Page 129 of Cursebreaker

Ours.

The Starchaser buzzes with activity as the others prepare to fight.

Titus stands by my side in the crow’s nest, a spyglass pressed to his left eye. “He’s there,” he says. “Standing in front of the Pearl.” His throat bobs. “What’s left of it.”

He passes the spyglass to me, and I peer through the eyepiece.

There, at Morana’s side, Will wears a suit of obsidian armor from the neck down, a black cloak draped over his shoulders.

I lower the spyglass. “This has to be part of his game,” I say, my voice quiet. “Right?”

Titus’s jaw ticks. “I don’t know,” he tells me. “He’s always been a secretive bastard. I never know what he’s thinking.”

“He used to say the same thing about you.”

I think Titus’s lips twitch, the ghost of a smile. “I’m sure he did.”

He turns to me, his gaze narrowing on the Helm. It’s surprisingly light—almost weightless. I thought when I put it on, I would feel some sort of power. But all I feel is this raw, twisted grief. We wouldn’t have this Helm if it weren’t for Elsie.

Now I can only hope that whatever waits for us on the other side of the gates will help us find a way to bring her back.

I check the Sword, fastened at my hip, and the Key, safe in the pocket of my coat. I can’t be sure what the gates look like, but Father suspects they’re somewhere near the volcano at the center of the Red Island, Samael.

“Together?” Titus asks.

“Together,” I say.

Emrys dips low, and I climb onto the railing of the crow’s nest. Titus’s hand darts out, fingers skimming my calf, ready to balance me if needed, and the brush of his fingertips leave a trail of electricity in their wake.

I climb up Emrys’s wing, onto his back, and Titus follows. He wraps his arms around my waist as I grab hold of Emrys’s spiked horns.

Something unspoken passes between Emrys and me, and a moment later, he surges forward, soaring higher, breaking through the clouds.

Up here, the sky is as blue as Titus’s eyes—as blue as my beloved ocean—and I can almost pretend we’re alone. That we might never have to return to the earth below. Titus’s arms are safe. The world is beautiful. I am free.

And I think I finally understand why Owen always wished to be a bird.

But a high-pitched shriek of laughter chills my blood, and I come crashing back down to reality.

Six Stalkers rise above the clouds, gaining on us with every heartbeat.

Titus draws a Howler strapped to his back. His other arm wraps around my waist like a band of steel.

Emrys roars, flames sparking out of his massive jaws, but the Stalkers aren’t deterred. We dip below the clouds, descending rapidly, aiming straight for Samael.

“Can you see it?” Titus shouts over the howl of the wind.

I squint at the shape of the volcano. The Helm should show me where the gates are, but—“No, I need to get closer!”

Emrys responds, diving toward the volcano. I look down at the Red Island below—at the jungle, ravaged by flames—and my heart sticks in my throat.

“Whatever you do, keep going,” Titus says, his breath warm on the back of my neck.

My stomach turns to water. “What?”

But he’s already letting go, withdrawing his arm from around my waist as he shifts in his seat, drawing a second Howler from his back. Each shot he fires at the Stalkers echoes in my chest. The Elysian bullets don’t seem to have any effect on them. They shriek—giggle. Swoop closer.

Tentacles brush my arm, coiling around my shoulder, before Titus drops one of his Howlers and draws a dagger, slicing through the Stalker’s limb.