All the Stars and Teeth(8)
“When King Cato locked it within the Montara bloodline,” the narrator continues, “he made it his family’s mission to master and contain the beast. Those who do are given the title of Animancer—a master of souls. That’s the reason we’ve gathered here tonight, to watch Princess Amora solidify her position as heir to Visidia by proving herself capable of becoming Animancer. May she one day rule as well as her father, King Audric.”
Nerves seize my chest. I take Casem’s arm to pull him away before anyone notices us, but a snort from the crowd halts me.
“Right, because another lazy ruler is really what we need.”
My hold on Casem’s arm slips.
A frivolous soprano responds with a laugh. “Lazy? Please, you’re babbling like a clueless Kaven supporter. The islands are thriving.”
“Perhaps your island is thriving. But hardly anyone’s been visiting Valuka since the hot springs ran dry. Not to mention Kerost, which is barely keeping afloat.”
Several palace guards stand nearby, their eyes sparking with curiosity. They make no move to stop the slander.
From my position behind them, those watching the performance don’t notice me until I step forward to make myself known. “Excuse me?” Silence ensnares the conversations as one by one, faces turn to me in horror. The guards straighten at once. “Just what lazy ruler are you referring to?”
They stare at my crown. At the epaulettes. But their eyes are missing the same awe I noticed earlier. Fear sits in its place.
“We should get moving.” Casem takes hold of my arm and tugs me away from the audience. I let him.
“What was that woman talking about?” My blood burns, heating my ears and neck with annoyance. “Who’s Kaven? What did they mean about Kerost barely staying afloat?”
Casem waves me off with a flourish of his hand. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Clearly she has no idea what she’s talking about.”
“But it’s like they were afraid of me. And the palace guards just stood there!”
His forehead wrinkles. “Amora, you’re wearing a crown of bones, and knives for shoulder pads. Don’t misinterpret their respect as fear. And what would you expect the guards to do? Even fools may speak freely.”
But the words don’t settle me; there’s something more. “I should speak with my father.”
Casem’s lips press into a thin line. “You should be relaxing. If you get too worked up before the ceremony, you’re going to get your magic all riled—”
“This isn’t a debate,” I snap. “I need to speak with him. Don’t make me fight you, Casem.”
Casem’s eyes drop to my satchel, then to the dagger at my side. I’ve trained with Casem and his father, the weapons master for our soldiers, since I was a child. Mother and Father insisted I learn to protect myself, so Casem’s been my sparring partner for years. But he favors the bow, and I can count on one hand the times he’s bested me with a sword.
“Fine,” he huffs, tempering himself with a long breath. “But the king isn’t going to be happy.”
* * *
We find Father near the top of the mountain, lingering in a secluded area near the garden’s edge with advisers from all over Visidia flocked around him. Despite the drinks that several of the advisers hold, they’re anything but jovial. When I push past the guards, I see their bodies are taut and expressions serious.
Casem’s father, Olin Liley, is among them in a pristine sapphire blazer with golden trim. The royal Aridian adviser straightens as his son approaches, eyes narrowing in what I can only guess is a warning.
Casem was right—Father doesn’t look happy. But there’s a young man across from him who looks even angrier.
The adviser is younger than the others, in his early twenties at most. His garb is expensive—finely tailored breeches of a soft khaki, an unwrinkled linen shirt, and leather boots that nearly reach his knee. His frock coat is the bright shade of a ruby, and as his cuff links catch the light, I see that they’re embossed with the royal emblem. The trim that thinly lines the coat is a bright gold—he’s a royal representative from Valuka, then.
“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” he argues, face pinched as if thoroughly exasperated. “Please, just listen to me, would you? Everyone can believe what they want about Kerost, but Kaven won’t stop until he’s—”
“Kaven’s nothing more than talk.” Father’s harsh dismissal causes the Valukan to bristle. But before he can say anything more, Olin sets a hand on Father’s shoulder.
“We have company, Your Majesty.” He nods to me, and Father’s brows lift in surprise as he turns.
“Who is Kaven?” I demand. The advisers snap to attention as I step forward. Their focus shifts to Father, whose fierce expression is amplified tenfold beneath his crown. It’s not quite as tall as mine, but it’s incredible—an ivory-plated skeleton of a Valuna eel. It’s a deep-sea creature of legends; a ten-foot-long beast with rows of dagger-sharp teeth—each the size of my index finger—that our ancestors were rumored to have fought nearly a century ago. Its mouth is so large that Father’s face sits within it. The upper jaw curves around his head, and the bottom half sits beneath Father’s chin, as if eating him. The eel’s jewel-encrusted spine stretches down his back and curves upward at Father’s tailbone.