your help sailing.”
She tosses her legs over the chaise and stretches her arms wide. Some time on land has done her well—her skin is warm with the sun and her belly’s full and healthy.
“Who am I to deny an adventure?” Though she speaks wistfully, there’s mirth in her eyes as they meet mine. “Where to first?”
Guilt is a piranha, devouring me whole as I force out the truth. “Kerost.”
I don’t want to ask her to return to the place we rescued her from—one of the several places she was held captive by Blarthe and shown off like a trophy. I understand fully the vengeance Vataea seeks on him, and once he’s served his purpose, Vataea can have her turn with him. But for now I’m to follow his lead in Kerost and find Ornell Rosenblathe. “You can stay on the ship, if you’d like. You don’t have to come ashore.”
She flashes her teeth, sharp and dangerous. “I refuse to let that man keep me from enjoying my life. I will go. I take it the boys are coming with us?”
“Of course they are,” I nearly growl, reminded sharply of Bastian and his outburst in the throne room.
The more I think about Bastian, the more I think about my curse. And the more I think about my curse, the more my resentment grows and my mind crawls into itself. The edges of my vision darken, tunneling. Tunneling. Tunneling. Until I see smoke. Fire. Blood. Bastian writhing on the floor. Father dead, a sword between his ribs. I search for his face in the smoke that shrouds it, but all I find are the faces of a thousand dead spirits circling behind him. Watching me.
“Amora?”
I inhale a breath at Vataea’s songlike voice. I focus on it, using it as an anchor to drag my focus back. There’s a tightness in my chest and a hollowness in my stomach, but I do everything I can to ignore it and focus instead on pushing my shoulders back and standing tall.
“Have your things packed before nightfall.” I make my voice firm, silently begging her to leave it at that. Because if she presses, I’ll surely waver. “We leave at dawn.”
CHAPTER NINE
The fur along Mother’s cloak billows behind her as we stand at the edge of the docks. She looks like a spirit, her expression no less haunted than the mist surrounding us or the wood that groans beneath our boots.
Her gaunt face is turned toward the roiling tides, creased with a concern so deep that it settles its way into her hands, which clench and unclench against her cloak in an anxious rhythm.
“We can postpone the tour until summer.” The squawking seagulls nearly drown out her voice. “It’ll be safer to travel, then.”
I follow her gaze, watching as thick sea foam thrashes against the shore, trying to claim scuttling crabs that seek refuge in the rocks. I understand Mother’s hesitation, but unlike that crab, I don’t fear the sea. The ocean holds my soul firm. Salt and mist settle against my skin like a coat, luring me into its comfort. I lean into the feeling, welcoming it.
“The sooner we get this kingdom under control, the better.” I keep my words devoid of the eagerness that stirs within me.
Freedom for Visidia is only an ocean away.
Freedom from my curses is only an ocean away.
I won’t be waiting until summer to set sail.
Our departure is quieter than I expected. Since everyone who lives on Arida works for the royal family, there are no cheering crowds to send us off. The few who stop by come quietly and don’t linger, mostly palace chefs who bring gifts of meats and pastries, while maids stock the ship with gowns and soaps.
“The islands have themselves in a tizzy trying to get everything prepared in time.” Mother clasps her hands together in an effort to stop fidgeting with her cloak. “But everything’s been arranged, and should you need something—or if anything happens, Amora—have Casem contact me.”
I wish I didn’t have to see the pain in her eyes, or the fear of losing someone else in her life. I wish there was somewhere for me to look without seeing Father. “I’m going to fix everything, I promise.”
I hug my own cloak tight as soldiers weave around us, loading our supplies onto The Duchess. Though the island will warm throughout the day, here in the early morning fog my breath plumes in thick gray clouds. I breathe in the brine so deeply it stings