Chapter Twenty-One #3
“I think,” he says with a sad, apologetic smile, “if you’ve made it to Elysia, you’ll know exactly what to wish for.”
Owen doesn’t say goodbye. He had scurried out of my pocket, shimmied down my pant leg, and disappeared half an hour ago, but a sleek black raven observes the Moondancer’s departure from the crow’s nest.
My siblings embrace Mother and Father in turn, swift and tearful; Jack follows suit, as if he were more of a son to them now than Margaret’s fiancé.
Henry throws his arms around Killian, who sags a bit, and I avert my eyes as Henry lets out a weak sob, looking back only to see him scooping Annie into his arms, hugging her close when she whines, “But who’s going to peel the potatoes? ”
Father shakes hands with Diana and Rook. He makes Gabriel promise to keep an eye on them both, and when Father claps him on the shoulder and whispers something that sounds a lot like “Flynn was a good man,” Gabriel’s taciturn expression cracks, if only for a moment.
“A better man than I,” Gabriel says with a weak smile.
Titus leans against the mainmast. I feel his eyes on me, as persistent as the waves lapping at the hull of the ship. But when I turn to meet his gaze, finally, Father approaches him.
He extends his hand. Says something in a low voice.
As Titus shakes his hand, a blush blooms high on his cheeks, and his eyes flit to mine as if involuntarily.
When Mother draws him into a hug, his shoulders tense, if only for a moment. Then he seems to melt in her arms. I tell myself to look away, to give him this moment of privacy with the parents he never had, but it isn’t until I feel a tug on the hem of my shirt that I’m able to tear my gaze away.
Annie looks up at me with wide eyes, her bottom lip trembling. “Will you tell Owen I said goodbye?”
I can’t help but smile. “Of course,” I say. “You’ll see him again, though.”
She just nods, a little dazed. “I know.”
She hugs me, quick and tight, before she boards the Moondancer. Killian helps her onto the gangplank, and a member of Mother’s crew leads her across. Then Killian turns to me.
“It’s not your fault,” I say.
“Funny,” he says, but his tone is anything but amused. Killian’s calculating eyes remind me so much of Will, I can’t bring myself to look at his face. I focus instead on the small gold pendant hanging from his neck. A seashell. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”
I gesture at the pendant. “That’s a beautiful trinket,” I say. “You’re looking more and more like a pirate every time I see you.”
He smiles fondly, and when his eyes twinkle, he looks nothing like Will.
“Orella says hello,” he murmurs, touching the pendant.
He adds, lowering his voice, “She told me to tell you”—he smacks his lips, looking skyward, as if trying to remember—“‘I’ve decided to take your advice.’” He cocks a brow. “Does that mean anything to you?”
I suppress a grin. “That’s between us.”
He nods. “I expected as much. Ah, before I forget—” He brings his fingers to his lips, whistles.
Two glowing orbs of light materialize in the fog, one pink, one orange.
The pink pixie presses her forehead between my brows, her laughter like the soft tinkling of the tiniest bells.
“Liv!” I cry. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”
She draws back, enough that I can see her face. She frowns, iridescent tears streaking her cheeks. Something unspoken passes between us—words that go beyond language. Words that need only be felt.
Will cared for her. He protected her. And she cared for him, too.
“Who’s your friend?” I ask her.
“This,” Killian says with a somewhat disapproving—if not adoring—glance at the orange pixie, “is Liv’s cousin, Sylvie.”
Sylvie twirls, her tiny skirt—orange leaves sewn together—swishing. She giggles mischievously before kissing Killian on the cheek.
“I asked Liv to accompany you,” Killian tells me as Sylvie swoops past my head and lands on my shoulder, her feet dangling. “Sylvie decided to accompany Liv.”
My smile no longer feels forced as I strain to look at the pixie, smothering her giggles with a tiny hand. “Welcome aboard, Sylvie.”
Killian begins listing rules to Liv and Sylvie as the pixies chase each other about his head.
I jolt at the soft touch on my shoulder. I’ve barely turned when Father pulls me into a firm hug. “You are more than your blood, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “Do not lose yourself in search of treasure.”
I can’t seem to find my voice. I just smile. Nod. Blink back tears as Father climbs onto the gangplank, and Mother draws me into her arms.
She presses her forehead to mine. “Make him pay,” she whispers, and when I meet her eyes, they burn like blue fire. “Make them all pay.”
And then she’s gone—crossing the gangplank after Father. I stand there at the taffrail, watching as the Moondancer disappears into the fog.
Calantha. Morana. Will. They’ve taken too much. Too many families have suffered by their hand. Too many people forced into hiding. Too many lives taken too soon.
I’m not just going to make them pay.
I’m going to make them bleed.