Page 45 of Wicked Sea and Sky

“And I’ll steal the monocle from his pocket.”

Cass grinned. “And then the vault is ours.”

Chapter 15

The first light ofdawn spread across the sky as I slipped out of the conservatory while Cass was still sleeping. We’d spent most of the night perfecting our plan to steal the seeds. It was solid but tricky. And it had been years since either of us had performed such an elaborate heist.

We were out of practice and rusty, myself especially. I just hoped my hands didn’t shake when I picked Atticus’s pocket. The last thing I needed was to trade an underwater prison for a land one.

I hurried toward the main road, eager to finish my errand before Cass realized I was gone. She would have tried to talk me out of it if she knew where I was headed.

My legs felt sturdier today, and the salve had done wonders for the wounds on my hands. But walking and healing felt surreal. By now, I should’ve been staring into a bowl of seaweed, bracing for another day in the mines. Instead, I ate a few of the berries and half a muffin I’d stolen from Cass’s pantry and thought of Sirena facing that fate. She was alone now after sacrificing her identity for me. The muffin, delicious as it was, soured in my stomach.

Was it only yesterday that I’d been locked in a cell? Shut away from the sun and the warm air? It was hard to wrap my headaround. But the only good night’s sleep I’d had since entering Saltgrave had rejuvenated me and steeled my nerves. I needed every scrap of inner strength I could cobble together to finish what I’d started.

But first, there was one thing I had to do.

And maybe I was a glutton for punishment—nothing like missing the pain once it was gone—but I wanted to see my family home.

Just once, and then, I’d let it go forever.

I traded the rest of my breakfast for a ride on the back of a merchant’s wagon, then unfolded the newsprint I’d wrapped the muffin in. It was yesterday’s edition, and I hadn’t been able to resist swiping it from Cass’s table when I spotted Reid’s byline.

I’d told Cass to focus on the future, yet here I was, peeking into the past at the first opportunity, and sneaking away to visit my old home. I wasn’t proud, but temptation had gotten the better of me.

It was strange to think our crew had disbanded, almost like I’d returned to the world upside down. Cass was cultivating a witch complex, Bowen was a recluse, and Gavin—

No. I wasn’t going there. I didn’t care where Gavin was. The edges of the newspaper crinkled in my fists before I forced myself to relax. I scanned Reid’s article about a gang raid near the docks. He’d traded mystical artifacts and treacherous hunts for the seedy life of the kingdom’s underbelly.

His words didn’t dance off the page anymore. They landed heavy and dark. He used to dream of fame, of uncovering mystical secrets. Now he combed the back alleys, a shadow with a byline in the back of the paper.

Time was such a tricky thing, healing some, burying others.We’d been the unlucky ones.

I sighed, tracing my fingers over the ink-stained page. Only Gavin had come out on top, but he’d sacrificed my soul to do it. I let out a dark laugh and crushed the newspaper in my fist.

The cart slowed as we reached the coast, and I hopped off the back with a grateful wave.

Salty air whipped my hair around my shoulders as I wandered along the same beach I used to walk with my father. I kicked off my borrowed boots that were half a size too small and let my toes sink into the sand.

I stared at the horizon, listening to the rhythmic crash of the waves. If not for my curse, I could’ve stood there forever, enticed by this peaceful purgatory, where the wind warmed my back instead of shoving me toward destiny. And for a moment, I slipped into old habits, scanning the beach for shells and peering into rock crevices for bits of sea glass.

A pale pink fragment caught my eye. I plunged my fingers into the swirling surf to collect it. Its edges were smooth, unlike mine, and I almost laughed. Funny how glass rolls beneath the sea until it becomes something polished, while I came back a broken shell.

The sea glass warmed in my palm, pulsing with a faint glow. Tendrils of energy crept up my wrist, the ocean’s strength and wild abandon coiling inside my chest. It cleared my head, pushing away some of the darkness still curling like black magic through my veins.

I hadn’t lost my gift. If you could call it that.

I wasn’t sure of my purpose beyond the immediate need to save my life and the lives of others who were counting on me. But that mystical current was still there. Cool and calming. Proof that my fate and my bloodline were intertwined with thesea.

“Why didn’t you tell me the stories were real?” I asked the wind, hoping to hear my father’s answer returning on a gust of air. But only the gulls answered, squawking overhead, and they seemed just as uncertain.

With a heavy sigh and leaden feet, I started up the worn path that led to the manor at the top of the cliff. The driftwood guardrail, hammered together with old nails, had rotted through in places. It looked ready to collapse beneath someone’s weight, right when they needed it most.

My breath caught when I crested the stone steps.

There it was, my family home.

It was timeworn, with ivy clinging to the wind-battered walls. Broken shingles lay in the overgrown grass, and the ornate iron rail that enclosed the balcony facing the sea had rusted.