Page 110 of Cursebreaker

Mother beams, and for an instant, I feel as if I’m looking at a more youthful version of her—wild, carefree, hopeful. Father’s nostrils flare as he appears to hold back a sob, his kind eyes bright with pride. Charlie, Lewis, and Albert lean forward with anticipation.

Owen clears his throat. Cuts a glance at Titus. Winks at me.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But for the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about what comes next. Only now. Only this. Only him.

I wet my lips to speak, and I think Titus might faint.

“You’re giving me back my pearls—the pearls you stole?” I say, lifting a brow. A teasing grin tugs at my lips. “Weren’t you pirates taught not to take what doesn’t belong to you?”

Titus’s throat bobs, but laughter dances in his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you stole from me first.”

“Oh, and what was that?” I ask, expecting him to make some outlandish claim about his medallion—the medallion that technically belongs to my family.

But he smirks, even though his voice is strained. “My heart.”

Owen chokes. Margaret rolls her eyes.

It feels odd to laugh when the Pearl is burning—when I know there’s still two Relics to find, a Sylk queen to defeat, and a six-hundred-year war to win. But I think, maybe that’s what love is: someone who makes you laugh when you know you ought to cry.

“Margaret is never going to let you live that down,” I whisper, loud enough that my siblings can hear.

He winces, flashing his teeth in a pained smile. “So, is that a yes?”

I answer him with a kiss.

We give Jack and Orella a proper burial at sea. Mother reads a passage from Captain Gregory’s Psalter. We salute, and Killian and Margaret both fire their pistols into the air in honor of their beloved. The Starchaser sways, and I hold Margaret’s hand as two wooden coffins float away, rocked by the cradle of the waves.

The rest of the Starchaser’s crew have already returned to their duties, my siblings and friends moving about the deck in solemn silence. Father stands at the helm, a red tricorn casting a shadow on his hardened expression. Killian stands beside him, his face twisted with anguish as he stares off into the distance, where the setting sun casts a warm glow on Orella’s casket. Liv and Sylvie are never far, either tucked away in his shirt pocket or perched on his shoulders.

We parted ways with the fleet days ago, but every day, mermaids like Umiko bring news of what’s taking place beyond the borders of the Eerie. Morana’s leading a full-scale invasion of the other six kingdoms, bringing about the destruction of cities and loss of life. At this very moment, leagues away, Mother captains the Moondancer, accompanied by the Myths I’ve come to know from the Order of Hildegarde and the full naval might of the Red Island. Together, they seek to liberate the people of the Eerie, all while hoping to distract Calantha and the Underling forces from our arrival at Castle Grim.

A part of me longs to join Mother in battle, but there’s nothing more important to me than finding the Sword—than completing the Relics of Night and saving my little sister.

I couldn’t save Jack and Orella. But I can still save Elsie.

Which is why I don’t tell anyone that I accessed my bonewielder affinity back on the Red Island. I still can’t be sure if what happened during the fire—when I lifted the wood that pinned me to the ground—was because of the power of the Lightbringer or something else. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, I’ve spent a lifetime ignoring my abilities—denying my magic.

And there is some truth to what Will said to me that night aboard the Starchaser. If I can’t control my abilities as a bloodletter—if I can’t control the bloodlust—then attempting to use my other affinities might make things worse. I might truly lose control. And I can’t afford to hurt anyone—especially not when we’re this close to finding the remaining Relics.

“I don’t regret marrying him.” Margaret’s quiet voice draws me out of my thoughts, surprisingly steady as she swipes a tear from her cheek. “Even if it lasted for only a moment. For that moment, we were one. Now I carry a piece of his soul with me forever.”

My gut twists as I look over my shoulder to find Titus standing next to Owen near the entrance to the captain’s quarters, already watching me, his brows knit as he nods along to whatever Owen whispers. Since we left the Red Island, the two of them have been practically inseparable. They’re good for each other, and I think that after losing Will, it’s been invaluable for Titus to have someone like Owen to lean on—someone who doesn’t give him a wide berth when he walks into a room, because he knows what that feels like, too. Someone who has his own regrets—his own dark secrets—and doesn’t judge Titus for his particular capability for violence.

Titus jerks his chin at the door before ushering Owen inside, indicating for me to join them. But I don’t leave Margaret’s side. Not until Jack’s coffin crests a wave far off in the distance, and Margaret lets out a sharp breath, tearing her hand from mine to throw herself at the taffrail, seemingly desperate for one final look. It’s only then that I turn and follow Owen and Titus into the captain’s quarters.

Owen stands over the Elysian Map, his lips pressed in a thin, tight line.

My hand slips into Titus’s, our fingers twining together. Owen flicks a glance at our clasped hands, but he seems too focused to comment.

“It won’t be difficult to sneak in,” Owen says, dragging his finger over the illustration of Castle Grim. “The challenge lies in finding the Sword and getting out quickly—preferably without being caught.”

“Preferably,” Titus teases, his brow quirked. But I don’t miss the way his trembling hand squeezes mine.

And neither does Owen.

“No one would blame you if you choose not to come along, mate,” Owen says, his voice low.

Titus sets his jaw. “I’m still king.”