Jasta was busy tying off a rope against the mainmast. Hastra and Hano were sitting on a crate in the shade of the mainsail, the young guard cross-legged and the sailor girl perched like a crow, leaning forward to see something cupped in his hands. It looked, of all things, like the leafy green beginnings of an acina blossom. Hano made a delighted sound as the thing slowly unfurled before her eyes. Hastra was surrounded by the thin white threads of light particular to those rare few who held the elements in balance. Alucard wondered briefly why the young guard was not instead a priest. The air around Hano was a nest of dark blue spirals: a wind magician in the making, like Jinnar—
“Careful, now,” said a voice. “A sailor’s no good without a full set of fingers.”
It was Bard. She was standing near the prow, teaching Lenos a trick with one of her knives. The sailor watched, eyes wide, as she took the blade between her fingertips and flipped it up into the air, and by the time she caught it handle side, the knife’s edge was on fire. She gave a bow, and Lenos actually flashed a nervous smile.
Lenos, who’d come to Alucard on her first night aboard the Spire and warned that she was an omen. As if Alucard didn’t already know.
Lenos, who’d named her the Sarows.
The first time Alucard had seen Delilah Bard, she’d been standing on his ship, bound at the wrists and frizzing the air with silver. He’d only ever met one magician who glowed like that, and that one had a black eye and an air of general disdain that spoke louder than any words. Lila Bard, however, had two average brown eyes, and nothing to say for herself, nothing to say for the corpse of Alucard’s crewmember, stretched out there on the plank. Had offered a single broken sentence:
Is en ranes gast.
I am the best thief.
And as he’d stood there, taking in her dagger smile, her silver lines of light, Alucard had thought, Well, you’re certainly the strangest.
The first bad decision he’d made was taking her aboard.
The second was letting her stay.
From there, the bad decisions seemed to multiply like drinks during a game of Sanct.
That first night, in his cabin, Lila sat across from Alucard, her magic tangled, a snarled knot of power never used. And when she asked him to teach her, he’d nearly choked on his wine. Teach an Antari magic? But Alucard had. He’d groomed the coil of power, smoothed it as best he could, and watched the magic flow through clear channels, brighter than anything he’d ever seen.
He’d had his moments of clarity, of course.
He’d thought of selling her to Maris at the Ferase Stras.
Thought of killing her before she decided to kill him.
Thought of leaving her, betraying her, dreamed up a dozen ways to wash his hands of her. She was trouble—even the crew knew it, and they couldn’t see the word written in knotted silver above her head.
But for all of that, he liked her.
Alucard had taken a dangerous girl and made her positively lethal, and he knew that combination was likely to be the end of him, one way or another. So when she’d betrayed him, attacking a competitor before the Essen Tasch, stealing their place even though she had to know what it would mean for him, his crew, his ship … Alucard hadn’t truly been surprised. If anything, he’d been a bit relieved. He’d always known Antari were selfish, bullheaded magicians. Lila was simply proving his instinct right.
He thought it would be easy then, to be rid of her, to take back his ship, his order, his life. But nothing about Bard was easy. That silver light had snagged him, gotten his own blue and green all tangled up.
“You knew.”
Alucard hadn’t heard Kell coming, hadn’t noticed the silver stirring the air outside his thoughts, but now the other magician stood beside him, following his gaze to Bard. “We look different to you, don’t we?”
Alucard crossed his arms. “Everyone looks different to me. No two threads of magic are the same.”
“But you knew what she was,” said Kell, “from the moment you saw her.”
Alucard tipped his head. “Imagine my surprise,” he said, “when a cutpurse with a silver cloud killed one of my men, joined up with my crew, and then asked me to teach her magic.”
“So it’s your fault she entered the Essen Tasch.”
“Believe it or not,” said Alucard, echoing Kell’s words about Rhy from the night before, “it was her idea. And I tried to stop her. Valiantly, but it turns out she’s rather stubborn.” His gaze flicked toward Kell. “Must be an Antari trait.”
Kell gave a grunt of annoyance and turned away. Always storming off. That was definitely an Antari habit.
“Wait,” said Alucard. “Before you go, there’s something—”
“No.”
Alucard bristled. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I know it was probably about Rhy, so I know I don’t want to hear it, because if you say one more thing about how my brother was in bed, I’m going to break your jaw.”
Alucard laughed softly, sadly.
“Is that funny?” snarled Kell.
“No …” said Alucard, trailing off. “You’re just so easy to rile. You really can’t fault me for doing it.”
“No more than you will be able to fault me for hitting you when you go too far.”
Alucard raised his hands. “Fair enough.” He began to rub the old scars that circled his wrists. “Look, all I wanted to say was—that I never meant to hurt him.”