Page 116 of Cursebreaker

I can’t let go. I can’t let go. I can’t—

Titus covers my fist, clenched around the hilt, prompting me to look him in the eye.

“It’s where he’d want to be,” he says, even as tears roll down his cheeks. And I know what he means, even if it feels like my soul is being torn to shreds. The ocean was always Owen’s home—it always will be. It’s where every pirate wishes to be buried.

“He can rest now,” Titus says, his voice cracking on a whimper as he draws me close to his chest again, his hand still covering mine.

Owen can rest now. He can finally be at peace. No more pain. No more running.

But I will never know peace. Because there is only one way this all ends, and now there is only one choice left to make.

And as Titus holds me close, his body feverish, I already know what I will choose.

PART THREE

FATED

I stand at my window in the captain’s quarters aboard the Starchaser, overlooking the celebration from afar. Colorful lanterns adorn the city streets, packed with the free citizens of Jade—humans and Nightweavers alike—all singing and dancing along to the music that proclaims their liberation.

We should be celebrating, too. The Eerie is free. We have the Sword.

But it feels as if the dagger that pierced Owen’s heart is lodged deep in my own chest, twisting and twisting and—

“I’m going!” Titus hisses through gritted teeth, wincing as he tries to swing his legs off the bed. Eliza stands at his bedside, dabbing a wet cloth over his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Mother stares at the Elysian Map spread out on the table we’ve all gathered around, her expression unreadable. She hasn’t spoken a word since we returned from Castle Grim, except to call a meeting with a select few members of the Order.

My siblings don’t attend.

Charlie excused himself belowdecks after he heard the news about Owen, and Diana wasn’t far behind him. It was Gabriel who drew Margaret aside and held her while she wept, and when the meeting was called, he gave Killian a look that made it clear the two of them would not be joining.

Lewis stayed with Albert in the galley. Every few minutes, his wails echo from below, and it feels as if someone flays another piece of my heart with every cry.

I look at Father, wiping tears from his eyes. Killian stands beside him, his hand on his shoulder, his mouth pressed in a tight line. Both glare at the Elysian Map—at the glittering image of a skeletal key inked over Bludgrave Manor.

The Key. The final Relic.

“I’m not dead yet,” Titus insists, attempting to stand again, only to be pushed back against the pillows by Eliza’s gentle, commanding touch. “Will could be there, at Bludgrave—he could be planning an ambush. Grace, please. I want to see this through to the end.”

The end.

Even if we find the Key, unless I give myself over to Morana, Titus will die. But if I do what Will’s asked of me—if I surrender and give Morana the Relics of Night—then this will have all been for nothing. Owen’s death will have been for nothing.

“I’m going, too,” Henry says, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “If he’s there…” His throat bobs. More than anyone, Henry had believed Will could be saved—that his brother was still in there. That he still loved him. But he killed Owen.

Will killed Owen.

And Henry broke in a way I didn’t expect.

Mother sighs, seemingly resigned. “We’ll reach Bludgrave faster by train,” she says, her voice dull. “Tell those who wish to join us to be ready to leave at first light. In the meantime, the Starchaser should return to the Red Island.”

Mother dismisses the meeting, and the others shuffle out of the captain’s quarters until only Titus and I remain.

I turn to find his arms are already open, beckoning me to join him in the bed. Titus groans, his body tense as I crawl on top of the covers and settle into his embrace, encapsulated by his feverish warmth. All I want is to curl into his side and cry myself to sleep. But I refuse to spend what little time we have left together—whether that be days, weeks—like this: angry, afraid, and full of regret for what might have been.

I remember what Margaret said about marrying Jack—how she didn’t regret it.

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.