She wove through the crowd, past the bonfires and performers, searching for his familiar face. When she reached the main fire, her steps faltered.
Lewis and Bianca. They stood near the flames, the music having slowed to a ballad. She rested her head against his shoulder, his arm curled around her waist.
Vivienne’s chest tightened. He looked so content. She stepped back.You're leaving tomorrow. Let him have this, Vivienne.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned toward home. There was still work to do, and if her hunch was right, she and Lewis had far more than maps to decipher.
Maybe there is a curse to break.
12
After returning from the Harvest Moon Festival, Vivienne had scribbled down every fragment of the sailors' shanty she could recall, cross-referencing the lyrics against her mother’s journal until exhaustion claimed her. She had woken before dawn, the remnants of sleep fading quickly under the weight of her restless mind.
She had bathed, braided her hair, and now sat at the dining table, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm against the sides of her coffee mug. The steam curled into the cool morning air. The thought of eating made her stomach churn. Hunger tangled with nausea in a tight knot.
Her traveling trunk sat in the middle of the room, packed and waiting for pickup. A smaller tote rested beside it, filled with essentials—her mother’s journal, a mirrored compact, a few hygiene items. Everything was ready. There was nothing left to do but wait.
Vivienne tugged at the loose strings on her cream-colored tunic, her gaze flicking toward the clock on the mantel. Eight o’clock. She sighed, moving her jaw from side to side.
The chancellor’s cart won’t be here until nine.
She had been standing there when Lewis received the instructions, but the words had blurred in the aftermath of the King’s decree, drowned beneath the roar of her own panic.
A thought struck her.I could see Briar.
It was a risk, but maybe her cousin would let her say goodbye. Before doubt could catch up with her, she grabbed her tote and slipped out the front door. The brisk September air bit at her skin, and she immediately regretted burying her cloak at the bottom of her trunk. She quickened her pace, letting the motion warm her limbs. The streets of Vantner were quieter than usual, the remnants of last night’s revelry lingering in the form of discarded ribbons and the faint scent of spiced cider in the air.
As she reached the bakery, the tinkling of a spoon against porcelain carried through the crisp morning.
"Vivienne!"
Johanna sat at a small café table, stirring her tea in a delicate, porcelain teacup. Her full cheeks rounded as she smiled, warmth spreading through her hazel eyes but couldn’t mask the undertone of sadness in her expression.
"I wasn’t sure I’d see you again before you left," Johanna said, rising from her chair.
Vivienne lowered her gaze, her throat tightening. "I wasn’t either."
Johanna didn’t hesitate. She pulled her into a firm embrace, arms strong, comforting, familiar. The scent of honey and warm bread wrapped around Vivienne, stirring twenty years of memories. She clung to the moment, trying to stretch every second, as if holding on would keep her tethered to safety.
As they pulled apart, Vivienne forced herself to steady her voice. "I was hoping to talk to Briar."
Johanna sighed, her smile softening. She reached out, squeezing Vivienne’s arm. "She cried herself to sleep only a few hours ago." Her voice was gentle but firm. "I don’t think you two should speak right now. It might do more harm than good."
The ache in Vivienne’s chest sharpened, but she nodded. She understood.
Before she could speak, Johanna waved a hand and disappeared into the bakery. "Stay right there," she called over her shoulder.
Vivienne exhaled deeply, running her fingers over the curved wrought-iron chair back. The bakery’s warm scent filled her lungs, yeast, cinnamon, and fresh pastries just out of the oven. She wanted to memorize it, to carry it with her across the sea.
The shop bell chimed, pulling her from her thoughts. Johanna strode back outside, carrying a large bag that smelled heavenly. "Here you are," she said, pressing it into Vivienne’s hands.
Vivienne’s eyes widened at the weight. It was filled with pastries and bread still warm from baking. "Johanna, I can’t accept this… this is too much."
"You can, and you will," Johanna planted her hands on her hips, her expression leaving no room for argument. "At least now I won’t have to worry about you starving to death on that ship." She gestured toward the distant sea, her mouth curling into a sad smile.
Vivienne let out a breathless laugh, fighting the sting behind her eyes. Then, before she could stop herself, she pulled Johanna into another embrace, holding on tight.
"Thank you," she whispered.For the food. For the love. For being here.
