The manticore came to see me before we set sail the next day. I was up on the boat, screwing around with the rigging ’cause half the crew was too hungover to be of much use. One of the manticore’s servants crept across the deck, and I damn near tossed a pile of ropes on her.
“Mistress,” she whispered, keeping her eyes downcast. “Ongraygeeomryn would like to speak with you.”
I’d kinda been hoping I wouldn’t have to see the manticore before we left, ’cause I was still sore on account of what happened with Naji, even though I was trying real hard not to moon over him.
But I figured this was my chance to prove that I was strong and that I didn’t need him, the way I’d proved it last night, underneath the thin rough blankets of my bed.
“Tell her she can come talk to me when she’s ready,” I said.
The servant trembled. “Mistress,” she said. “The manticore doesn’t wish to come aboard . . .”
“Oh hell.” Figures. “She on the beach, at least?”
“Yes, mistress.” The servant pointed a trembling finger off to the side. “My rowboat is in the water. She doesn’t wish to be kept waiting—”
“Of course she doesn’t.”
I rowed me and the servant back in to the beach, and sure enough, the manticore was stretched out on a quilted silk blanket on the sand, another servant standing beside her with a palm leaf.
“Girl-human!” she cried. “Did you enjoy your boon last night?”
“You mean Naji?”
“Of course! Such an easy one to enchant. Almost no convincing necessary at all.” She looked closer at me. “You did want him still, yes? He is your true love.”
Never mind the curse, I thought. But I didn’t say nothing. The manticore looked so damned pleased with herself.
“He was very . . .” I glanced off in the direction of the palace, hoping he wouldn’t show up while I was talking. “Skillful.”
The manticore looked puzzled for a moment. “Is that a good thing?”
“Uh, yeah.”
She beamed at me. “That is excellent news! We do not describe our matings as skillful; I shall remember that.”
Part of me wanted to ask her how she did it, if it really had been the ahiial, or some other manticore spell, maybe drawn out of the red desert sand. The sand-charmers in Lisirra could do that; I remembered from my trips to the night market. But what would be the point? It had happened, and not ’cause he wanted it.
Something else was bothering me, though.
“So he isn’t . . . he isn’t gonna keep bugging me after this?” I asked. “I’ve heard about love spells, and they always . . . persist, if you know what I mean.”
“Persist?” The manticore frowned. “No, girl-human. Love does not persist! It is allotted to us once a life cycle.”
Oh. Like cats.
“The boon was only for one love-period,” the manticore said. Her eyes dimmed. “I could ask my father to recast it in perpetuity—”
“No!” I held out my hands. “No, it’s fine. Once was . . . once was enough.”
“Spoken like a manticore!” She smiled big and bright at me. “I knew you were of a superior mind to the servants.”
“I’m gonna miss you, Ongraygeeomryn,” I said, stumbling over the last syllable.
And even with the boon, I still meant it.
“When the Jadorr’a is free of his curse, you are always welcome to return him to us. Remember, it would do him a great honor.”
I just looked at her, although I thought about how easy it would be to cart him back here.
Easy, but not fair and wrong to boot. Dishonorable. Even if he had soul-hurt me a million and one ways.
No. I promised Marjani I wasn’t gonna moon over him.
So I threw my arms around the manticore’s neck and gave her a big hug. She nuzzled me back, her mane tickling my nose.
“You are always welcome on the Island of the Sun as a guest,” she said. Her tongue swiped across my cheek and left my skin stinging. “With or without the Jadorr’a. You are always a friend.”
• • •
Jokja was two weeks’ sail from the Island of the Sun, through water bright and green as glass. It was an easy voyage. Once Naji found out where we were headed and why, he called down favorable winds every morning, and we had plenty of food. The best bit of all was that the crew listened to Marjani and called her captain. They didn’t even grumble about chasing after starstones, since our chase was taking us into Jokja. Plenty of treasure there if you know where to look.
Some afternoons I’d sit up in the riggings, whenever there wasn’t nothing else to do, and remember how I used to dream about captaining my own ship, knowing all along it was as impossible a dream as marrying into the emperor’s family or becoming as powerful a witch as Mama. But Marjani had managed it easy enough. Maybe I could too.
The only trouble with the voyage was Naji. I did my best to avoid him after what happened. He and Marjani slept in the captain’s quarters, same as before, but I couldn’t stand the thought of sharing the cabin with him. So I dragged a hammock down to the crew’s quarters and cleared out a spot of my own in the corner. It was as awful as you’d expect, but better than having to spend my nights so close to Naji. Sometimes when I was close to him I felt like his thoughts were trying to crowd into mine. I hated it.
Daytime, it was easier to avoid him. He rarely came out on deck, despite everyone knowing he wasn’t really Captain Nadir, and so I just made sure not to go to the captain’s quarters. Marjani didn’t like it, but she put up with it, sending word through one of the crew to come meet her at the helm whenever she needed me.
One afternoon I was sitting up in the rigging, watching the waves break up against the side of the boat. Wasn’t much work to be done that day; the breeze was just enough to glide us along. The ropes cradled me as I leaned back and blinked up at the bright blue sky.
Everything was beautiful enough for me to forget my troubles.
And then I felt a tension in the ropes. A tug.
“Who is it?” I called out. My shift wasn’t over till sunset, but it could’ve been one of Marjani’s messengers. The ropes tugged again, and then I knew who it was. I couldn’t say how. I just knew.
Naji climbed up onto the yard, his dark hair appearing first, and then his mask, and then his dark clothes. My heart started pounding, but I didn’t say nothing, just watched him climb. When he finished, he tottered back and forth, one hand clinging to the mast, watching me.
We sat in silence for a long time, the wind whistling around us.
I could hardly stand it. Everything up here in the rigging was bright—the white sails, the sunlight. And then Naji had to show up, a dark imperfection.
“You sure you should be out of your cabin?” I asked, hoping if I said something he’d go away. “Not really Captain Nadir’s style, you know.”
Naji shifted his weight, looking uneasy. “I’m not Captain Nadir.” He took a deep breath. “Ananna, I’d like to speak with you.”
I shrugged.
“About—” He edged forward on the mast, moving closer to me. I pulled myself in like I could disappear.
He stopped.
“We still have two more tasks to complete,” he said. “And you clearly can’t stand the thought of my company.”
I looked away from him, out to sea.
“If this is what you want,” he said, “to sleep down below, and to spend your days in the rigging—then it’s fine, for our time on the ship.” His voice wobbled when he said fine, like he didn’t mean it. I looked at him, not sure what I expected to see. What I found was an intensity in his expression. A hopelessness, maybe.
Love spells build on existing desires.
“But when the time comes for us to disembark, we’re going to have to be in close proximity again. You know I can’t leave you alone in the city, especially not with the Mists still a factor.” He leaned up against the mast and looked exhausted. “You’re going to have to speak to me eventually. I’m sorry . . . sorry about what happened, and I want you to know that it isn’t how it seemed—”
“Yeah,” I snapped. “That was the whole problem.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” Naji scowled. “If you don’t want to make amends, fine. But I need to know you aren’t going to run off the moment we make port. That will kill me. Do you understand? It will kill me.”
My skin felt hot. Of course I knew it would kill him. That was the whole reason I’d agreed to help him in the first place, that night in Lisirra.
“I ain’t gonna run off,” I said. “And if you need me to travel with you, then I guess I’ll have to do it. But we’re on the boat right now, so it ain’t much of a problem, is it?”
He stared at me with that same intensity as before, and I could feel him burning through me. I shook my head. “Is that all you want?”
He didn’t move. The wind blew his hair across his forehead and dislodged his mask enough that a bit of scar peeked through, brownish-red in the sunlight.
“Well?” I asked.
“Yes.” He turned away from me. “Yes, that’s all I wanted.”
• • •
The day we arrived in Arkuz was hot and bright, the sun an unblinking eye overhead. The docks were busy and close to full, but Marjani sweet-talked our way into a slot near the marketplace. I’d been to Jokja before, but always on Papa’s boat, and we always sailed along the coasts to plunder, ’cause Jokja’s got a lot of wealth, like all the Free Countries do. They have access to the mines in the jungle, which everyone from outside the Free Countries is afraid to travel through ’cause of all the magic there, plus some of the fastest and best-equipped ships on the seas. Jokja’s navy is the one navy a pirate, Confederate or otherwise, doesn’t want to cross. The Empire navy might be bigger, but Jokja’s got technology on their side. Fast ships and quick cannons. Papa was brave to sack the Jokja coast, all things considered.
Anyway, I’d never much had a chance to just wander around Arkuz the way I did in Lisirra, and I was looking forward to it, to seeing the acacia trees and tasting the chili-spiced fruit Marjani was always going on about.
After we’d docked, Marjani ordered the crew to take shifts watching the ship. As she was sorting ’em out, Jeric yi Niru slipped out from down below and grabbed me by the wrist. I had my knife out before he could say nothing. Naji wasn’t nowhere to be seen. I wondered if it hurt him and he was just respecting my wishes not to see him, or if Jeric yi Niru had no intention of harming me.
“Still chasing after fool’s treasure?” he whispered.
“Let go.” I wrenched my arm free of his grip, though I kept my knife leveled at his throat. “What do you want?”
“You really think you’ll find the starstones here? Jokja’s a land of science, not magic.”
“Magic’s everywhere, Snakeheart. And what do you care anyway? You’ll still get paid.”
“With what? Starstones?” He laughed again. “Do you even know what they are, first mate?” He leered at me and I pressed the knife up against his skin, not enough to hurt him but enough to draw blood. He didn’t even move. “Have you ever seen a starstone before?”
I didn’t answer. Off in the distance, I could hear Marjani shouting at the crew, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Jeric yi Niru’s face.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He laughed. “I have. They’re awfully pretty. Like the stars fell from the sky. That’s where the name comes from, did you know that? There’s a story, an old Empire story. The nobles like to tell it. A man was pursuing a woman, the most beautiful woman in the Empire. She told him she would marry him, but only if he fit a starstone into a ring for her to wear. He spent years seeking one out, and when he finally found it, do you know what happened?”
I pressed my lips tight together and kept my knife at his throat and didn’t say a word.
“He scooped it up in his bare hand and all the life fell out of him. The starstone sucked it right up.”
“He died?” I hadn’t meant to act like I cared, but it came out anyway.
“Yes, first mate. He died. His life flowed into the stone. That’s what makes them so beautiful, you know. All that human life trapped in such a small space.”
Find the princess’s starstones, the Wizard Eirnin had said, and hold them, skin against stone.
Skin against stone.
I scowled, though I eased up on my knife a bit. I’d be damned if I let Jeric yi Niru know what I was thinking. “Sounds like Empire trash to me. Let me guess: The woman in the story was above his station and the man had to be punished for chasing after her? Half the Empire stories I’ve heard end like that.”
“No,” Jeric yi Niru said, “that isn’t it at all.”
“Jeric!” Marjani’s voice cut across the ship. “Ananna! What the hell are you two doing?”
“We were talking, Captain,” Jeric yi Niru said.
Marjani gave him the iciest glare I’d ever seen her take on. “Nothing’s ever just talking with you, Jeric. If I hear one word of trouble from you, you can stay behind in Arkuz in your Empire robes when we make sail.”
That shut him up. The people of the Free Countries don’t take too kindly to Empire soldiers milling around their cities, even a turncoat like Jeric.
Once the boat was secure enough for Marjani’s liking, she led me and Naji off the docks and through the hot bright streets of Arkuz. I kept a big space between me and Naji ’cause it seemed easier that way, but the whole time I was thinking about that stupid story Jeric yi Niru had told me. The task was impossible not because starstones are rare, but because touching ’em killed you.
I glanced at Naji out of the corner of my eye, but he stared straight ahead, his face covered with a desert mask that drew more looks from the Jokjana than his scar would’ve. It marked him as Empire, since there are no deserts in the Jokja. I wondered if he’d ever heard that story. Probably. He’d been pretty quiet on the subject of the starstones. It was mostly Marjani plotting everything out, bringing us here to Jokja. And I knew that didn’t have nothing to do with Naji’s curse or rocks that can destroy you at the touch.
My thoughts churned around inside me like a sickness.
We walked on and on, far enough that I lost the scent of the ocean and caught instead the rainy damp scent of the jungle. Arkuz reminded me of Lisirra, ’cause it was big and sprawling and crowded with street vendors selling spiced fruit and charred meat wrapped up in banana leaves, and shops full of spices and jewels and fabric dyes and precious metals. And everybody looked like nobility, the women in these long fluttering dresses, their shoulders bare and their wrists heavy with bangles, and the men in tailored slim-cut cotton shirts.
I speak a bit of Jokjani, enough to understand the vendors trying to entice me to come buy something from them, but not enough to have any idea what Marjani said to the guard at the entrance to Azende Palace once we finally arrived. He used a different dialect than I was used to, and Marjani matched it. For a while it didn’t look like he was gonna let us pass—he was courteous enough to Marjani but kept glancing at me like I was some street rat trying to make off with his palace-issued bronze dagger, and he was obviously trying his best to not even look at Naji.
Marjani was getting more and more annoyed, I could tell, her hands clenching into fists. The guard kept shaking his head and saying something in Jokjani that I knew wasn’t no but sounded close. Then Marjani took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and told him her name. Her full name, her old name, not Marjani of the Nadir but Marjani Anaja-tu. A noble’s name. I’d never heard her say it.
“Do you recognize that name?” Marjani asked. Her voice trembled a little, and I tensed up my arm, ready to grab my sword if anyone made a grab for her.
The guard answered with something that sounded like another name, and this time it was Marjani’s eyes that got wide.
“Really?” she asked. Then she straightened her shoulders and said something I couldn’t catch. The guard responded. I got you and palace and something about time and nothing else. Marjani didn’t look upset though, which was a good sign. Then she said, “Take us to her.”
The guard scowled and gave her this insolent little bow.
Naji frowned. “Was that true?” he asked Marjani in Empire.
“Every word,” she answered in Jokjani. “Don’t speak Empire here.”
Naji glared at her. I wondered how much of that courtship story got related to the guard.
The guard led us through the palace gate and then through a garden laden with flowers and vines and palm fronds, like the royal family thought they could corral the Jokja jungle for their own use. The air smelled sweet and damp, and women in thin silky dresses looked up from their books and paintings as we walked past. All of ’em were pretty the way nobility always is—it’s a prettiness that’s painted on, not in-born, but it still made me nervous, the way they watched us with their polite, silent smiles.
The palace was open-air, the scent of the garden drifting into the room where the soldier left us waiting. “I’ll alert the queen to your presence,” he said to Marjani before he turned on his heel, footsteps echoing in his wake. Naji and me both sat down on the big brocade-covered chairs set up next to the windows. Marjani stayed standing.
“Are they going to arrest you?” I asked.
Marjani didn’t answer.
“That is what you told him, right?” I asked. “That story about what you told me—”
“No,” Marjani said. “I didn’t tell him the story I told you.” Her fingers twisted around the hem of her shirt.
“Then what—”
“If you spoke better Jokjani,” Marjani said, “you’d know.”
That stung.
“Arrest her?” Naji asked. Marjani ignored him, and he turned to me, which made my heart pound for a few annoying seconds. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” I snapped. “My Jokjani ain’t good enough for me to know anything.”
Worry lines appeared on Naji’s brow.
The door banged open, and the sound of it echoed across the huge, empty room. A pair of guards came in—these had different uniforms from the one at the gate, and they carried swords instead of spears. Marjani straightened up. She didn’t say nothing to me or Naji, just stood there smoothing her hands over the fabric of her shirt, all wrinkled up from where she’d been clutching it.
The guards walked across the room and stopped and turned to the door. And then two more guards walked in, and then a trio of pretty young attendants and then this graceful woman with dark brown skin and a halo of black hair. Figures she’d be beautiful.
“Saida,” said Marjani, her voice husky.
The woman stopped. She lifted one hand to her mouth. “Jani?” she asked. “No, it can’t—”
Marjani nodded. I realized her hands were shaking. The woman—Saida, the woman from the story, the princess, the queen—rushed forward, the soles of her shoes clicking across the floor.
“I thought you were dead!” She threw her arms around Marjani’s neck and buried her face in Marjani’s hair. Marjani scooped her arms around Queen Saida’s waist and her eyes shimmered. When she blinked a tear fell down her cheek.
Naji looked back and forth between the two of them and then over at me.
Queen Saida kissed Marjani, and they stayed that way for a long time, like they’d forgotten what kissing was like. When they pulled apart, their hands stayed touching. “You’re queen,” Marjani said, her voice full of wonder. They were speaking a Jokjani dialect I had an easier time understanding.
“I am.” Queen Saida gave this little bow like it was the other way around, like Marjani was the queen and not her. “Were you so far away that you couldn’t hear news from Jokja?” She smiled. It made her light up like she was filled with stars.
“No, I heard. That’s why I came. But I just . . . I couldn’t quite believe it.”
“You knew I’d inherit.”
“I know, but it’s one thing to hear about, another to actually see—” She shook her head. “And I’ve been in the Empire so long, I’d forgotten—”
“The Empire!” Queen Saida exclaimed. “What’s that like? Have they invaded the ice-islands yet?”
Marjani rolled her eyes. “Surely the queen of Jokja would know if the Empire had made a move for the ice-islands.”
“I know they’ve been trying.” Saida tilted her head. “Are you sure you were in the Empire? Because you look like a pirate.”
“Well, I was doing that, too.”
Queen Saida burst into laughter, though she covered her mouth up like a lady. Which I guess she was.
Marjani gave her a smile, small and sad.
And then Queen Saida turned to me and Naji. He pulled the mask away from his face, rose up from his chair, and gave her this handsome bow. Then he hauled me up by the arm.
“Saida, I would like you to meet Ananna of the Nadir and . . . Naji.”
“Just Naji?” asked Saida.
“I am Jadorr’a.”
Queen Saida’s polite smile didn’t waver once. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” she said to Naji. She pressed her hand to her heart. Naji did the same and bowed again. Then she turned to me. “And you, Pirate Ananna.” I gave her a bow ’cause I liked that she treated me and Naji like we were visiting nobility. Wouldn’t expect that from somebody so beautiful.
“I’ll arrange for rooms in the guest quarters,” Queen Saida said. She looked at Marjani. “Would two suffice? One for each of your companions?”
The air was heavy with the scent of flowers. Marjani nodded slowly. Nobody said nothing about Marjani’s room.
“Wonderful. I’m afraid I have business to attend to . . . I wasn’t expecting you—”
“I’m sorry,” Marjani said.
“Don’t apologize. I’ll let the cooks know you’re here. You can join me for dinner.”
She dipped her head again and then turned on her heel, skirts swirling around her legs. When she left the room, a scent like spice and flower petals lingered in the air.
One of the guards stayed behind.
“I can see you to the atrium while your rooms are being prepared,” he said, in that stiff formal way soldiers get sometimes.
Marjani looked dazed. She didn’t answer him, just stared at the door where Saida had disappeared.
“That would be fine,” said Naji.
The guard glanced at him real quick and then averted his eyes.
The atrium turned out to be an enormous room filled with sunlight that overlooked the jungle. There was a guy there telling a story to some little kids, half of ’em looking like nobles and the other half looking like servants, and a table laid out with food, fresh fruit and sugared flowers and spicy herbed cheese, plus a sweet sugar-wine that reminded me a little of rum.
There were some guards too, near the door, keeping their eyes on everything. I was in half a mind to try and steal something just to see if I could.
Marjani collapsed on a pile of cushions near one of the windows. Sunlight sparkled across her face. She pressed her hand to her forehead and looked out at the jungle, green and undulating like the sea.
“You didn’t ask her about the starstones,” Naji said.
My stomach clenched up. I should tell him what Jeric had said. But not here, surrounded by stories and sunlight, even though I knew I’d have to tell him eventually: I didn’t want him to die, no matter how bad he hurt me.
“The starstones aren’t going anywhere,” Marjani said. “I’ll ask her tonight.”
Naji frowned, and for the first time since I met her, I felt a sudden flash of irritation at Marjani.
The storyteller finished up, and the kids all burst into applause and started begging for another one. I slumped down next to Marjani.
“I didn’t think I’d ever come back here,” she said out of nowhere. “It’s funny. This room—we used to listen to stories together right over there.” She jerked her head to the corner with the storyteller. “And she’d bring in musicians sometimes and teach me how to dance. I’d never learned at home, ’cause Father was so keen on me becoming a scholar.” She smiled again, and this time she looked wistful, which I guess was better than bitter. “I used to think about it sometimes, watching you dance on the deck of the Ayel’s Revenge.”
I blushed. “I don’t dance like a queen.”
“Neither did she.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes longer. Naji seemed real intent on the surface of his wine.
Marjani turned her head back toward the jungle, and I wondered how best to tell Naji that the thing that could cure his curse would kill him in the process.