Page 92 of A Curse of Salt

I squeezed her hand tightly, trying to draw the strength I needed from her touch. My stubborn heart was still caught in her fractured smile when I pulled myself away.

I looked at Mors next, trying to blink back the tears that blurred my vision.

‘You could come with me,’ I said wistfully. But we both knew he couldn’t. The seas were his kingdom now, and the place I had to go would kill both our souls the same.

‘You could stay,’ he countered, a hopeless quirk to his lips, hands reaching out to squeeze my shoulders gently, holding me at arm’s length. I let my tears splash to the planks as I stared back at the man who’d been family to me when I thought I had none. ‘Give my best to your father.’

‘I will,’ I whispered. The image of Father chained in a cell, slumped and shackled, was the only thing strong enough to drag me on.

I turned to Aron, unable to summon the words – any words – to tell him goodbye. So I let him pull me into his chest and wrapped my arms tight around his neck, smelling the sweat and grime that clung to him, thinking how sad it was that I’d never smell it again. I could hear the echo of his laugh in my mind, could picture his crooked smile and hear his voice as he taught me all the ways to be alive.

‘You can’t be afraid of her forever,’ I whispered in his ear, praying to gods I wasn’t sure I believed in that he would survive Bane. That he’d live a life worthy of his good, good heart. ‘Tell her how you really feel.’

His arms tightened around me and I pressed a kiss to his cheek, his beard tickling my lips. Then I let go, dropping my arms to my sides, taking shallow breaths to hold back the storm inside my breaking heart.

‘Be good, lass,’ he said with a wink, but the levity of his tone didn’t quite reach his eyes.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, to open my mouth without unleashing the sobs that welled in the back of my throat. Instead, I patted the inside pocket of the coat where my dagger was hidden and nodded, mustering the strength I needed to take that final step.

The crisp winter night swallowed up my unfurling heartache as I pulled away and turned to face the Heartless King for the last time. I couldn’t blink back my tears any longer as I stood before Sebastien, feeling the weight of something unbearable pressing down around us.

‘Come here,’ he whispered, but I was already upon him, folding into his arms.

Not ready, I thought. I’m not ready for this to be over.

I kept my eyes closed as his lips found mine. His kiss was long, torturous, all-consuming. My heart throbbed when we pulled apart; that distance alone was too much – I ached to think of the sea that would soon swallow it.

‘Like you in my coat,’ Sebastien said, breathing heavily.

Not ready, not ready, not ready.

‘Good,’ I replied, too tired to bear the weight of my smile. ‘I’m keeping it.’

His fingers were in my hair, my gaze captured in his, but it still wasn’t enough. Then he pressed his forehead against mine and suddenly it was too much – all too much to bear.

Gods, don’t let me go.

Sebastien cleared his throat. ‘I owe you something.’ He withdrew something from his pocket, holding it out to me. A book.

I looked up at him, lips parting. ‘You didn’t burn it.’

I took the worn blue novel and clutched it to my chest, knowing where the truth had been hidden all along. Knowing that everything I’d ever wondered was hidden between those final yellowed pages, written centuries ago in ink that would answer my soul.

‘Don’t read it until you reach the capital,’ Sebastien said, his hand curling around my chin. ‘Promise me.’

I met his searching gaze and nodded. Nodded because, after everything, I didn’t want my last words to be a lie. Then I slipped the novel into the pocket of his coat, feeling its weight against my hip. I only wished there was a part of me I could give him in return.

Long fingers curled around my lapels and Sebastien pulled me close again. ‘Whatever happens,’ he warned, bending down to my ear, ‘don’t come back.’

Silent tears tracked my cheeks, but I forced myself to think of Father, of the twined, frost-gripped ropes of the noose that awaited him. Of Felicie, trembling beside a tyrant’s throne.

I don’t have a choice.

‘Whatever happens—’ I murmured, but he shook his head, cutting me off.

‘This isn’t your fight any more, blackbird.’ He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against him, holding me tight, as if he could prevent anything from finding its way between us. What lies we told ourselves. He buried his face in my hair, lips grazing the shell of my ear. ‘Told you this would ruin us.’

Salt tears stole down my cheeks. How many more centuries would he go on like this, believing himself incapable of breaking the curse? Of falling in love? Maybe if I’d done more – been more – I could’ve helped him see it. But I hadn’t, I wasn’t. I was leaving.

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