Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Abomination!” someone cries.
“Underling!” comes another voice.
My heart leaps into my throat.
Owen draws a wicked-looking knife from his belt, angling himself to stand in front of Titus and me, but Father is quick to raise his hands, stepping between Owen and the panicked crowd.
Dread washes over me, numbing my senses.
Curse or not, you’re a killer, too, Aster—through and through, Titus said all those weeks ago.
And you’re afraid that when all this is over, everyone you love will finally see you for who you truly are: a monster, just like us.
I know now that he would never have said this if he wasn’t compelled.
And still, Will’s words play over in my mind.
It’s only a matter of time before everyone sees you for who you truly are.
Cursed. Abomination. Monster.
All this time, I thought I wanted to be feared.
But now I realize that’s exactly what Will wanted.
Could that be why he bit me? Because he knew, one day, the venom in my blood would mark me as more than his—it would mark me as other?
Someone who can’t be trusted to lead—someone who can’t even trust herself to love? To choose?
Hide, I think. I need to hide. My eyes. My face. My grief.
Before I’ve even called to my magic, the ocean answers.
A wall of water separates me from the razed structure of the Pearl and the wails of those who lost their homes—their families—in the fire, encapsulating me in the rhythmic whisper of the sea.
It cocoons me, just as it did the night I was under the waves for twelve hours.
Glowing, sentient tendrils prod at my skin, attempting to wash away the blood.
As the waves turn crimson, I feel my power rising up within me, strengthened by the presence of the ocean. The onslaught of Manan causes me to retch.
I never asked for any of this. I never wanted the power of the Lightbringer. I wanted to keep everyone safe. I wanted a home where my family could be together—where they could be happy. Somewhere I could be happy. Someone I could be happy with.
Margaret found that. So did Killian.
Now Jack is dead. Orella is dead.
And it’s all my fault.
Maybe it’s not too late to make a deal with Will. Maybe I should just give up.
“Bit early for a swim, don’t you think?”
His familiar, lilting voice—his steady heartbeat—is almost indistinguishable from the lullaby of the waves.
Somehow, for some reason, when the ocean sought to protect me, it didn’t push him away or shut him out. It brought him close so that it is only him and me in this bubble, and no one and nothing else can reach us.
“He’s not going to stop,” I croak, another sob twisting my gut. “He didn’t want the Elysian Navigator. He wants me to choose him.”
Titus winces, and that same mask he once wore as the cold, cruel prince of the Eerie seems to eclipse his expression.
“You’re not seriously considering turning yourself over to Morana?
” His eyes soften as he searches my face, and the mask of the prince slips away.
“Aster, whatever he’s promised you, it’s not real.
There is no world where Morana rules that you or anyone you love will be safe.
I know what these people are capable of. I know what he’s capable of.”
“So do I!” My voice shakes, but when I step back, the water is there, nudging me closer to him.
“But I don’t know what else to do. I can’t lose anyone else.
I can’t keep doing this.” I try to scrub at the blood under my fingernails.
“We have only one Relic—one! And look what it cost us! And now—now this—”
He tries to reach for my trembling hand, but I jerk it away.
“Don’t you see?” I bellow, pointing at the scar on my forearm—the puckered P that brands me as a pirate—then at my neck, where the Deathwail’s rope left its mark, and finally, at the three jagged wounds where the siren’s claws marred my face.
“We all bear scars, don’t we?” I hiss, throwing his words at him from the night we met at Bludgrave Manor, when he confessed to me that he was a part of the Order of Hildegarde.
“What if Will is right? What if I’m broken and there’s no way to put me back together? ”
He reaches for me again, but I evade his grasp as I run my hands through my hair, bracing my head, my eyes shut tight. “I belong with them—with the Underlings! I’m a killer—a monster—and now everyone knows it!”
A sob. A whimper.
“No one could ever truly love me.”
For a moment, all I hear is the rush of the water swirling around us. And then his hands are on my face, and all I can see is him—all I can feel is his touch.
“Everything Will said about me is true,” he whispers, breathless, and when I open my eyes, anguish twists his expression.
“Every word. I’m a monster, Aster.” His eyes glow gold for only a moment, as if to prove his point.
“But you were the one who showed me that it doesn’t matter what we’ve done—who we were before.
” His thumb traces the scar that runs parallel to my jaw.
“Our scars do not define us.” He leans in, exhaling a low, controlled breath. “We are who we choose to be.”
He searches my eyes, and I almost pull away when I see the red reflected in his blue gaze, but he holds me firm—gentle enough that I could step away, but tight enough to tell me it would break him if I did.
His lips are a breath away as he whispers, “I love you, Aster, with every beat of my wicked heart. Scars and all.”
His kiss is slow—tender. Not a kiss born of want, or need, or even desire. This kiss is a promise. The promise of a future, together: Titus and Aster.
And I realize he never needed to say the words aloud. He’s said I love you in every action. Every time he stood by me, every time he held my hand, he was saying, I love you. I love you. I love you.
He draws back, and when I open my eyes, they glow gold—not red.
We are who we choose to be.
“I love you, Titus,” I say, and it tastes like freedom.
He staggers. Sways. Blinks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “I want nothing more than to be the kind of man that might deserve your love.”
I cover his hands with mine as the water closes in around us. “You already are.” And it feels like a luxury, like an awakening, to know that I mean every word that leaves my mouth.
His smile is the most pure, joyful smile I’ve ever witnessed from him—from anyone. It crinkles his eyes, wet with tears. It changes his posture; he stands a bit taller, loose, like the weight he carries in his shoulders has melted away.
He leans in as if to kiss me again, but the water subsides, the waves called back to the sea, leaving us exposed to the murmuring crowd once more.
But I no longer face them alone. Titus takes my hand, his fingers twined with mine even as pressure bears down on my shoulders and the chaos of the crowd threatens to overwhelm me.
I expect that voice to return, to tell me I don’t deserve to be loved.
That I deserve to be feared. But as my crew—Gabriel, Rook and Diana, Margaret and Eliza, Lewis and Charlie and Albert and Henry—all surround me, forming a protective circle, I know that isn’t true. And there’s only one voice now.
A voice within that says, Let them see me.
All of me.
I meet Father’s gaze as he extends the crown once more.
“Why me?” I ask, and I know he understands the true meaning of my question.
I know that as the heir of Hildegarde, the people will look to me to protect them, to slay Morana and take back the full power of the Lightbringer.
But that’s not what I’m asking. No. What I mean is, why has Fate ordered my steps, leading me down the jagged path, from moment to moment, breath to breath, until this instant, standing barefoot in the sand, a crown of gilded seashells held before me, heavy with the promise of war and bloodshed, a prophecy whispered on the tides and a song thrumming in my veins.
He tilts his head. “Why not you?”
He lifts the crown, waiting for my answer, and my eyes meet Mother’s.
She kneels beside Killian, who continues to weep softly, whispering into Orella’s bloodied hair, and what I see there, in Mother’s gaze, is every word she never said.
Every secret laid bare. Because in her eyes, I see the truth.
It has always been me. Not because I was chosen, but because since I was a child, since I could hold a sword and fight, since I heard tales of the legends of the Stars and the heroes of our people, Mother knew I would choose this.
Because if not me, then who?
I might not have what it takes to lead—I might be broken, but that doesn’t mean I can’t choose to keep picking up the pieces. I can’t give up now—not on finding the Relics and ending this senseless war between humans, Nightweavers, and Underlings. Not on myself.
I let go of Titus’s hand and take the crown from Father. And then, I turn toward the people of the Red Island.
“I know you’re afraid,” I say, and though my voice shakes, it carries over the crowd, stunning them into silence. “That’s what Morana wants. She feeds on your fear, your despair, your doubt.”
I step forward, past Father. The people near the front of the crowd retreat a few paces—all except for a brave little girl who reminds me, for an instant, of Elsie.
“For so long, I’ve been afraid—afraid of who I am, afraid of losing control, afraid to trust myself.
I’ve tried to outrun my fears, tried to hide from them.
But I have been to the Burning Lands. I have seen what Morana can do.
This is only the beginning. They will keep coming, until there is nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide.
“You have no reason to trust me,” I say, and my voice no longer trembles.
“I am no more than a stranger to you. And yes, Underling venom flows through my veins.” I hold out my arms. Lift my chin.
“But so does the very power Morana will stop at nothing to obtain. Power that feeds not on fear, but on hope—on love.”
I look over my shoulder at Margaret—at Gabriel and Eliza. At Killian and Henry.
“The people we love will not have died in vain,” I say, facing the crowd once more.
“I am going to the Eerie to take back the land and free the people still in bondage there. If you follow me into battle, I cannot guarantee you victory. But I will make this oath: When you go into battle, I will stand at the front lines. I will be your shield and your sword, and I will never surrender.”
I toss the crown in the sand. Take a step back.
“I have no interest in being queen or captain. I only wish to fight for a world where we can be free. No more running. No more hiding.”
I meet their stares now, not with fear, not with shame, but with expectation. With truth.
“Who will stand with me?”
A heartbeat of silence. Another.
I refuse to falter. I continue to meet their stares unabashedly.
There’s a moment when I think they might call for my execution. I can feel my crew tensing behind me, as if preparing for a fight. But the little girl steps forward, and it’s as if the entire island holds its breath as she retrieves the crown from the sand.
She looks up at me with determination—with hope. And when she offers me the crown, the people of the island kneel once more. Not because I am the heir of Hildegarde. But because they know the truth—they’ve seen me—and now they’ve made their choice.
I kneel, taking the crown from the child. “What is your name?”
She stands up straighter. “Zia.”
“Thank you for believing in me, Zia,” I say as I rise. “Please,” I add, addressing the crowd. “Go. Tend to your wounded.” I face my crew. “The rest of you, prepare to set sail. We leave tonight.”
But as they rise, their attention shifts to something behind me, and I turn then, to where Titus remains on one knee, bathed in the tangerine glow of the setting sun, his expression a mixture of reverence and awe. One hand turns the object in his pocket over and over and—
He withdraws his hand, revealing the small velvet box.
“Aster, my love?” he says, his voice thick, his eyes wide with terror even as a hesitant, hopeful smile tugs at his lips.
My heart races, my blood beating in my ears. “Yes?”
He takes a deep breath. Licks his lips. Clenches his jaw.
He opens the box.
Inside are the two pearl earrings Mother had given me the night of the Reckoning Day ball.
“I thought I’d lost them,” I murmur, only half-aware I’ve said the words aloud.
Titus nods slowly as he looks down at the pearls, his swallow audible.
“I kept meaning to return them to you, but—well, I talked to your parents, and—” He clears his throat, tugs at his shirt collar, sweat slicking his brow.
He meets my eyes, finally, and I find myself tumbling into the depths of his gaze.
“I don’t want to spend another moment without you by my side. ”
I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but stare at him. Blink.
Blink again.
“Aster Oberon,” Titus says, and my heart skips a beat. Flips. Tumbles right out of my chest. “Will you marry me?”
Yes, I want to say. Of course, I mean to tell him. I want this. I want him—always and forever.
But Killian still hasn’t let go of Orella’s body, refusing to part with her. Jack’s blood still paints the front of Margaret’s dress.
Margaret. My heart wrenches as I meet her gaze. I don’t know what I expect, but she’s smiling even as tears stream down her face. “Say something,” she mouths to me.
Mother beams, and for an instant, I feel as if I’m looking at a more youthful version of her—wild, carefree, hopeful. Father’s nostrils flare as he appears to hold back a sob, his kind eyes bright with pride. Charlie, Lewis, and Albert lean forward with anticipation.
Owen clears his throat. Cuts a glance at Titus. Winks at me.
I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But for the first time in a long time, I’m not thinking about what comes next. Only now. Only this. Only him.
I wet my lips to speak, and I think Titus might faint.
“You’re giving me back my pearls—the pearls you stole?” I say, lifting a brow. A teasing grin tugs at my lips. “Weren’t you pirates taught not to take what doesn’t belong to you?”
Titus’s throat bobs, but laughter dances in his eyes. “If I remember correctly, you stole from me first.”
“Oh, and what was that?” I ask, expecting him to make some outlandish claim about his medallion—the medallion that technically belongs to my family.
But he smirks, even though his voice is strained. “My heart.”
Owen chokes. Margaret rolls her eyes.
It feels odd to laugh when the Pearl is burning—when I know there’s still two Relics to find, a Sylk queen to defeat, and a six-hundred-year war to win. But I think, maybe that’s what love is: someone who makes you laugh when you know you ought to cry.
“Margaret is never going to let you live that down,” I whisper, loud enough that my siblings can hear.
He winces, flashing his teeth in a pained smile. “So, is that a yes?”
I answer him with a kiss.