Page 20

The first light of dawn 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 head around. 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 the sea.

“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.

But there were signs of life, too.

My gaze swept over the newly installed windows, the glass reflecting the first rays of the sun. The shutters, freshly painted a brilliant white, glimmered like pearls. Even the weeds that had once choked the stone courtyard had been carefully plucked away.

Someone else’s hands were restoring my manor, and my heart ached.

It should have been me. The finality of that loss hit hard, and I bit down on my cheek to stop the sob from breaking free.

I wiped the tears stinging my eyes and forced a smile.

It might not be mine anymore, but for someone, this place still lived on.

I crept closer, curiosity winning the battle against the grief twisting in my chest. A gust of wind rattled the terrace door, and it drifted open like the house was inviting me in.

I rolled the sea glass between my fingers, debating whether the owner might be inside.

If so, they were probably still asleep, and I’d always had a knack for stealth.

Just a quick look, and then I’d go.

My bare feet were soundless as I walked across the courtyard and slipped through the terrace door.

Faint sunlight spilled through the windows, revealing the polished wood floors swept clean of dust and grime.

The cobwebs that used to gather along the walls and cling to the brass wall sconces were gone.

The scent of fresh paint mingled with the salty air as I tiptoed down the hall, passing rooms in various states of repair. Long ago memories trailed behind me, and I could almost hear my father’s laughter and the lively strains of his fiddle drifting through the house.

And then, that last day, as he quietly stacked sea glass into a pile on the stone steps. All I had left to my name was tucked into a bag slung over my shoulder—the weight of it pulling at my neck—but my heart was the heaviest thing I carried.

He’d knelt in front of me, his hair windswept and long, weariness etched into the lines of his face. I’d only seen that kind of sadness once before, when we lost my mother. Both times, he knew the end was coming, and he’d tried so hard to stop it.

And like before, he smiled through glassy eyes, tears barely held at bay.

“Our home is our legacy,” he said. “Promise me you’ll get it back.”

I nodded confidently, shouldering the burden without even considering how much it weighed—a child wearing life’s troubles on her shoulders.

And now, here I was, years later, not standing in a ruin I promised to restore, but someone else’s foundation. And that weight? Still with me. Heavier now with the rocks of time and betrayal.

Cursed… but not broken.

With a new promise tucked under my belt.

I laughed softly. One day, I’d learn to ask for someone else’s promise, instead of always being the one to give them.

Until then, I had a shard to find.

Wandering through the halls, I tried to remember the manor’s floor plan and stopped in front of a pair of arched double doors that led into what was once a ballroom.

Intricate scrollwork, carved in the shape of waves, rippled across the wood’s surface.

My hand closed over the brass handle, but it wouldn’t turn.

That’s strange.

Why were these doors locked? I crouched, studying the keyhole. If only I carried something to pick the lock. But all I had were a few leftover berries, the sea glass, and a dagger I’d swiped from Cass’s stash of knives. The blade was sharp, but not thin enough to do the trick.

“Ahem!”

I went still as someone cleared their throat behind me. The back of my neck prickled, and I slowly slid my hand toward the blade sheathed near my waist.

“What are you doing in here? This is private property.”

I frowned at the childlike voice and released the dagger. When I looked over my shoulder, I found a young girl, maybe eight or nine, peering up at me. I turned to face her, bending slightly with a warm smile.

Her chestnut-brown hair was tied into pigtails, and she wore a linen dress beneath an ivory smock streaked with sand. But what drew my attention were the thin leather gloves ending at her wrists. A strange choice for the current season.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize anyone was here. I was just admiring all the repairs. But I won’t stay. What’s your name?” I asked gently.

“Annie,” she said, curling a pigtail around her finger.

She reminded me so much of myself at that age. Hair tied back against the ocean breeze, clothes dusted in sand, storing seashells in the folds of her smock. It was like looking into a mirror of the past, and it scraped my feelings raw.

“Do you like sea glass, Annie?”

Her blue eyes lit up as she nodded.

I plucked the pink fragment from my pocket and held it out to her. “I found this on the beach this morning. Would you like to keep it?”

She unfurled her gloved fingers, and I dropped it into her palm.

“Do you live here?” I asked as she studied the glass.

Annie shook her head. “No. This is my uncle’s house.”

Ah, the current owner. The man who took my place.

“Who’s your uncle?”

She tipped her chin back as she flashed me a grin. “Gavin Blackwood.”

My lips parted in shock, then slammed into a firm, unforgiving line. The blood roared in my ears, and I stood there, too dazed to speak.

I should have known.

Of all the wretched, diabolical, conniving schemes! Betraying me to an evil sea witch hadn’t been enough for him. No, Gavin Blackwood had gone further .

He bought my house.

No. He stole it!

A dark, simmering rage burned inside my chest.

“That bloody thief!” I seethed under my breath.

Annie looked up at me, her gaze innocent. “Do you know him?”

I ground my molars, then flexed my jaw, trying to loosen the tension. “You could say that.”

Swallowing the fury threatening to choke me, I smoothed my expression and let a serene smile form on my lips.

So, he had found his family.

The evidence was staring me in the face. He had a niece. And who knew what else? A brother? A sister? Children of his own— a wife!

A sharp, unexpected ache twisted through me. I shoved it away, refusing to go there. Those feelings, that dream, were dead and buried.

This proved what I’d known all along. He’d traded my life to find his. If that man thought he could send me to a watery prison and then take my home, he had another thing coming.

A deadly thing.

Murderous.

I bent down and leveled my gaze with Annie’s.

“Can you keep a secret?”