then this constant bickering with Bastian needs to stop.
“Fine,” I relent, having to push the words out of me. “Whatever festivities are being planned for the suitors, you may join.”
“Wonderful.” Bastian masks the relief in his voice with a smile as he pushes away from me to pick up his discarded hammer. My lips grow cold and numb from his absence as he heads toward the door.
Over his shoulder, Bastian casts me a wink I have half a mind to burn him for. “I’m glad we can finally agree on something. Sleep well, Princess.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
With Keel Haul’s speed, the force of Casem’s wind bloating the sails, and Vataea’s magic willing the sea to push us onward, we make it to Kerost in just over two days.
The air’s sharp and cool when we arrive, and as it scrapes against my cheek I’m reminded of the last time I was here. Last summer there’d been signs something was amiss in the kingdom, but it wasn’t until I stepped upon Kerost’s pebble stone beach to a choir of hammering that I understood how bad the state of my kingdom had gotten.
Fortunately, things are better, now. No longer do the strikes of hammers permeate the air; instead I hear rueful voices and laughter.
No longer withered and forgotten, the docks are packed full of ships with emerald and ruby banners strung across them. Curmanans with the ability to levitate objects and the elementally gifted Valukans are ashore, using their magic to rebuild the island, as I commanded when I first took the throne. Pride heats my chest as we lower Keel Haul’s ramp, a strange feeling considering that out of our need to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice, we’d only used the ladder on our last adventure.
“Look how much it’s changed.” Relief grips me as we make our way down the shore. The pavement is solid and fresh beneath our feet, no longer the cracked and chipping stone I remember. When I last saw Kerost, it was devastatingly poor, and Blarthe had swooped in to prey upon its citizens. While he gave the Kers the supplies they needed to rebuild their island, he traded time off their lives in exchange. But the supplies he gave them were never going to be strong enough to withstand the extreme storms that plague their island every few years.
Now though, they’re learning the skills they need to survive.
There’s a small group of talented Valukan metalworkers who’ve made the trek to Kerost as well, using their affinity toward earth to enforce the structures so they’re sturdy enough to withstand the storms.
Near the water opposite the docks are several other Valukans who instruct a class of Kers on how to manipulate the water. Their motions are like the most elegant dance, and I find myself straying from the crew so that I might get close enough to hear them.
“People often mistake water as the gentlest of the elements,” says a small Valukan girl. Though she’s younger than the rest, her movements are by far the most graceful and precise. “But that’s not true. Water can be fierce. It can be unruly. If you go in thinking you’re going to master it, you’ll never learn. Instead, you must think of it as an extension of your body.” As she draws her hands above her head, seawater spirals above her in a clean arc. When she swings her hands down, it follows. She grinds a foot into the sand and turns slow circles, letting the water follow her graceful dance. It builds until it looks as though she’s standing in the middle of a raging whirlpool. I can barely see her raising her hand between the gaps of the water, but when she drops it, the whirlpool zips back into the sea with a sharp smack.
The Kers watching are enthusiastic with their applause, eyes bright with excitement for this new magic they’re eager to finally learn. “Now, everyone, come stand by me on the shore,” the young girl says. “We’re going to start with the basics…”
Watching them settle close fills me with a pleasure that’s bone deep. This is what Kerost has always needed. If only they’d been given the ability to learn multiple magics years ago, so much of their pain and suffering could have been prevented.
At least they’re finally learning, now.
Yet, for as much as there is in Kerost, it’s impossible not to recognize what there isn’t.
There was no ceremony upon Keel Haul’s arrival. There are no banners.