Chapter Fifty-Three
Water laps at my ankles, a path of silver moonlight cutting across the surface of the midnight sea.
Behind me, Emrys sleeps curled up in the sand with Killian’s bloodhound, Dinah, nestled close to his side.
Nearby, Liv and Sylvie attempt to corral the silver bunny I gifted to Titus earlier this evening, whom he lovingly named Swiftfeet.
In the distance, my family and friends gather on the beach in front of the restored Pearl, dancing beneath the stars, their smiling faces lit by the soft amber glow of torchlight.
Charlie had wasted no time repairing the palace, leading teams in their efforts to rebuild not just the Pearl but the city of Ember.
With Gabriel’s help, he crafted a memorial, pieces of wood fashioned together from ships destroyed during the battle for the Red Island, the names of all those we lost carved into the wood.
Flynn. Jack. Orella. Leo.
I carved Owen’s name myself.
But it was Titus who chiseled the name William Castor.
I spot Henry dancing with Margaret, his face still smeared with flour from the effort it took to bake the six-tiered cake—a cake from which Albert and Annie sneak pieces when no one is looking—and my heart swells with gratitude and pride.
We survived the Deathwail, and we survived Morana.
Father tells me Henry is happiest in the palace kitchens; I make a mental note to visit him soon.
I scan the crowd, searching for my siblings and friends, and find the crew of the Starchaser remain close at all times—eating their meals together, exploring the island together.
Lewis and Eliza stroll hand in hand along the beach, their cheeks flushed as they watch Rook, Gabriel, and Elsie plan their latest prank.
Seated in an alcove of trees, their lips almost touching, Charlie and Diana are wholly unaware of the colorful lizard dangling an inch over their heads.
A ways off, Lady Isabelle and Mother stand on the steps of the Pearl, silhouetted by the warm interior, watching as Killian engages in a lively, humorous debate with Father, before Father ultimately sweeps Mother into a dance that reminds me of nights aboard the Lightbringer.
The sound of their laughter is its own reward.
I wade farther out, the waves surging past my calves, and look up at the sky—at the tapestry of stars, twinkling against the fabric of night.
“Beautiful.”
Titus’s shoulder brushes mine as he comes to stand by my side. He looks down at me, a hesitant, hopeful smile playing on his lips.
“There she is,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing the scars that cut across my cheek. “My bride.”
A blush creeps up my neck as I catch his hand in mine, sighing into his touch. “It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?”
“I was talking about you,” he says, laughter dancing in his eyes. He kisses my knuckles. “But yes, Isabelle truly outdid herself. Though, your brothers’ speeches…” He shakes his head, but amusement shines through his feigned annoyance. “Questionable, at best.”
I smirk. “At least Margaret was nice.”
He laughs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “You call that nice?”
He presses his lips to my forehead, and I loop my arm through his, leaning into his side. Together, we look out at the horizon.
“What now?” he asks quietly.
“You tell me?” I nudge him with my elbow. “You’re still a king, you know. Shouldn’t you be preparing to set sail for the Eerie?”
“About that…” He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’ve talked to Killian, and we’ve sent word to the Order members back at Castle Grim.” He hesitates, even as a smile lights his face. “I’m stepping down.”
My gaze narrows, my brows lifting. “Stepping down?”
He nods slowly. “The people deserve to choose their ruler.” He smirks, casting a long, sideways glance at the top of my head. “What can I say, you inspired me.”
I run my fingers through my unbound hair, my scalp still aching from the crown that had remained there until this morning.
In one month, the people of the Red Island will choose a new ruler.
Until then, I will continue to lead, but even now, I can feel the pull of the sea, drawing me toward the horizon.
“I was thinking of putting together a crew,” I say, my lips kicking up in a grin. “There’s still so much to explore—so many things I’d like to see.”
His eyes glitter with mischief. “Sounds like an adventure.”
I draw away from him, only for a moment, as I tug something out from the ivory sleeve of my gown. Lewis sewed it himself, embellished with eleven silver stars along the collar.
One for each member of the Oberon family.
One for Jack. One for Titus.
I withdraw the knave of clubs from where it remained during our wedding ceremony, held in place by the band of braided leather—Owen’s lucky card.
Titus’s approving grin is laced with melancholy as I bend, letting the card wash out to sea. With my family and my crew by my side, I have all the luck I need.
Still, the moment I let go of the card, something breaks above the surface of the waves.
There, in the distance, a Hippocampus leaps into the path of moonlight, heading toward the horizon.
The scales of the Myth’s hybrid body sparkle in the beam of silver radiance—its top half like the horses I’ve encountered on land, and its lower half like the fish of my haven at sea.
A laugh bursts from my lips as I look up at the Stars—at the new constellation glittering above, woven into the tapestry of legends.
The Raven and the Mouse.
The constellation twinkles, and it feels as if Owen is winking at me.
With one hand, I clutch the medallion resting between my collarbones. “So,” I say, glancing up at Titus to find he’s already looking at me. “What do you say? Will you come with me?”
His fingers twine with mine. “My love,” he sighs, a smile crinkling his eyes, as blue as my beloved ocean. “I would chase you to the stars and back.”