Page 125 of Cursebreaker

Henry.

“What if I make the wrong choice?” I ask, and my voice sounds faraway now, like the distant crash of waves lapping at the shore.

“You very well may,” she says. “But you must choose. And choose again. So long as your heart beats, you can always make a different choice. There is still time to chase another star.”

Hildegarde holds out her hand. There, nestled in her starlit palm, is a gilded skeletal key.

The final Relic.

“Choose.”

The ground trembles underfoot. Every choice I have made has led me here—to this place, to this moment. I could stay—I could be with Owen for eternity. I could be safe. Free. No more war. No more suffering. No more pain. I could lay down my grief now and forevermore.

“It hurts,” I tell her, and the words catch in my throat.

“It always does,” she says, touching my cheek, her fingertips as cool and soft as silk. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

Real.

My heart leaps. Titus.

I’m not ready to let go of his hand. I’m not ready to leave my siblings behind. I’m not ready to give up.

I am Aster Oberon. Daughter. Sister. Friend.

I am not afraid, and I will never surrender.

“I’m ready,” I say, and both the flowers and the Stars bow as the world spins faster, my vision fading, the lights twinkling out one by one.

My hand closes around the final Relic of Night, and the darkness swallows me whole.

Pressure, like the weight of a thousand anchors, threatens to crush me flat. My stomach roils, my heart slamming against my rib cage.

“Breathe, Aster.” I feel his presence, hovering somewhere close. Too close. “Breathe for me.”

I gasp. My head spins, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The air here tastes like bitter smoke and burnt flesh. But the scent of roses and damp earth envelops me, warm and familiar and infuriating.

I lurch upright, my head nearly colliding with his. He shifts backward, but I’m too fast, drawing the wicked-looking knife from the sheath at his hip and using my momentum to pin him to the obsidian altar.

I press the blade to his throat, looking down at him—at his green eyes. This isn’t the face of a monster. But it isn’t the face of a boy, either.

“I knew it,” Will murmurs, his grin revealing the dimple in his cheek. He seizes my wrists, flipping me onto my back. His dark, breathy chuckle tickles my ear as he bends down, whispering, “You really don’t give up, do you?”

I clench my teeth, my knee colliding with his stomach. His grip loosens, just enough that I break free of his hold. I lash out, slicing above his brow.

Scarlet spills down his face, staining his teeth as he laughs, his hands on either side of my head, caging me in. “Are you happy to see me, my darling?”

I point the tip of my dagger at his throat. His blood drips onto my cheeks, my lips. He could take control of my hands; he could force me to drop the dagger with only a thought.

But he doesn’t. He just stares down at me, his head tilted, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Stop looking at me like that!” I hiss.

A crooked grin. “Like what?”

I push forward, my blade piercing his skin before he finally relents, sitting back on his heels. My legs tremble as I get to my feet, but Will remains kneeling, my dagger pointed at his throat.

My pulse throbs at my temples. I take my eyes off him for only a second—long enough to see that we’re alone here, atop the obsidian altar.