Briar’s anguish twisted into fury. "Can’t orwon’t?"
Vivienne flinched. "It’s not that simple, Briar, it’s?—"
"If you’re going to leave me, then just GO!" Briar shouted, the words raw and gut-wrenching.
Before Vivienne could react, Briar turned and ran.
"Briar, wait!"
She was already gone, sprinting up the beach toward the village. Vivienne chased after her, but Briar was faster, fueled by heartbreak and betrayal.
Lewis stood leaning against the bakery’s outer wall, arms crossed. He straightened as Briar burst inside, her sobs muffled by the closing door.
Through the window, Johanna’s gentle, knowing gaze met Vivienne’s. With a sad smile, the baker gathered Briar into her arms. Vivienne slowed to a stop, breathless.
Lewis’ voice was quiet. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Vivienne shook her head, pressing her lips together as her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. "Let’s just… get ready for tomorrow."
10
Lewis and Vivienne ascended the sloping streets toward Crown Housing in silence. The rhythmic scuff of their boots against the cobblestones filled the quiet, but no sound could drown out the sting of Briar’s parting words. Vivienne had known Briar wouldn't take the news well, but she'd clung to some desperate hope that they could part on better terms. That she could offer comfort instead of heartache.
At the last crossroads, Lewis stopped. "I need to grab a few things before meeting you at the house."
Vivienne nodded absently, her thoughts already drifting elsewhere.
The last two blocks stretched longer than they should have, the familiar path to the Banner house suddenly foreign beneath her feet. She stopped before the front door, a lump forming in her throat.How much longer can I call this place home?
The weathered stone walls stood resilient against time, their rough texture softened by ivy creeping up one side. The steep roof, like the others in Crown Housing, was blanketed in terracotta tiles that caught the late-afternoon light, their warm hues glowing like embers.
Sage-green shutters framed the windows, the same shade her mother always said reminded her of summer meadows. Through those panes, she could just make out the interior of the ground floor, the spaces where laughter had echoed and quiet mornings had stretched into lazy afternoons filled with books and ink-stained hands.
Years of footsteps had carved a familiar trail to the doorstep, a path her father always swore he’d replace with stone but never did. The front garden, once wild and unruly, had been tamed into something practical, hardy wildflowers chosen for their resilience. Lewis had planted them himself, knowing none of the Banners had the time or patience to maintain a fussy garden.
She exhaled slowly, pushing open the heavy mahogany door, her fingers brushing over the intricate carvings. Delicate flowers and twisting vines curling around the pages of open novels.
Vivienne surveyed the towering bookshelves lining the central living space. Books filled every available inch, their spines a patchwork of faded parchment, embossed gold lettering, and hand-stitched bindings.
She traced a finger along the spine of a well-worn volume, its leather cover cool beneath her touch.Any chance there’s a book here that could tell me what to do now? How to handle all of this?
A firm, familiar rhythm of knocking sounded at the door. Lewis.
"It’s open," she called, still scanning the shelves as if they might suddenly yield the answers she needed.
Lewis stepped inside, the scent of damp earth and parchment clinging to him. "Hey," he greeted. "Find anything useful?"
Vivienne let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Not yet. I haven’t stumbled across a how-to guide for ‘your parents are lost at sea, and you’re being strong-armed into an absurd quest to break a fictional curse.’"
Lewis’ mouth curved upward. "Shame. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere—probably shelved next to ‘So You’ve Been Given an Impossible Ultimatum by Your Monarch.’" He rocked back on his heels, avoiding eye contact. “Call me crazy…” he took a deep, noisy inhale, “I think the curse might be real.”
Vivienne’s gaze snapped to his face, her expression frozen in expectation. She waited for the punchline, a smirk, a repressed laugh, or any indication this was one of his usual jokes.
"I know, I know," he said, hands raised in mock surrender. "But hear me out."
With a satisfying thud, he swung an oversized canvas tote onto the dining table, the weight of it rattling the dishes.
"While you were still passed out this morning, I did some research—don't look at me like that. I remember where the library is even when you're not babysitting me."
