up, that’s not my problem.
“I appreciate you looking out for me.” There’s a sharpness in my tone I don’t bother masking. A warning that it’s time for this conversation to end. “But I’m doing what I believe is best for my kingdom.”
“Well, tell me how I can help you, then,” he argues. “I’m trying to do everything I can to be there for you. To be a good friend, a better adviser, a stronger fighter with more magic. What can I do better?”
As my heart drops to my stomach, I clench my fists around the rope. “You’re perfect, Ferrick. I promise, this isn’t about you.”
His chest falls as he sinks deeper into the rigging, and for a long moment he lets the silence expand, the only sound between us that of thrashing waves and sharp winds. When he eventually turns back to me, his eyes are as sharp and as clever as a fox’s. So quietly that I’m uncertain whether I’ve made the words up in my own head, he says, “If that’s how you want it to be, fine. But your stubbornness will be the knife in all of our chests one day, Amora. Gods help us.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Even my bones are tired as I claw my way up to the deck the next morning.
I spent hours on the rigging well after Ferrick left, until my fingers had numbed from the cold, my grip had grown slack, and I could no longer keep my eyes open. Only then did I sneak back into my hammock, stealing a few hours before thoughts of Father and visions of the dead woke me again.
Bastian’s the first one I see when I step onto the deck. He’s seated alone on the starboard side, while Vataea and Shanty sit portside. They have an unrolled burlap sack filled with dehydrated fruits, hard cheeses, and dried meats spread out between them. While they play a strange card game that requires flipping cards and being the first to slap their hands on the deck upon seeing certain ones, Bastian busies himself with a familiar item. I’m breathless the moment I see it—my satchel.
He’s emptied it of its contents, scattering bones and teeth over the canvas. Though he doesn’t yet use the magic—I’d feel it if he did—I can sense him considering it as he holds a bone between two long fingers, using his other hand to gently scratch the bone with the edge of a small push blade. His will pulses within me, and I know at once that he’s trying to call soul magic to him.
It doesn’t come.
“You never told me you were having trouble with it.” I take a hesitant seat in front of him, running my fingers along the familiar ridges of the bones. While part of me hates the longing that springs to life within me, there’s no denying its existence.
I hate what I was forced to do with my magic. I hate that I spent eighteen years learning to kill for the sake of a beast within me that never even existed. I hate that my magic was nothing more than a lie.
But I don’t hate my magic; I could never hate the most intimate part of me. And one day, I’ll get it back in its true form. Gentle. Peaceful. Protective. The way soul magic was created to be.
Bastian squeezes the bone between his fingers, tighter this time. He scrutinizes it as though it’s some kind of puzzle, and my heart practically trembles as I remember the last time I saw that expression on his face, back when I’d been creating Rukan. It was the first night we truly kissed.
My skin itches with the discomfort that urges me to get out of here and distance myself from Bastian, but the pulse of my magic within him keeps me seated.
“That’s because only now, when you’re stranded on a ship in the middle of the sea and have limited places to hide from me, do I get to talk to you.” His voice is cheery enough that I roll my eyes.
“Well, I’m here now. Tell me what’s going on.”
He makes a faint tsking sound under his breath. “You seem far more fascinated in what I have to say, than I care for the answers you might have. But I do have an idea—something to satisfy both of our needs.” He looks up, stars dancing in those dazzling hazel eyes. “Have you ever considered asking nicely?”
What I wouldn’t give to throw this blasted pirate overboard.
I