so he can’t see how much they shake. “The list of your crimes could stretch from here to Ikae. What makes you think I’d ever trust a word you say?”
Though sweat beads his forehead, he shrugs as though this is a situation he’s in every day. “Because there’s more in it for you than for me if we were to strike a deal. Leave me here while you search for it, if that’s what it takes. Why would I lie when I’m the only one risking anything?”
I peer back at the door, looking beneath the cracks to ensure Ferrick’s shadow isn’t waiting outside. Though I see nothing, I crouch once more and drop my voice. “What you’re offering sounds like something of a legend.” But even saying it, I know from experience that every legend is rooted in the truth. The very dagger I carry with me now is from a beast that I once believed was little more than a story.
A cruel laugh rattles his chest, splitting his dry lips. “If you believed that, you wouldn’t still be listening.”
I don’t want to hope. But every time I shut my eyes, Father’s there waiting for me, his face shrouded in smoke and his hand stretched out, begging me to help him. Night after night I’m reminded of the void within me where my magic used to sit. I’m reminded that Visidia isn’t whole, and neither am I.
I need to break the curses that’ve been put on me—both the one on the Montara bloodline that keeps soul magic from my people, and the one that connects me to Bastian in the same way he was once connected to his ship.
Even if it’s too good to be true, can I turn away from this opportunity without trying?
“This object is the closest you’ll ever get to being a god yourself,” Blarthe presses, as though he can sense my hesitation. “With it, you’d have the power to amplify magic to impossible extents. If I use it to amplify time magic, I could reverse what’s happened to your body. I could restore your magic.”
I let myself drop to the floor, leaning back against the wall because I no longer trust my legs to keep me steady. “Why tell me this? What’s in it for you?” I’m as foolish as a fish, taking the bait he’s lured me with. And yet I can’t turn away.
Though we’re beneath the deck, it’s as though the storm itself fills his eyes. “I am a man who values his life. Isn’t that enough? Promise me my freedom, and I’ll lend you my magic.”
“I’ll find someone else—”
“Another time trader?” he snorts. “Best of luck. We’re as rare as they come.”
My hands tense with irritation, but he continues as though I’ve already agreed. “During my travels I met a young adventurer who claimed to be the child of a man who’d used the power of the gods in the past. I don’t remember much of their story; we’d probably had a barrel of wine between the two of us. But if you want to find the location of the artifact, finding them is your best bet.”
“And where can I find this adventurer?” When he doesn’t respond, I drag my hands down my face, groaning into my palms. “Do you at least know their name?” Without it, trying to find this amplifier will be no better than continuing to search for whatever charm Kaven had used when