All the Stars and Teeth (All the Stars and Teeth Duology) by Adalyn Grace Page B

on.”
    I nod, instinctively setting a hand upon my satchel. After everything I used for the execution, it’s almost empty of bones. I’ll feel better once it’s heavy again.
    “And you’re fine with these clothes getting stained?” I ask.
    Bastian takes a long moment to consider it. Eventually, and probably only because they no longer fit him, he relents. “Just … take the coat off, first.” He turns to Ferrick. “And you’ll feel better if you stay on deck. Try to go below as little as possible. Lift your head and keep a watch on the horizon. Sound good, mate? Eyes on the horizon.”
    Ferrick slowly lifts his head, and instead of ducking it between his knees, he props his chin atop one, forces his eyes to the horizon, and groans.
    Bastian takes this as a dismissal. He turns to me. “How about you show me what you plan to do with that arm?”
    My fingers twitch at my sides as I hesitate, thinking of the horrified faces from last night. Of the terrified screams of my people.
    Though my magic was meant to impress them, my performance only solidified my people’s fear.
    For years I’ve done this part of my work in private, training for the day I’d be able to claim my title as heir to Visidia’s throne. But now there’s no joy in showing off my magic. Nerves writhe within me as I think of Bastian watching.
    Will he think my magic too messy? Too brutal? Or will he understand that what I do is necessary for Visidia’s survival?
    He follows me to my cabin, where I scoop the hand from the floor before heading back to the deck to unbundle it. My nose curls at the rancid odor of spoiled meat tinged with sweetness, as though someone has tried to mask the stench of death with awful perfume. The skin has blued overnight. It’s vulgar, yet Bastian can’t stop staring as I draw my dagger.
    Hands aren’t unusual for me to work with. They’re small enough and easy to extract from. I draw the blade across the radial artery, and thick, jelly-like blood congeals beneath the blue skin. Not wanting to get any on Keel Haul , I’m careful when I hold it over the ledge and scoop out the oxidized blood with my dagger. Splotches of red paint the water the color of a dark bruise.
    When we eventually move below deck, Bastian fetches two burlap sacks from storage.
    “Help me understand something about your magic,” he begins as he spreads them out on the wood floor. “Why is it that, even if you’re using Ferrick’s bones or—gods forbid—his entire hand, your magic doesn’t hurt him? Why would it hurt someone else, instead?”
    “Fair question.” I crouch above the burlap, then shift to my knees to maintain balance. This far below deck, the waves are fierce and jarring. “I could hurt Ferrick, but I choose who I bind my magic to, and binding requires a conscious effort. I first have to be near them and be able to look into their soul while doing it. Using Ferrick’s bones as a base for my magic, and not as a binder, is a choice.” I try not to think about how much trust Ferrick has in me to let me keep this severed hand of his as I lay it across the burlap and cut open the palm. The blood is minimal as I stretch the skin away from the thin layer of fat, then cut my way through the muscles beneath.
    Though I’ve drained as much blood as I can, that doesn’t prevent my hands from becoming a mess of tissue. Bastian chokes, halting his own vomit.
    I freeze at the sound.
    “That’s very … interesting,” he starts to say, though his words are strained. Brows creased, I look up just in time to see him take one look at the dissected limb and pass out on the floor.
    My body ignites with shame. It comes in a heat that fills my belly, and a rush of nerves that makes my movements sharper. Quicker. I move to cover the hand, but the ship quivers as Keel Haul hits a fierce patch of water. It wails a ghostly sound, full of splintering and creaking wood, and I’m tossed back to the floor. I latch onto a heavy barrel of wine