Page 22 of Cursebreaker

I eye the thin sliver of open water, my heart in my throat, and send a silent prayer to the Stars.

My grip slides on the helm as I readjust my hold, my palms slick, but I set my feet. Roll my shoulders. Take another deep breath.

I think of Mother, standing at the helm. As a child, I’d stand on a wooden stool, grab hold of the spokes, and Mother would place her hands over mine. When you hold this helm, she would say to me, you hold your family’s lives in your hands. They trust you to lead them. To guide them safely through all manner of trials and storms.

Today, it’s as if I feel Mother place her hands over mine.

I will guide us safely through, or I will die trying.

We approach the final two ships, positioned like unholy guardians on either side of the path, and there’s a soft shlink of metal as Gabriel sheaths his swords. He pivots slightly, holding Eliza’s quivering arms high.

Beside me, Lewis appears perfectly still, but he stares at Eliza with rapt focus, and I know, with absolute certainty, that if her magic fails, and the fleet launches an attack, Lewis will be at her side in less time than it takes to blink. It’s clear he restrains himself only because he doesn’t want to distract her.

But it doesn’t matter.

By the time we reach the narrow gap, and I realize our ship is too wide to squeeze through, it’s too late to change course. All I can do is squeeze the helm as the Starchaser bumps the starboard side of the vessel to our right.

A few soldiers glance in our direction, and my blood pounds in my eardrums. But they appear to look right through us, squinting and fanning themselves with their caps. Thankfully, they seem to think the heat has something to do with the phantom thud, and the soldiers quickly lose interest, returning to their duties.

Except one.

He lumbers over to the taffrail, his rifle perched carelessly on his shoulder, and peers at the water below. His gaze lifts slowly, narrowed at the space where Charlie stands aboard the Starchaser, eye level with the soldier. He’s close enough to reach out and touch the man, his pistol aimed directly at the soldier’s forehead.

Seconds stretch into eternities.

The soldier purses his lips. Charlie’s brow furrows.

I hold my breath.

Wood scrapes wood as I manage to keep steady, pulling off their hull and guiding us forward, through the sliver between vessels. The man looks down again, studying the water as he begins to lower his rifle, pointing it in Charlie’s direction.…

“Oy, Jim, would you look at that!” another soldier calls to him from near the helm. “That’s lucky, isn’t it?”

Jim—the soldier who stands nearest Charlie—cups his hand over his brow and peers at the sky, in the direction his comrade now points.

“It’s one for sorrow, you idiot,” Jim shouts, rolling his eyes. “And that’s a bloody raven, not a crow.”

His comrade cocks his head. “What’s the difference?”

Jim groans. “Well, to start, ravens tend to be a bit bigger than crows,” he says, turning his back to Charlie, his voice trailing off as he lumbers toward the steps to the helm.

I exhale, the pressure in my head deflating as we emerge from between the two ships, free at last from the confines of the fleet. But not free of their watchful eyes.

“How long do you think she can keep this up?” Lewis asks me, his jaw wound tight.

I wince, noting the way Eliza’s entire body shakes. “Not long.”

I glance over my shoulder as we continue to put more distance between us and the fleet, but we’re at least a few miles out from the shore. If the soldiers were to see our ship suddenly appear, even this far from the fleet—even with the speed of the Starchaser—we can’t evade their cannons.

Lewis nods. “My blood,” he whispers half to himself. “It could make her stronger, right?”

“Lewis—” I start, but he’s already crossing the deck with long, purposeful strides.

I can’t hear their hushed conversation, but Eliza shakes her head as Lewis pleads with her, drawing a dagger from his belt and pointing at his wrist.

Gabriel stares at me over his shoulder with a look that begs, Do all Oberons have a death wish?

I shrug, as if to say, We’re born with it.