Page 106 of Cursebreaker

Owen drops to the sand with a thud, convulsing. His eyes roll to the back of his head, foam trickling from his lips.

And then Gabriel’s shouting from close by, “I told him if he did that one more time, it was going to kill him!”

I whirl to find the Deathwail is gone, cloaked as Will and his crew make their escape. The Starchaser still sits in the harbor, but my friends and family have all come ashore, now focused on offering aid to those who fled the city of Ember during the attack.

Lady Isabelle crouches over Owen, her serene expression pinched with concern. “Get him to the infirmary!”

But Owen gasps, his eyes wide, and it’s as if he comes back to life, rolling onto his hands and knees, wheezing for breath. “I’m fine!” he coughs, grasping at his chest as he retches, his forehead slick with sweat. “I said I’m fine!”

A heartrending wail erupts from the harbor as Killian races toward us.

He collapses in front of me, hauling Orella out of my arms and clutching her to his chest. “No, no, no!” he cries, letting out another furious sob, and the gilded seashell pendant swings from his neck as he strokes her withered face. “Why, my love? Why?”

Gabriel kneels by my side, his hand on my leg, stitching the wound fiber by fiber. Even as I feel the gash begin to heal, even as I feel my strength restored, I know there are parts of me his magic cannot piece together again.

I look up at the Pearl as a few bloodletters use their affinity to siphon streams of water from the sea, extinguishing the fire. Our home—destroyed.

Why?

I stare down at my hands, covered in blood. This was because of me—because I ran from Will in the Burning Lands, and again in Hellion.

Will never actually planned to take the Elysian Navigator. Not unless I came along with it.

No. This was about showing me that no matter what I do, no matter where I go, he will always be there. That if he can kill Jack—someone he once cared for like a brother—then there are no limits to what he’s willing to do to persuade me to give up on my quest to defeat Morana. That it doesn’t matter if I find the Relics; it will be all too easy for Will to swoop in and take them—just as he did with the Elysian Navigator—and kill every last person I’ve ever loved as punishment for denying him.

He’s giving me a choice.

Join him and save everyone or refuse him and lose everything.

Soon, you’ll come to see that I’m the only one who will ever really love you—all of you.

My head spins, my vision blurred as I survey the commotion on the beach. I spot Margaret, swiping tears from her cheeks even as she helps Eliza tend to the wounded. Lewis, Charlie, Albert, and Rook lift a piece of debris from a trapped man near what was the west wing of the Pearl. Diana holds tightly to a boy—her brother, I realize—even as he appears to protest, calling her Nana. Liv and Sylvie hover near Killian, as if ready to offer comfort but giving him space to mourn.

Mother speaks with a few captains of crews I recognize from my short time here on the island, no doubt preparing for the possibility that Will might return sooner rather than later.

Elsie’s cat, Rooster, nudges my leg, drawing my attention to where Father kneels, retrieving Orella’s crown from where it fell in the sand a few inches from Killian.

“Aster,” Father starts, turning toward me, but I shake my head.

“No.” I barely recognize the sound of my own voice. “I’m not the firstborn. I’m not even the secondborn. It should be Owen. It should be—”

“Aster,” Father says again, softer this time. His eyes are puffy, rimmed with red from crying, but still so, so kind. “Orella named you heir.”

I should have known this would happen. It’s customary, within pirate clans, to elect a new captain even in the midst of battle, should the previous leader fall. Of course, it would be no different here—queen or captain, not a minute should pass before the successor takes their predecessor’s place.

I scramble to my feet, ignoring Gabriel’s protests, and stagger backward toward the shoreline. Titus is there in an instant, his hand on my arm, his grip gentle but firm, as if ready to catch me should I fall.

And I feel like I’m falling.

When I look over Father’s shoulder, the people have begun to gather, along with my siblings. I find their solemn faces, dispersed among the crowd—Charlie, Margaret, Lewis, Albert.

Owen is the first to kneel.

“But I—” I sway as my siblings drop to one knee, followed by the citizens of the Red Island gathered on the beach. I realize that in the silence I am expected to say something. To do something.

But I’m frozen. Paralyzed. Rooted to the spot.

“I can’t,” I say fiercely.