Page 92 of Cursebreaker

I spend my days at the helm, watching the horizon, Liv perched atop my shoulder. But in the evenings, when the others gather for supper on the main deck, I retreat to the captain’s quarters—alone.

I do exactly as Owen said and decide to put the good of the crew first—above my own feelings, above my own fears. If I am going to lead them, they cannot see me break again.

Every night, Titus comes to my room. And every night, he sits in the chair by my bedside, his hand outstretched, close enough to touch.

Not yet, I tell myself. Soon, when we’ve found the Relics, I can choose myself. I can let myself want.

But I let myself hope—hope we could find the Relics and make everything right—and I lost Elsie. I can’t afford to hope that Titus and I could ever be happy together, only to lose him, too.

I don’t take his hand. Even when the nightmares keep me awake. Even when I want nothing more than to feel his fingers twine with mine.

One day, I tell myself.

But not yet.

Not yet.

The sun is shining when we reach the Red Island.

I stand at the helm, watching as the others deploy the gangplank, but I can’t seem to move. For so long, Owen and I dreamed of this place—dreamed of the life we could have here. It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined it would be. Bright, colorful birds soar above the lush green jungles of Ember, and along the beach, the people gather, waiting to welcome us home. But it all feels wrong. Warped, like a dream twisting into a nightmare.

I thought, after we found the cure, everything would be different. I thought, maybe, we could be safe here. But we’re not safe. Because he knows where we are—Will knows where we are. That voice that comes from somewhere deep within my chest whispers, He’s coming. And I know I can’t stay long.

No, Will is after me. The bounty is on my head. And if he’s followed us…

“So this is it.”

Titus’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts. I turn to find him already standing by my side, silhouetted by glittering sapphire waters as far as the eye can see.

He looks past me, a smile touching his lips. I follow his gaze to the island—to the Palace of Pearls, the wooden fortress built into the boughs of an ancient tree near the shoreline. “I never thought I’d get the chance to see it for myself.”

My heart sinks. How could I forget? All this time, Titus was never allowed to know the location of the island—never allowed to see it for himself. But this place—these people—they belong to Captain Shade more than they’ve ever belonged to me. He fought for them. Risked his life for them every time he put on the mask.

“Will you show it to me?” he asks, his voice soft as he offers me his hand.

My breath catches. I meet his gaze, as blue as my beloved ocean, and it’s as if something tugs at my chest, drawing me closer to him, urging me to take his hand.

Maybe we’re doomed. Maybe the True King’s plans for our lives never intersect. Maybe we’re fools for wanting. We may never have more time together. But we have today.

And so, I let myself take his hand, let my fingers twine with his, and we disembark the Starchaser together.

We’ve just stepped off the gangplank and onto the docks when Orella throws her arms around me, the scent of toasted coconuts and baked vanilla encapsulating me in warm, sun-soaked arms. I drop Titus’s hand only to return Orella’s fierce embrace. But when she draws back, and Titus twines his fingers with mine, a small, triumphant smile twitches her lips.

“I see you decided to take your own advice,” she says, flicking a glance at our clasped hands.

My heart skips a beat, and I almost expect Titus to pull away.

But he squeezes my hand, flashing her a charming grin. “Your Majesty,” he drawls, bowing low.

When his head dips, Orella’s brows lift as she shoots me a look that screams, Wow.

On any other day, I might blush. But I barely manage a weak smile, and Orella’s face falls.

She brushes a strand of hair from my face, pats my cheek with her dainty, calloused hand. “Umiko sent word ahead,” she says, almost reluctantly.

I don’t even have a moment to process what she’s said—what it means—when I see Mother and Father racing down the docks. My heart leaps into my throat, my head spinning.

They know. They know about Elsie.