Chapter Forty-Two
I stand at my window in the captain’s quarters aboard the Starchaser, overlooking the celebration from afar. Colorful lanterns adorn the city streets, packed with the free citizens of Jade—humans and Nightweavers alike—all singing and dancing along to the music that proclaims their liberation.
We should be celebrating, too. The Eerie is free. We have the Sword.
But it feels as if the dagger that pierced Owen’s heart is lodged deep in my own chest, twisting and twisting and—
“I’m going!” Titus hisses through gritted teeth, wincing as he tries to swing his legs off the bed. Eliza stands at his bedside, dabbing a wet cloth over his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow.
Mother stares at the Elysian Map spread out on the table we’ve all gathered around, her expression unreadable. She hasn’t spoken a word since we returned from Castle Grim, except to call a meeting with a select few members of the Order.
My siblings don’t attend.
Charlie excused himself belowdecks after he heard the news about Owen, and Diana wasn’t far behind him. It was Gabriel who drew Margaret aside and held her while she wept, and when the meeting was called, he gave Killian a look that made it clear the two of them would not be joining.
Lewis stayed with Albert in the galley. Every few minutes, his wails echo from below, and it feels as if someone flays another piece of my heart with every cry.
I look at Father, wiping tears from his eyes. Killian stands beside him, his hand on his shoulder, his mouth pressed in a tight line. Both glare at the Elysian Map—at the glittering image of a skeletal key inked over Bludgrave Manor.
The Key. The final Relic.
“I’m not dead yet,” Titus insists, attempting to stand again, only to be pushed back against the pillows by Eliza’s gentle, commanding touch. “Will could be there, at Bludgrave—he could be planning an ambush. Grace, please. I want to see this through to the end.”
The end.
Even if we find the Key, unless I give myself over to Morana, Titus will die. But if I do what Will’s asked of me—if I surrender and give Morana the Relics of Night—then this will have all been for nothing. Owen’s death will have been for nothing.
“I’m going, too,” Henry says, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “If he’s there…” His throat bobs. More than anyone, Henry had believed Will could be saved—that his brother was still in there. That he still loved him. But he killed Owen.
Will killed Owen.
And Henry broke in a way I didn’t expect.
Mother sighs, seemingly resigned. “We’ll reach Bludgrave faster by train,” she says, her voice dull. “Tell those who wish to join us to be ready to leave at first light. In the meantime, the Starchaser should return to the Red Island.”
Mother dismisses the meeting, and the others shuffle out of the captain’s quarters until only Titus and I remain.
I turn to find his arms are already open, beckoning me to join him in the bed.
Titus groans, his body tense as I crawl on top of the covers and settle into his embrace, encapsulated by his feverish warmth.
All I want is to curl into his side and cry myself to sleep.
But I refuse to spend what little time we have left together—whether that be days, weeks—like this: angry, afraid, and full of regret for what might have been.
I remember what Margaret said about marrying Jack—how she didn’t regret it.
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 heart skips a beat.
A piece of his soul.
It’s more than just words—Margaret carries a piece of Jack’s soul. Through marriage, they became one, and whatever magic either of them possessed would have been split between the two of them.
I draw back slightly, looking up at Titus, his gaze hooded as he rubs small circles between my shoulder blades.
His brow furrows. “What is it?”
My pulse pounds in my throat. “Do you trust me?”
“Do you even have to ask?”
I bite the insides of my cheeks, attempting to hold back another bout of tears. “Good,” I say, “because I have a plan.”
Liv and Sylvie perch on my shoulders as the crisp midnight breeze sweeps over the dark waters of the bay, casting my unbound hair behind me.
Other than the two pixies, Father is the only one who knows what I intend to do.
When Titus and I called for him—when we asked if he would not only help but also keep our plans a secret—I was certain he would try to persuade me to change my mind.
But he only smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye that reminded me so much of Owen that I almost wept.
“Your mother and I have no secrets between us,” he said. “But I can give you a head start.”
Now he ensures that I’m alone as I make my way onto the main deck, pulling my coat tighter around me, the embroidery sparkling in the silver glow of the full moon.
Titus insists that Leo’s Pegasus, like all Pegasi, is in close communion with the True King.
That these rare Myths are formed of stardust and sent in response to the desperate prayer of those in need.
It seems a lot to hinge our plans on, but I don’t have any other choice but to hope he’s right.
I can’t go with the others to Bludgrave.
I must go alone, tonight, before anyone finds out I’ve left.
Because if I wait—if Mother or Henry or anyone else knows what I plan to do after I find the Key—they’ll try to stop me.
“Please,” I pray, my gaze fixed on the heavens above, “if you’re listening, send Swiftwing to me.”
Nothing.
In the silence, doubt creeps in, twisting my stomach into knots. Maybe the True King isn’t listening. Maybe he just doesn’t care.
A sob hitches in my chest.
“If you have a plan for me—if you’ve ever had a plan for me—I can’t do this on my own. I need your help.” I’ve no tears left to cry, but my voice catches, my throat burning. “Please.”
The stars glitter overhead, but all is quiet aboard the Starchaser. I bow my head, my eyes shut tight against the sting of gathering tears. I’ll just have to find another way, I think. There must be another way.
I look up at the sky once more, the twinkling tapestry blurry through the prism of tears, and make one final plea. Not with words but with my heart.
I never asked for any of this. But I’m asking now.
Send me, my heart whispers. Let me do what I can to ensure that children like Albert can live in a world where they are free. A world in which people like Henry don’t have to fear cannibal ships like the Deathwail. A world Owen fought for.
A world he died for.
The air goes perfectly still, as if the Stars were holding their breath.
And then—
Wings stir the night.
The Pegasus touches down on the main deck, her coat glittering in the silver radiance of the moon.
A hope. A wish.
An answered prayer.