Page 97 of Cursebreaker

I catch my breath. Wipe the tears from my face.

“I swear it,” I say. “In this life and the next.”

A sad, knowing sort of smile curves Owen’s lips. “In this life and the next.”

Lady Isabelle transforms the beach just beyond the grand entrance to the Pearl overnight. All day, she orders us about—hang streamers, hold this, fetch that—and I don’t mind the distraction, though I find myself yawning as Lewis and I arrange chairs along the sandy shore. My siblings and I had stayed up almost all night, telling one another stories, reminiscing over memories of our time aboard the Lightbringer, dreaming of our futures beyond the war.

Isabelle keeps Titus busy, too. She already sent him on an errand before I made my way to the dining room for breakfast, where Orella pulled me aside to discuss the logistics of our upcoming voyage to the Eerie. She assured me the Starchaser would be ready to sail by tomorrow and that her fleets were rallying—hundreds of ships, flying under the banner of the Red Island, preparing to accompany us on our journey.

By late afternoon, Isabelle rushes about the grand foyer of the Pearl, ensuring we’re all properly dressed—she adjusts Rook’s bow tie, smooths Diana’s hair back, fusses with Gabriel’s untucked shirt. There wasn’t time to tailor custom suits and gowns—much to Lewis’s chagrin—but Orella spent the morning pulling together a wardrobe of blush pink, dusky lavender, and robin’s-egg blue. I adjust the flowing sleeves of my canary-yellow gown one last time before the double doors of the Pearl open and the musicians begin to play.

Henry loops his arm through mine. “Has anyone ever told you that you clean up well for a pirate?”

I elbow him in the ribs. “That’s not a compliment.”

A lazy grin. “I know.”

We make our way down the aisle, two at a time, toward where Jack stands beside Titus at the altar, wearing a suit made of the finest ivory linen.

Titus’s jaw tightens as his eyes meet mine.

Henry leans in, a smirk in his voice when he whispers, just loud enough for Titus to hear, “I told him I’d fight him for you, you know.”

I can’t smother the grin that tugs at my lips. “And?”

We split ways as Henry moves to stand to Jack’s left, and Titus says, low enough that only the four of us can hear, “And I said that’s a strange way to tell me he has a death wish.”

Jack barks a laugh, covering his mouth with his fist, as a blush sets my face on fire.

The others make their way down the aisle in pairs—Eliza and Lewis, Charlie and Diana. Liv perches on Rook’s shoulder, kicking her feet, and Sylvie sits atop Gabriel’s head, tugging at strands of wavy dark hair. Albert follows, carrying a pillow of cream-colored velvet, the pearls with which Jack had proposed nestled in the fabric. Finally, Killian escorts Isabelle, who beams at Jack as if he were her own son, and behind them, Owen escorts Mother down the aisle. When she takes her seat near Orella, I notice the empty chair beside her—the book of Myths already there, holding Elsie’s place.

My throat tightens as the musicians play a tender melody, and the guests—Order members I recognize, including the badger, Tollith, and citizens of Ember I’ve yet to meet—all stand, turning to face the doors to the Pearl.

Margaret’s ivory gown shimmers like moonlight on crystal waters as she glides down the aisle, holding on to Father’s arm as if it were the only thing that keeps her from racing toward her fiancé.

Jack comes undone at the sight of her, and it seems as if it were only Henry’s light, steadying touch on his elbow that keeps him from melting to the ground in a puddle of tears.

Henry casts his eyes skyward, his jaw clenched. I wonder if, when he looks at Margaret and Jack, all he sees is the life he could have had with Dorothy.

I look away, but when I do, I meet Titus’s eyes. He’s already watching me, his gaze intense. It seems as if he were fighting an internal battle, his hands clenched at his sides, shoulders turned, just slightly, to face me. We’re only a few feet apart, but it’s suddenly too far. His mouth works, as if he were about to say something, if only he could find the words.

It feels as if we’re standing on a precipice.

Ready to jump. Ready to fall.

And then Margaret is here, standing in front of Jack, and it looks as if it takes every last ounce of Titus’s self-control to tear his gaze from mine.

Titus welcomes the guests, and he must say something amusing, because there’s laughter as everyone takes their seats. But I can’t hear him over the blood drumming in my ears, can hardly catch my breath as my heart pounds against my rib cage.

You have to choose yourself, Titus said. But I’ve been too afraid. Too afraid to trust my feelings. Too afraid, because choosing myself means allowing myself to hope—to want.

But I can’t keep letting life move forward without me. If Titus can trust himself, after everything that’s happened—if he can be brave enough to want, to choose—then maybe it’s time I try to do the same.

“I vow to stand by your side in the valleys and on the mountains.” Margaret beams. “I vow to love you when the sun is shining and when the storms are raging. I vow to be your home and haven, your sword and shield, always and forever.”

Something prickles the back of my neck.

Jack brushes a tear from Margaret’s cheek, his smile so pure and joyful it lights up his whole face. He echoes Margaret’s vows, blinking back tears of his own. “I vow to be your home and haven, your sword and shield, always and—”