“Meet me at the Siren tomorrow night?” she asked.
I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making sure to memorize every freckle and curve of her.
“You could come back with me to the Wraith tonight.” I teased.
She huffed out a breath. “If only. Tell everyone I said hi and remind them I’m still the captain.”
This woman.
“A captain who has to declare themselves captain is no captain at all,” I said.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled off my jacket and shoved it at my chest.
“Good night, Edward,” she said.
I would never get used to anyone, including her, calling me by the name my mother gave me. Too many years spent as Flynn made it sound foreign. I hadn’t stopped long enough to begin to unravel how I felt about it. Maybe someday, when I was old and gray, I would have time to sort it out.
“Good night, Princess,” I said, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.
How strange life was to go from living for dying to living for the sake of living.
Now that I was awake, I wasn’t going to risk losing it. Which meant the Wraith needed to be ready to sail in one week's time. I still didn’t know what Edmonds needed from his bargain with Rose, but she needed to be released from the bargain they made.
I couldn’t help but feel Edmonds orchestrated this exactly as he intended.
Chapter twenty-three
For Better or Worse
Rose
Where there is a wedding, there is cake; and where there is cake, there is happiness enough for everyone.
— Mrs. Penworthy’s Kitchen Almanac, 1716
When I was young and imagined my wedding day, I always pictured a lace dress that hugged my hips and fell down to the floor like a waterfall, gracefully meeting the river below. Of course, since we were children, it was always James who stood across from me, love and admiration in his eyes. Our families smiled and knew it was an inevitability, forever fated, ordained by the stars and skies above.
On the day of my actual wedding, I stared at the woman in the mirror and saw something entirely different. The dress wasjust as I imagined it. It’s long lace trailing behind me, the veil on my head following it. Even my hair was how I imagined, with slight curls at the bottom hugging my neck while it fell perfectly along the sides of my face. The most well-behaved it ever was, all because Ruby wouldn’t concede defeat for over an hour.
No, the exterior was right. It was the woman underneath who was different. Scars that ran deep like veins coursing through her body. Jagged edges stitched her together where the wounds were worst. Lifting my chin, I narrowed my eyes, willing myself to see who I’d become.
Scarred, yes. Chaotic, always. Lost, never again.
I knew who I was now. Brave, willing to risk everything for the people that mattered to me. Defiant, no longer willing to subjugate myself to a box I didn’t fit in. Bold, able to take control of a situation without a crippling fear of failure. Loved, and it shone in my eyes and the glow of my sun-kissed skin.
All that remained truly the same was the upturn of my nose. An inevitability amidst metamorphosis.
This, this woman with red painted lips and charcoal around her green eyes, was exactly who Rosamund Bailey always wished she could be.
And now I was.
“If you want to run away, there’s still time,” Ruby said as she came up behind me and fiddled with my hair.
I smiled, the knot in my chest tightening just a little.
“Did you think about running away on your wedding day?” I asked.
Clicking her tongue, Ruby narrowed her eyes at me.
