Chapter 5
The air leaves my lungs. My mind reels back—just last week, Lucetta’s bright eyes were laughing as she staggered through the courtyard with a basket far too big for her little arms. “Look at me! Picking herbs like Uncle Cael.” She was so proud, even though her basket held only grass.
“She’s alive,” Akilah says quickly, snapping me back to the present. “But your father . . . I’m not sure . . .”
I squeeze my hands into fists, my nails biting into my palms. My father would do what he could, but simplex spells might not be enough. Especially if the injury is severe.
My mind spins, but Quin ushers us through the backdoor, a steady squeeze on my shoulder. Just enough to cut through my panic.
His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment, something unspoken passes between us. And I’m somehow nodding, and racing off with Akilah.
She and I yell over one another, trying to navigate the narrowing canal.
“Left.”
“Other left!”
We’re barely holding it together. A low-hanging branch scratches across my cheek, and I let out a frustrated laugh. My limbs feel heavy from manoeuvring the boat, from the night’s chaos, from the fear that I’ll be too late to help . . .
The trees along the banks deepen the dark with their shivery silhouettes. A breeze stirs, colder than the night itself, rustling the water’s surface and pricking at the back of my neck. Akilah glances behind us, her brow furrowing.
“Did you hear that?” she whispers.
I shake my head, though my pulse quickens. The uneasy stillness around us feels almost . . .
Before I can dismiss the thought, the boat rocks violently; Akilah stumbles back, and I lurch forward, my heart hammering. Daggers flash before us, glinting in the moonlight.
“Stay back!” I shout, and grit back frustration as I throw down the contents of my pockets. “Take it. Just take it and go!”
One scoops up my meagre fortune while another says urgently, “This isn’t—”
“They’ve seen us now.” He tucks my coin into his belt and scouts the boat for more.
He grunts, grabbing at Akilah and dragging her toward the side of the boat. My heart seizes as I reach for her—but she doesn’t need me.
She drives her elbow into the man’s stomach, spins free, and snatches a pole. With a sharp swing, she cracks it against his ribs, sending him and our money sprawling into the canal.
“Next!” Akilah shouts, whirling the pole, her gaze on fire—and I’m rather impressed.
The other two hesitate, their daggers still raised. One lunges toward me, but Akilah sweeps his legs out from under him. “Hands off!” she snaps.
The final—the youngest—steps back, his knife trembling.
I pause, squinting at him in the moonlight.
His eyes widen, his pale face illuminated by the faint glow of the lantern on our boat.
It’s the boy who stole the tithiscar, who hid with me and lured the luminists away.
Before I can say more, a gust of wind sweeps across the canal and another boat glides into view.
A figure shifts at the bow. His form is strong and confident, and his hair whips around him with lingering magic.
I blink, heart stuttering as his form takes more precise shape. Could it be . . .?
But there’s no cane, no stiffness. This magic is soft, almost sweet, like the calm that comes after a storm.
And then I see his face. My breath catches. “Silvius.”
His gaze focuses, then widens in shock. With a graceful leap, he crosses the gap between boats, propelled by a gust of air.
He eyes the boy and Akilah and laughs. “A reunion, I see.”
Akilah regrips her pole, like she’s not sure she won’t need it again. I pat her arm and she lowers it slowly.
Silvius smirks at this and then confiscates the boy’s knife, wagging it at him in gentled reprimand. “What’s your name, boy?”
The boy gulps and stammers, “River.”
“You grip it like this, see?” Silvius shows him and lowers his voice. “And you only point it at your enemy.”
River gulps again, and Silvius pats his head and turns towards me with a half-smile. “Amuletos. I feared I’d drag you into my mess.”
Mess. This isn’t. Had they been meant for Silvius, but jumped too early?
The lurch of the boat under me snaps me back to more pressing matters. “I’m sorry. I have to— My niece . . .” I swallow.
Silvius reads my urgency without a word. He signals to his aklos, and they leap onto our boat and spring into motion, gripping poles and cutting through the water with practised efficiency.
He smiles kindly at me. “Let me get you there faster.”
I sag against the side of the boat on a shivery wave of relief. “Thank you.”
Silvius refocuses on River. “Keeping company with vespertines, boy?”
River drops his gaze with another apology. “They took me in after my family died. I thought I owed them . . . I didn’t know . . .”
His sick family. He’d stolen the tithiscar for them.
I whisper to Akilah, then move to the boy’s side, feeling his rapid pulse. The grief this boy must suffer. He’s only a child, who’d been so brave to help me before. I’d promised if I got the chance, I’d help him properly too.
Akilah hands me a half sack of herbs she found inside the boat. With them, I cast a spell to warm him up and ease his mind. “They took advantage of your plight. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again.”
I rise to Silvius watching us with some kind of appreciation. When he realises I’m looking back at him he gestures around us. “Did they take anything?”
My stomach churns.
I gave them everything I had.
Silvius hums like he’s read my expression. The sympathy is kind; I don’t want to come across ungrateful. I smooth on a smile. “It’s a borrowed boat,” I say and change the topic. “Why are you here?”
His eyes shift to the moon-silhouetted trees passing gently by. “Not all my family gets along. I had a falling out with my uncle; my brother thought it best I leave for a while. I’m on my way back.”
“Your uncle’s cooled down?”
Silvius’s hollow laugh cuts through the tension. “My mother’s ill. I need to be by her side.”
“I hope she recovers swiftly.”
“And I hope whatever happened to your niece, she will be well.”
As Silvius’s aklos steer the boat, he and I discuss River.
The boy huddles, tense and anxious, in a corner of the cabin.
River has no family, no place. He’s young and vulnerable, and Silvius seems .
. . especially prone to being attacked. My experience of Silvius is .
. . not encouraging, not when considering the welfare of a youth barely out of childhood.
But there’s no denying he has resources, and I .
. . my situation in life . . . Finally, it’s decided.
“Consider him adopted, Amuletos,” Silvius says, beckoning the boy over. Something about the ring of my family name on his tongue spills sharp shivers into my stomach. He seems, somehow, more familiar than our acquaintance really warrants. But perhaps it’s only that he’s mysterious—
Akilah clears her throat.
I blink at her.
“You have hearts in your eyes.”
“I’m just grateful! Who wouldn’t be?”
She huffs.
I’m still smiling when the boat bumps up to the jetty, but the tang of home in the air quickly has me coming to my senses. I grab Akilah’s wrist and we hurriedly disembark—
“Wait,” Silvius calls. I turn around on the bank.
In one smooth motion, he pulls a pouch from his waist and tosses it to me. I catch it against my chest and start to protest but he shakes his head with another kind smile.
“We’ll meet again, Amuletos.” His voice lingers as I clutch the weighty pouch. He is kind, indeed.
Father’s forgiveness . . . There could be enough in here.
But that will have to wait.
What matters most is healing my little Lucetta.
We race up the bank and along the cobbled road. I push myself so hard I’m barely breathing, and sweat rolls down my temples. Akilah can’t keep up. A pebble is stuck on the sole of my boot and every pounding step jars.
I splash through a dirty puddle and skid through our gates.
“Caelus!” The call comes from Mother, who races out from her chambers.
My stomach squeezes. “Take me to Lucetta.”
At a glance I can see Lucetta’s leg has been crushed.
Blood has soaked through the crude attempt at bandaging.
I fly over the small chamber and drop to her side, knees hitting the wood floor with a thud.
Her big blue eyes are full of fear as they find mine and hold tightly.
She whimpers. Her tiny hand reaches for me as she stumbles over my name.
“I’m going to put you to sleep first, okay?” I say, my voice cracking. “When you wake up, you’ll be better.”
Glowing purple shimmers gather, sending her quickly into a deep, pain-free slumber.
“Your brother’s roof collapsed in the earthshake,” my mother whispers. “She got trapped under a beam.”
“I need cradlebloom in a tea, with borage. Please.”
She darts out. Only a minute later, the door squeals open again. I turn, but it’s not my mother who’s returned.
My father’s gaze flitters from me to Lucetta as he steps into the room, his face all tight lines. I feel a burning anger expand in my chest and grit it back, teeth grinding together. I’d dreamed of his forgiveness, but now . . . now I don’t want it.
Father sees my look and flinches, his hands curled at his sides. “Where would I have found the funds for a vitalian?”
My throat tightens with frustration. “You could have healed her yourself—”
“The luminist heard about her injury. You know he has his eyes on us.”
“She’s three years old.” My eyes sting and I steady myself against the wall. “Your own granddaughter!”
Her sweet laugh echoes in my mind—bright, innocent. Now, she lies broken, whimpering. A searing ache ripples up my throat. “How can you stand there and watch this.”
I turn back to Lucetta, but Father grabs me by the shoulder and hauls me to my feet. “You think this doesn’t make my heart ache too?”
“If she’s not healed, she’ll have a permanent limp. She could die of the infection.”
“We’d need proof we used official magic.”