Chapter Thirty-Nine
We give Jack and Orella a proper burial at sea.
Mother reads a passage from Captain Gregory’s Psalter.
We salute, and Killian and Margaret both fire their pistols into the air in honor of their beloved.
The Starchaser sways, and I hold Margaret’s hand as two wooden coffins float away, rocked by the cradle of the waves.
The rest of the Starchaser’s crew have already returned to their duties, my siblings and friends moving about the deck in solemn silence.
Father stands at the helm, a red tricorn casting a shadow on his hardened expression.
Killian stands beside him, his face twisted with anguish as he stares off into the distance, where the setting sun casts a warm glow on Orella’s casket.
Liv and Sylvie are never far, either tucked away in his shirt pocket or perched on his shoulders.
We parted ways with the fleet days ago, but every day, mermaids like Umiko bring news of what’s taking place beyond the borders of the Eerie.
Morana’s leading a full-scale invasion of the other six kingdoms, bringing about the destruction of cities and loss of life.
At this very moment, leagues away, Mother captains the Moondancer, accompanied by the Myths I’ve come to know from the Order of Hildegarde and the full naval might of the Red Island.
Together, they seek to liberate the people of the Eerie, all while hoping to distract Calantha and the Underling forces from our arrival at Castle Grim.
A part of me longs to join Mother in battle, but there’s nothing more important to me than finding the Sword—than completing the Relics of Night and saving my little sister.
I couldn’t save Jack and Orella. But I can still save Elsie.
Which is why I don’t tell anyone that I accessed my bonewielder affinity back on the Red Island.
I still can’t be sure if what happened during the fire—when I lifted the wood that pinned me to the ground—was because of the power of the Lightbringer or something else.
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I didn’t. Either way, I’ve spent a lifetime ignoring my abilities—denying my magic.
And there is some truth to what Will said to me that night aboard the Starchaser.
If I can’t control my abilities as a bloodletter—if I can’t control the bloodlust—then attempting to use my other affinities might make things worse.
I might truly lose control. And I can’t afford to hurt anyone—especially not when we’re this close to finding the remaining Relics.
“I don’t regret marrying him.” Margaret’s quiet voice draws me out of my thoughts, surprisingly steady as she swipes a tear from her cheek. “Even if it lasted for only a moment. For that moment, we were one. Now I carry a piece of his soul with me forever.”
My gut twists as I look over my shoulder to find Titus standing next to Owen near the entrance to the captain’s quarters, already watching me, his brows knit as he nods along to whatever Owen whispers.
Since we left the Red Island, the two of them have been practically inseparable.
They’re good for each other, and I think that after losing Will, it’s been invaluable for Titus to have someone like Owen to lean on—someone who doesn’t give him a wide berth when he walks into a room, because he knows what that feels like, too.
Someone who has his own regrets—his own dark secrets—and doesn’t judge Titus for his particular capability for violence.
Titus jerks his chin at the door before ushering Owen inside, indicating for me to join them.
But I don’t leave Margaret’s side. Not until Jack’s coffin crests a wave far off in the distance, and Margaret lets out a sharp breath, tearing her hand from mine to throw herself at the taffrail, seemingly desperate for one final look.
It’s only then that I turn and follow Owen and Titus into the captain’s quarters.
Owen stands over the Elysian Map, his lips pressed in a thin, tight line.
My hand slips into Titus’s, our fingers twining together. Owen flicks a glance at our clasped hands, but he seems too focused to comment.
“It won’t be difficult to sneak in,” Owen says, dragging his finger over the illustration of Castle Grim. “The challenge lies in finding the Sword and getting out quickly—preferably without being caught.”
“Preferably,” Titus teases, his brow quirked. But I don’t miss the way his trembling hand squeezes mine.
And neither does Owen.
“No one would blame you if you choose not to come along, mate,” Owen says, his voice low.
Titus sets his jaw. “I’m still king.”
Owen nods slowly, concern crinkling his kind eyes. “I’m not sure Calantha sees it that way.”
Titus’s throat bobs. “Calantha wasn’t the only one who fed on my blood,” he says. “She bartered with it for favors within the court. Those people—that place—”
Understanding flickers in Owen’s gaze, and again I wonder what unspeakable atrocities he endured during his time with the Underlings. “Like I said, no one would blame you if you chose to stay behind.”
“I can’t,” he says. “Not if he’ll be there.”
My stomachs sours. Will. There’ve been reports he’s already made it to Castle Grim, aided by the Nightweavers aboard the Deathwail. Meanwhile, the Starchaser moves at a steady pace, hoping to give Mother and her fleets—aided by their own alliance of Nightweavers—a chance to reach the Eerie first.
“Will knew,” Titus says, his voice breaking. “He knew what she did to me—what those people did to me. He promised me once that he would be the one to make them pay for it. And now… now he’s working with them.”
He squeezes my hand tighter, and it’s only when I squeeze back that the pressure relents.
“Then it’s settled: We’re all going,” Owen says in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from the topic of Will and his betrayal. “Any ideas where the Sword might be?”
Titus blows out a tight breath, running a hand through his hair. “The graveyard, perhaps? It could be in a mausoleum, or a statue—”
“What about the Bloodrose garden?” Owen offers. “It could be buried there—”
The two of them go back and forth, tossing out possible locations, but my thoughts return to Will. What if he’s already found the Sword? No one knows the castle better than Will, having spent years of his life exploring secret passageways and hidden rooms with Titus.
Except for one…
“Hildegarde’s cavern,” I say, and Owen and Titus fall silent, their heads whipping in my direction.
“Bloody brilliant,” Titus murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple.
“Of course!” Owen says, tapping his chin. “You said the water there spoke to you, right? And it glows, just like the water—”
“That led us to the cave in the Republic of Ruin!” Titus finishes, eyes bright with hope.
Warmth blooms in my chest. If I’m right, we could be one step closer to finding the Sword. Then all that’s left is the Key, and we’ll have all three Relics of Night. We’ll possess the means to enter Elysia—and more important, Morana won’t.
There’s a quiet knock on the door, and Lewis slips inside, his face grim.
He extends an envelope to me, nostrils flaring with barely contained frustration. “It’s addressed to you.” He hesitates, his teeth clenched. “The pages are blank.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
During my time at Bludgrave Manor, while Will was fighting with Titus across the sea, he’d written a letter to me—keyed to my blood so that only I could read it.
I take the envelope from Lewis with shaking hands and unfold the parchment.
My darling Aster,
Castle Grim has fallen. The nobility who supported Calantha’s rule are dead.
Consider this an engagement gift.
I crumple the paper in my fist.
“Well?” Owen asks, his brow furrowed. “What did it say?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “He’s been watching us,” I say. “He knows we’re engaged.” I turn to Lewis. “How did you get this letter?”
Lewis frowns. “Albert found it in the crow’s nest.”
I take a deep breath, my pulse pounding, and meet Titus’s gaze. “He’s killed them all—the nobility who sided with Calantha,” I say. “They’re all dead.”