is different; we have bonds, but not the kind of kinship you humans have. And I suppose … I like it. For some reason, I find myself annoyingly fond of you guppies. Besides, I always wanted to see this kingdom, and sometimes it’s preferable to do that upon a ship rather than with my own fins.”
Her words cleave through me, splitting me straight in two. I know at once I have to tell Vataea the truth. I have to tell her everything.
“V, there’s something—”
“No more of this conversation,” she says in a brisk voice I recognize as embarrassment. “Tell me what’s wrong with you. What are you sighing about?”
“I don’t—”
“Tell me, or I’m sleeping outside.”
Guilt crawls at my skin, but the moment to tell her has passed. Instead I do what she wants and ask, “Do you think Elias was right?”
Her response comes slowly, thoughtfully. “I think Elias wanted power.”
“But do you think he was right? That maybe Visidia’s problem is that we have one sole ruler?”
This time, she pauses for so long I fear she’s fallen asleep. “Where is this coming from?”
I tense and turn toward the shadows on the ceiling now, thoughts whirling. “I think his methods were misguided, but he made a good point. The Montaras have ruled for centuries, and yet I can count the good things they’ve done for this kingdom on one hand. My family has too much power, and Visidia’s grown stagnant under our rule. Look how much Kerost has flourished since they’ve been able to learn multiple magics, since they’ve been able to help themselves. Can you imagine a world where they were given that right all along? I can’t stop thinking about how different that world would be, if … if my family hadn’t been in charge of everything.”
Vataea considers this, then asks, “But would it truly be a better one?”
And that’s just it. That’s what I keep coming back to. No matter how much thought I give it, it’s impossible to know the answer.
“What would you do?” I try to catch her eyes in the darkness, faintly able to make out their dim glow. “If you were me, would you step up, or would you step back?”
“If I were you, I would stop blaming myself for the grievances of the dead, even if we did once share the same blood.” They’re callous words, but they’re why I can talk to Vataea so easily. There’s no pretending with her. “Sometimes stepping down means the same thing as stepping up. This is your situation to figure out and be at peace with, Amora. But you need to get out of the past if you’re ever going to see a better future. You love your kingdom more than you love anything—you’ll do what’s right for it.”
It’s as though all of Keel Haul stills with those words.
You love your kingdom more than you love anything.
It’s with a paralyzing sickness that I realize she’s right—I love Visidia more than I love anything else.
Should I use the magic of the godwoken, losing my kingdom is the price I’d have to pay.
But what would that mean? Would I be unable to rule Visidia? Would I be forced to live somewhere else, far away in an unknown kingdom? Or would I stay and simply lose my love for my kingdom? And if that’s the case, could I handle that?
“Amora?” Sleep honeys her words, and I know she’s drifting.
“Get some rest, V.” I tuck my arms behind my head, wishing I could do the same. “I’ll be fine.”
And one way or another, I will be.
* * *
Just as I do every time the siren’s call of sleep finally comes, I dream of Father.
I dream of the smoke that builds around him as he plunges a sword deep through his stomach. Of the way the fire chars his skin inch by inch.
He reaches out to me, his face shrouded by smoke and his body covered like a coat by the faces of Visidia’s fallen.
I run, desperate to save him. Desperate for the smoke to clear so that I may see his face once more. I pray to the gods for it—to give me one last moment with him.
But every step sends me farther away, until his body is nothing more than smoke, ash, and the memory of a hand that reached for me to save him.
Again, I watch Father burn, knowing I was too slow to save him.
And again, I wake up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Valuka’s bay is awash with turquoise flames when