Page 113 of Cursebreaker

Owen, Lewis, and Eliza flank us.

“What now?” Lewis asks.

I jerk my head in the direction of the entrance, and Owen, Lewis, and Eliza follow Titus and me as we splash through pools of blood toward the main foyer. We race through the castle halls, up stairwells, passing mutilated corpses every step of the way.

I’m panting for breath by the time we burst through the door to my chambers, the stench of death roiling my stomach.

It appears as if my chamber is the only room untouched by Will’s bloodshed.

I don’t hesitate to push the blue rug aside, and Titus is already kneeling, his hand pressed to the stone floor, whispering the words, “Adonoc verash melor.”

The instant the passage opens, Titus leads the charge, practically throwing himself down the steps.

Titus’s pace falters, his gaze fixed on the narrow crack in the wall from which we escaped the night of his wedding. He lingers at the edge of the water, hand on the hilt of his sword, as if he expected Calantha to slither through the gap like the snake she was and drag him back to the dungeons.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up straight.

I turn to face Titus, but I’m too late.

Will stands in front of him, his twisted obsidian blade lodged in Titus’s left shoulder.

I try to move, but Will’s power holds us all at bay. Even Titus.

It was a trick. Will had lulled us into a false sense of victory. But it was all a lie.

I should have known. I should have seen this coming.

Why, after everything he’s done, did I ever think the monster that wears Will Castor’s skin could be trusted?

“And here I would have thought you’d stab me in the back,” Titus says through gritted teeth, his body trembling as he attempts to fight Will’s grip on his bones.

Will cocks his head, smiles. “I’d rather see the look on your face when you realize you’ve lost.”

He withdraws the blade, crackling with green energy, and lifts his hands as if to surrender. He turns, facing me, amusement glittering in his gaze. “I can cure him,” he says. “You need only surrender to Morana. Bring the Relics of Night to the Burning Lands, and I will save his life.”

Hot, angry tears spill onto my cheeks. “I don’t have the other Relics!”

Will quirks a brow. “No?” He shrugs. “Then you’d better find them. And fast. Titus doesn’t have much time. I’d say a week at most.”

My voice is raw, my entire being vibrating with rage. “How would I even make it to the Burning Lands in that amount of time?”

Will grins, his expression aloof. “I’m sure you can figure something out,” he croons. His eyes darken, his deep voice booming like thunder. “Bring me what I’ve asked, and I will ensure your fiancé lives.”

A flash of purple light and Will is gone, releasing us from his grip.

But I see the bat—see him—flying out of the mouth of the cave. My focus narrows on his form as he makes his way across the water. It’s as if a veil had been lifted, revealing the Deathwail.

Our fleets have already relocated to the harbor, giving Will’s ship a clear path to escape.

Giving Will a clear path of escape.

But I won’t let him go this time.

It’s that singular thought that drives me. All around me, the water seems to pulse, beating in tandem with my heart.

And it is both love and rage that hums in my skull, in my bones, in my blood as I grab hold of my magic—as I draw from the Manan in the waves. As I give myself over to the power aching in my chest, begging for release.

I think I hear Titus’s voice.