Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
I dropped down into the dinghy, reaching up to grab hold of Corynne’s waist and lower her down with me.
I relished the weight of her in my hands for what could very well be the last time.
The rope belt I made in the long, dark hours before dawn shifted under my fingers, the beads clicking softly against one another.
My breath hitched in my throat, a tight knot forming in my chest at the sight of it.
The fact that she had chosen to tie it around her waist sent a fresh wave of emotion through me.
It was a small thing, but in that moment, it felt like the strongest tether between us.
When her feet touched the boards, she looked up at me with that same stubborn expression she had when I ordered her off the cutter and onto the Mourning Star, except now there was something else I couldn’t identify underneath it. Longing? Sorrow?
No, if I knew her like I thought I did, she had something up her sleeve, some card to play that she didn’t think I’d guess at. It didn’t matter, though. I’d be gone before then.
Neither of us spoke while I rowed. Mist hung low over the water. The shore was a murky silhouette, barely discernible through the shroud. Corynne sat unnervingly still, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if willing it to disappear.
When the keel finally ground against sand, I stepped out first and offered my hand, already preparing for the loss it would bring when I woke.
She took it with a grim set of her lips and disapproval written in the lines of her face.
The moment her boots hit the beach, a visible shiver ran through her and, for an instant, her fingers tightened on mine.
“The map ends here,” I said. The words came out rough. “Whatever the Stella Mortis is, it waits somewhere on this island. You won’t need me for the rest.”
Her brows furrowed, lips opening and shutting again before she asked, “You’re not coming?”
“No.”
“Silas—”
I lifted a hand and touched the side of her face, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth and relishing the softness of her skin.
“You wanted a life that belonged to you. I can’t turn back time to fight for you, but I can do so now.
Take whatever power waits here. Use it. Build the future they tried to keep from you, and do not look back. ”
“And you? You’re simply going to sail away and keep losing pieces of yourself until nothing of the man inside remains?”
“That was always the ending, Beastie. For a moment, I got to live as if it weren’t.”
Sadness flooded the gleam in her eyes, silver lining the rims until a single tear fell down her cheek.
I opened my mouth to speak, but never got the chance.
Corynne fisted my coat and pulled me down into a kiss that erased every word off my tongue.
I made a sound against her mouth that I should have been ashamed of, but I kissed her back as desperately as I felt.
My hands settled at her waist when she softened against me, fingers brushing the belt and holding on to her as if touch alone could keep her from slipping out of memory once the sea took the rest of me.
She pulled away, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her eyes searching mine for something I couldn't give.
“I love you, Silas.”
The words, stark and honest, were a blade to the fragile peace I'd fought so hard to construct. I couldn't return them, not with the truth of what I would become. I had to let her go.
“I know,” I managed, the sound rough in my throat. “And that's why I must let you go.”
I stepped back, creating the distance I desperately craved and loathed in equal measure.
“Promise me you won’t leave,” she said, her broken words falling in a plea. “Promise me you’ll wait. I’ll find the Stella Mortis, and then we will figure out the rest together.”
I looked at her for a long time, every version of myself that still remembered how to want something good begging to give her the truth.
The rest of me, the part that had already chosen her freedom over the chance of my own, knew the truth would only make her refuse to climb that slope alone. So, I nodded once.
“I promise.” With that lie, I handed her the satchel she’d come aboard the Mourning Star with, her journal tucked away safely along with some of the relevant scrolls we’d worked on together.
Either she believed me in earnest or wanted to believe me badly enough that she wouldn’t let herself think twice about my empty words.
Corynne turned before either of us could speak again and started up the rocky slope. Mist enveloped the powder-blue dress, and then she was gone.
I rowed back to the ship in mournful silence. The salt spray felt like tears I wouldn’t shed, and the vast, indifferent sea mirrored the hollowness that had settled deep within my bones.
Finch was waiting for me at the rail and said nothing as I climbed aboard, only looked past me toward the hidden shore and then back at my face. Whatever he found there made him close his mouth on whatever question he’d been about to ask.
“Raise anchor,” I said.
A few of the men hesitated, looking at each other as their faces paled.
“B–but, Cap’n—”
“Raise the fucking anchor. We’re setting sail.”
Finch’s gaze flickered back to the treacherous water then to the grim set of my jaw.
He didn't need further urging. The groaning of the capstan filled the air as it lifted the heavy weight, a sound that promised movement, a forced departure from this place that now felt like a grave. The ship lurched and timbers protested as we began to break free from the land’s reluctant grip.
I gripped the rail, knuckles white, and stared at the receding cliffs, trying to burn the image of Corynne’s disappearing form into my mind before the curse could claim its prize.
Low enough that only the wind could hear, I whispered my goodbye. “I love you too, Beastie. Through any lifetime, across any sky or cluster of stars, I will always belong to you.”