Page 100 of A Curse of Salt

My sister’s gaze was glued to the battle raging ahead. ‘I can’t let you go into that.’

I shook my head. ‘You really can’t stop me.’

She tucked a strand of her hair back into its braid. ‘Aurelia. You can’t fight an army.’

‘I have to do something,’ I said.

Aberdeen’s eyes were sharp – steely with the kind of determination that had pushed her from the bounds of the continent to find me. ‘If you make it . . . if you ever need me, just send word,’ she said. ‘I’ll be there.’

A lump clotted in my throat at her words. If I made it past today, it would either be as Bane’s prisoner, or . . . Or I’d have everything I’d ever wanted. I wouldn’t need to be taken care of ever again.

‘I want you to live, too, all right?’ I said. Whether I had a future or not, I didn’t want hers wasted. Nor Felicie’s. There was so much more to the world than the distant threat of a throne and the dark cliffs of the bay.

‘You’re not going to die, are you?’ my sister asked.

I choked on a laugh. ‘Gods, I don’t know. Probably – maybe. Hopefully not.’

Her huff sounded so much like a laugh I couldn’t be sure if she was angry or amused. ‘Just . . . promise me you won’t die for him.’

I bit my lip. If I could choose – no, I’d never choose that. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to sail the seas, seize the wind and make it steer me across the world; I wanted the crew by my side. But suddenly, with the clash of battle thickening on the breeze the closer we drew to the Blood Rose, that was beginning to feel impossible.

‘I’m scared,’ I whispered, so quietly I almost hoped she wouldn’t hear.

Aberdeen sighed. ‘I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t.’

I nodded, oddly calmed by her admission.

I drew Mors’ book from my pocket and held it out to her. ‘Here,’ I said lamely. ‘There’s a map, and . . . if you ever want to find me – these stories, they’ll explain everything. Maybe you could join me, some day.’

I loved that book, but I didn’t need it any more. The Blood Rose was borne of the same magic that filled those pages, that had filled my heart with aching every day of my life. Those tales would do better in my sisters’ hands now. Maybe it could teach them something, make them want more.

Maybe this wouldn’t be the end for us, after all.

Aberdeen took the book hesitantly, fingers wary as they grasped the worn binding, skimming over the image of the little prince – my prince – on the cover.

‘Are you going to be all right?’ I asked.

She nodded. ‘The crew will take me back to Bray. Nothing will stop me getting home.’

Ahead of us, the Blood Rose’s deck swarmed with bodies, too crowded to distinguish friend from foe as we anchored beside her.

My hands shook as one of the sailors tossed a grappling iron to the banisters above, gave it a tug and passed it over to me with a nod. What if I was too late?

I took the rope between my trembling fingers and glanced back at Aberdeen, unsure how to say goodbye, after everything.

‘We’ll find each other again,’ she said, tapping the book in her hands. ‘Eventually.’

I felt a rush of gratitude for her hard-cast determination. I couldn’t have parted with my past without knowing it was safe in her hands. ‘I love you,’ I whispered. And, with a last half-hearted attempt at a smile, I jumped.

I careened through the air and collided with the hull of the Blood Rose, trying to dull the impact with my feet. The wind whipped around me, trying to sweep me like a leaf into its fold. Aron’s voice guided me in my head as I braced my feet on either side of the rope and began to climb. My hands and feet worked more out of desperation than agility, fuelled by something in my very bones. I scaled the ship’s hull, rising to meet the echoing embrace of the Blood Rose, terrified to discover what awaited me on the other side.

The sounds of battle erupted around me as I scrambled on to the banister at last, arms aching.

Pirates danced across the planks, blades parrying, the two crews indistinguishable. I crouched on the rail for a moment, scanning the fray. The deafening clang of metal on metal and the stench of blood were overwhelming, but my eyes were drawn immediately to the centre of the deck.

Two figures were pitched in a raging duel.

I would’ve recognised those broad shoulders anywhere. The shadowed movements that could cut through stone, the dark hair that whipped around him as he spun. His broadsword met the cutlass of the captain who faced him, again and again.

---