Page 128 of Cursebreaker

Titus and I share a mischievous smile.

“The night I left for Bludgrave Manor,” I say. “Father married us.”

Mother—who prides herself on never being surprised—turns to Father, her arms crossed, mouth gaping, and the smug grin on Father’s face tells me he’s been looking forward to this moment for the entirety of their marriage.

“I was a captain once, you know,” he says with a wink.

Titus reaches into his pocket, retrieving the pearl earrings. With a delicate touch, he fastens them in both of my ears, his hands trembling. “We should have a proper wedding,” he says. “I believe you still owe me another dance, after all.”

The laugh that escapes my lips seems to light in his eyes as he sweeps me into another kiss.

Lewis clears his throat again, and when Titus pulls away, he looks as if he might toss Lewis overboard.

“So the power of the Lightbringer…” my brother starts.

“Morana got only half of Aster’s half,” Mother says, nodding slowly, a glint of pride in her dark blue eyes. “Because of the marriage bond, when Aster sacrificed herself to Morana, Titus held on to the rest.”

I note the way my siblings wince at the mention of Morana—of my sacrifice. Perhaps one day they’ll ask me what happened—what I saw when I crossed from this realm into the next—but for now, they’re quiet. Solemn.

Rook barks a laugh. “Of course! Brilliant!” And then, half to himself, “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Charlie’s brow furrows in confusion. “So… Titus has the power of the Lightbringer?”

Titus takes my hand, looking down at me with reverence and awe. “No.” He shakes his head. “I felt it leave me the moment Aster came back to life.”

And I felt it return—the pressure, the weight of it. The power coursing through my veins.

Will must have seen it, too. He must have known.

I look up at Titus, and as his fingers twine with mine, I think I see it—the shimmer of gold dust, weaving through the air around us, cocooning Titus and me in gilded light.

“Promise you’ll never do that again?” he asks.

My mouth curves, a coy smile. “Do what?”

He brushes my lips with his thumb, tracing the shape of my joy. “Go where I can’t follow.”

I squeeze his hand tighter, pressing my forehead to his. “I promise.”

This time, it’s Father who coughs to get our attention. When we turn toward him, standing over the Elysian Navigator, draped across a barrel, he looks apologetic, his lips twisted in a frown.

Titus never leaves my side as Father pricks my finger, and my blood splatters the parchment. The silver ink glows, forming an image of an iron gate that reminds me, for an instant, of the entrance to the Castors’ estate.

“Maker of All,” Father breathes, looking up at Mother and Killian in turn. “All this time…”

My heart sinks.

There’s no hiding the location of the gates from Morana.

She’s already there.

We’re too late.

By the time we reach the Red Island, Morana’s naval forces—ships she acquired through her conquests of nations like Hellion and Kane, Nera and Tyton—line the shores of Ember, thick plumes of black smoke billowing into the pale gray sky of morning.

But the Red Island is not defenseless.

My heart swells with hope at the sight of fleets from across the Known World that have answered the call for aid—pirate clans, their flags waving, cannons blazing—all protecting the one place that is ours in a world where we have been forced to hide. Our haven. Our home.