12. Vera
Vera
Iapproached Starke’s house, which was just a few minutes’ walk from the harbormaster’s office.
The front door faced the open sea, where I could barely make out the White Moonstone bobbing at the dock far below.
I raised my hand to knock, but just before I did, a little bird landed on the windowsill to my right.
It ruffled its black feathers with a low warble, and the sight made me pause.
I miss you, Mama.
I tried not to let myself dwell on what I’d left behind. I had to focus on the things I could control, like finding Mortep and making him pay. Maybe that would finally undo all the misery those I loved were put through because of me.
Resolve solidified once more. “Starke,” I called, pounding on his door. The temperature had dropped considerably since the sun set hours ago. I tugged my leather jacket tighter around my midsection and peered in through the side window.
“Starke, I know you’re up.” Another knock. “You can never sleep after long trips.”
There were heavy footsteps and a few muffled curses before the door finally swung open. I took a step back, my eyes shooting from his bare chest up to the ruffled blond waves and tired eyes.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled, scratching his beard with a scowl. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but this was important,” I started. “Odessa and I were doing some digging, and we found—”
“Hello, Vera, it’s good to see you, too,” Starke interrupted, voice scratchy with sleep. “Yes, my evening was fine. How was yours?”
I stopped in my tracks. “What?”
“For once, it would be nice to open the door for you and have a friendly conversation, not the start of another side quest to get us killed.”
My brow furrowed. He often made small jokes and comments about the leads I dragged him into, but this time felt different. His light blue eyes were closed off, the wrinkles at his forehead were more pronounced, and his arms were crossed tightly over his chest.
I licked my lips. “I—I’m sorry. I just thought—”
“I know what you thought.” He let out a breath and rubbed the stubble on his neck. “And I guess it’s partially my fault.”
Guilt wormed to the surface. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“When have I ever said no to you?” He shook his head. “Of all the ridiculous schemes you bring to me, when have I ever denied you?”
“I’m not—”
“So it’s no wonder you think you can barge in here in the middle of the night and talk about your next big plan after we almost died on your last one.
” He threw his hands in the air. “It’s my fault.
I’ve given you every reason to think I’m just a doormat.
A stepping stone to get you where you need to go. ”
My stomach sank. He thought I was using him.
And with gut-wrenching clarity, I realized I had been.
The guilt was familiar and sharp, a reminder of all the shame from my past I’d funneled into anger.
Because anger was easier than this. It was easier than knowing how deeply I failed those I cared about.
“Starke, I’m sorry.” My breath caught. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Of course, you didn’t. Because you’re so…” He trailed off and curved his hands in the air, as if he was picturing my head between them as he shook them in frustration.
“Selfish?” I offered. “Fixated? Obsessive? Really, I have a whole list for you.”
I cracked a tiny smile, and that seemed to soften him. His shoulders relaxed as he rolled his eyes. “No, Vera. You’re just…you’re difficult.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
He paused for a moment, letting the discomfort bleed away into the night. “So, why did you come here?”
“It can wait.” I took a step back. “You’re right. I’ve been taking you for granted, and I have to stop. Let’s just forget about—”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he insisted, grabbing my wrist. My arm tensed at the unwanted contact, but he didn’t let go. “I want to help you, okay? You know that. All I meant was…there comes a point when that’s all I am to you.”
I carefully extricated myself from his grasp. “You’re my friend, Starke,” I said. “One of my only friends. And I’m sorry I haven’t treated you like one. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be used, and I would never want you to feel that way.”
“See, I don’t even know what you’re talking about when you say things like that.
” He gestured toward me. “There’s so much about you I don’t know.
You told me Mortep hurt you, and you’ve made it your life’s mission to hunt him down.
But that’s all I know about you, Vera. Don’t you think I deserve a little more? After everything?”
My nose twitched. I looked down at my fingers, absentmindedly picking a nail and trying not to feel his gaze burning a hole through me.
That was the thing about getting close to others.
It gave them power over you. It made you vulnerable.
If I had learned one thing in my years under Scarven and Mortep’s hold, it was that vulnerability was currency men like them traded in.
I vowed to myself that I would burn alone before I let someone else own a single piece of me again.
But Starke wasn’t like them. He was a good man; perhaps one of the only ones left. If I couldn’t learn to give parts of myself to the people who cared, how would I ever find my way out of those cells?
“I don’t know how to give more,” I finally whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.
Starke’s gaze softened. He reached forward to take my hands in his, and I tried not to flinch.
When his thumb rubbed circles into the back of my hand, it took all of my restraint not to yank away.
His touch—any touch—felt wrong, like cuffs clamping down.
I felt the walls closing in even as I forced myself to stay in control.
Just breathe, Songbird.
My chest loosened, and I let out a small breath.
Starke led me inside. His house was simple but functional.
He spent so much of his time on the sea that he hadn’t bothered to accumulate many large possessions.
The front door opened into a living space, with beige walls made of clay and no decorations beyond the fireplace mantel, which had an assortment of gadgets—a rusty compass, a wooden model of a ship, and his old captain’s crest. Directly in front of the fireplace was a small leather couch.
We both sat. “Start at the beginning,” he said, giving me an encouraging half-smile. As if it was so easy. So simple. Nothing in my life had ever been easy. But he was right; I had to give him something. I owed him that much for everything he’d done for me.
I took a deep breath and tunneled down deep into the memories I’d done such a good job of burying. It was like opening an old wound that had been sewn shut and cauterized, sharp and stinging as I peeled back the edges.
“The beginning,” I repeated. “Okay. Listen, Starke. I haven’t been entirely truthful with you.”
He snorted. “No kidding.”
“I told you I wasn’t from around here. I come from an empire farther south, which you know. But what you don’t know is that where I’m from, we have…well, everyone has magic.” I winced, realizing how ridiculous that sounded to someone outside of the Veridian Empire.
He raised an eyebrow. “Magic?”
“Like, magical powers.” I rolled my lips. “We can all do different…things. Magical things.” I cleared my throat at the blank expression on his face. “With our powers.”
“Yeah, I got that part.” He chuckled nervously. “What do you mean? What kind of magic?”
“It depends on what province you’re from,” I explained.
“There are six, each one with a different power. There’s lightbending, where people can create light with their hands.
And shadow wielding, which is similar but with shadows.
” I imagined phantom shadows swirling around my hands the way they used to, twisting and dancing with my light magic.
“And there are people called Striders who can transport themselves from one place to another in the blink of an eye. Then there are Alchemists, who cast spells and curses and things. I come from the province of Shifters—people who have an animal form they can turn into. And the last ones are Illusionists.”
A vision of Everett hit me so hard in the chest, I couldn’t breathe. I remembered the first time he used his Illusionist magic on me.
Let me show you a world that doesn’t hurt, Songbird.
“Vera? Are you alright?” Starke asked, breaking away the fog.
“Yeah.” I swallowed. “Illusionists can create images in your mind. Those are the six abilities. Everyone born in the Veridian Empire has one.”
Starke stared at me for a moment, the crease in his forehead deepening with each passing second. I wasn’t sure if he believed me.
“Can you say something?” I asked, unable to take the silence any longer.
“I just…I’m processing.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re serious? All of this is real, you’re not messing with me?”
“I wouldn’t lie about this, Starke.”
“Okay. You have magic. How have I never seen it before? Can you show me?”
“About that,” I said slowly. “Magic doesn’t exist here. Once I left the Veridian Empire, my magic disappeared.”
“Hmm. Convenient.” His lip twitched up at the corner.
My shoulders fell. I got to my feet, already regretting this conversation. “Look, it’s fine. You don’t have to believe—”
“No, Vera, I do. It was a joke.” He reached for my hand again, but seemed to think better of it. “Come on, tell me the rest. I promise I believe you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, then sank back into the couch. “Fine.”
“You said you’re from the province of people who can shift. Does that mean you can turn into an animal?”
“Yes, I’m a Shifter.” I paused, knowing there was no going back now. “And…all of the other five.”
He scratched his ear. “I thought you said everyone only has one?”
“That’s how it usually is. But not me.” I fixed my gaze on my fingers again. To give my hands something to do, I pulled a nearby blanket into my lap and played with the frayed edges.