bite my tongue and twist my lips into the iciest smile. “Would you please tell me why you can’t use soul magic? You arrogant, oafish, bast—”
“You really ought to learn how to stop when you’re ahead.” He sighs but scoots closer. “Don’t worry, we’ll work on that. Now, for your question, it’s simple. I just don’t know what to do with this thing.”
He holds up a bone, squinting to peer at it in the sunlight. I lean in, trying to see if he’s looking at something different than I am. But all I see is a normal finger bone.
“What do you mean you don’t know what to do with it?”
“I mean I know how to summon the magic. I can feel it. But whenever I’ve tried to practice with it—whenever I’ve tried to see what it feels like—I don’t know what to do. You have your fire, your aunt has that whole stomach acid thing when she swallows a bone, your father used water … But I don’t know what to do. How did you know you were supposed to use fire?”
I lean back on my hands, trying to remember if there was ever any sign. “It was something I just knew,” I eventually admit. “It was instinctual.”
His sigh is far more dramatic than necessary as he waves the bone at me. “All I want to do is break this awful thing.” Plucking up the bones and teeth, he stuffs them back into the satchel. “Curse magic is so much easier.”
“That’s because you grew up learning it.” My skin chills without the touch of the bones, and I smother the feeling. “All new magics are hard to learn at first. Look at Ferrick.”
I nod toward the bow, where Casem tries to teach Ferrick mind speak. All Ferrick’s done since he’s been home is dive back into his training, and my heart tugs at the sight of him. I should have known that if I gave him the role as my adviser—as my most trusted partner—that he’d take it more seriously than anyone else. Watching him, I know I’ve made the right call. I’ve no idea how long they’ve been at it, but the skin around Ferrick’s mouth is tinted red, and within seconds of watching him he’s already nursing a fresh nosebleed.
Across from me, Bastian winces. “Fair point. Still though, it doesn’t feel great knowing I’ve got the strongest magic in the kingdom and no idea how to use it.”
“You shouldn’t use it anyway,” I say. “That magic was never meant to be practiced by anyone other than a Montara. When Kaven tried to have others learn it, the majority of them died.”
“They did,” he agrees with a small nod. “But it wasn’t the same. They didn’t have the real thing.”
“It’s not worth the risk.” The anger within me flares. “We don’t know what will happen if you use it, and I want you alive. We’ve got a curse to break, so leave it alone. If you ever have to use it, gods forbid, you’ll know how.”
“You say that, but how—”
“You just will, all right? I promise.”
To my surprise, the rest of his argument dies on his tongue, and the tension in his body eases.
“Are you two going to work all morning, or are you going to join us for breakfast?” Shanty calls, hands cupped around her mouth for effect. Today her hair’s a fresh mint green that matches her eyes, which are winged out with beautiful fluorescent-pink liner. Though I know it’s nothing more than a glamour, she’s dressed sharper than anyone traveling on a ship has a right to be, donning a shimmering pink cape that puffs lightly around her like a beautiful cloud. Her loose collared shirt hangs with two of the top buttons undone, so faint a pink it almost looks white, and is tucked into beautiful lavender pants that billow out at the hems. Today, she’s distinctly Ikaean, with taste as expensive as mine and Bastian’s.
“What happens when you Ikaeans run out of unique themes for your outfits?” I nod teasingly at her clothes as Bastian and I move to join them, followed closely by Ferrick and Casem.
Shanty flicks a grape into her mouth. “Impossible; the world’s too interesting. There will always be too many ideas, and not enough time for them all. Now, breakfast?”
Only when I pop a cube of cheese into my own mouth does she resume shuffling her cards, pleased. As she shuffles, her nails turn from a pretty plum color to