Page 23 of Cursebreaker

“No!” Eliza shouts through gritted teeth. And softer she says, her voice strained, “I can do this.”

Lewis’s mouth presses into a tight line. Then he nods, sheathing his dagger and motioning for Gabriel to move aside so that he can take his place, holding Eliza’s arms high.

As Gabriel steps back, he glances at me, and I can see it in his face, too—he knows we have little time before Eliza’s magic fails her. We’ll have made it through the fleet, only to be caught before we can truly escape.

I can order Eliza to feed from my brother—putting his life in jeopardy, if Eliza were to lose herself to bloodlust—or risk being spotted by Hellion’s naval forces.

Sweat slicks my brow. I don’t like the idea of taking Eliza’s choice from her. If she doesn’t want to feed on Lewis’s blood, I shouldn’t force her.

But Eliza wails, her teeth gnashing, her knees buckling, and I know we’re out of time.

I open my mouth, but before I can give the order, there’s a strong gust of wind that catches the Starchaser’s sails, and as if out of thin air, a cloud of fog appears, enshrouding our ship as we hurtle toward the coast at an unnatural speed.

Just then, Eliza collapses, and Lewis catches her in his arms.

“Goodness, Mr. Oberon,” Eliza pants, her voice hoarse. “It appears you’ve swept me off my feet.”

“Any excuse to hold you in my arms,” Lewis croons, pushing damp strands of dark hair out of Eliza’s face.

Gabriel scowls, and before I know it, I’m laughing.

Concealed by weather-defying fog, hastened by a preternatural wind. It reminds me of the stories I used to hear of sorcery used by pirates to evade capture and outrun their enemies—pirates I now know were actually Nightweavers. But this should be impossible—there are no windwalkers on our ship. And yet, as we near the shore, and I steer us south, in the direction of the abandoned estate where Gabriel claims we’ll be safe to disembark, I thank the Stars for this gift—no matter how mysterious.

“Someone must be looking out for us,” Jack says from behind me, lifting his gaze skyward.

I laugh even as tears stream down my cheeks. “I suppose so.”

Jack pats me gently on the shoulder. “You got us through the worst of it. Why don’t you let someone else take it from here?”

My hands are numb as I unclench my fists, prying my sticky fingers from the helm one at a time. Still, I hesitate. “Maybe in a minute,” I say.

Jack looks as though he wants to argue, but he just nods. “Aye, Captain.”

He stands by my side, watching through the fog as we begin to follow the shoreline south, and after a few minutes, I track his gaze above the cloud of mist where a small, dark form circles the mainmast of our ship.

I squint, and my stomach plummets when I make out the shape of the raven’s black wings.

Owen.

He’s here.

Even as I smooth out the note on the desk before me in the captain’s quarters, still cluttered with Titus’s things—half-empty wells of ink; a torn, tea-stained map of the Cutthroat Coast; a spyglass; a lantern; a sextant; a tiny wood carving of a dragon; a few tarnished coins; a gold earring; and a small blue velvet box are among the disarray—I’m careful not to disturb his chaos, all untouched since the day Will, Titus, and I made plans to find Morana at Castle Grim.

A breeze drifts in through the open window, fluttering the parchment, but I snatch the velvet box and use it to weigh down the corner before the note is swept away.

I read the note over and over again, until the red ink seems to run down the paper like blood. As the sun begins to set, washing the contents of the desk in warm, golden light, my gaze drifts constantly to the velvet box.

A few times, I reach for it. Curl my fingers. Drop my hand. I can’t—I won’t—invade Titus’s privacy. These are his treasures—his life. And though I want nothing more than to peek inside every drawer, every chest, every little box, I can’t bring myself to do it. If, once Titus is free of the compulsion, he wants to share his secrets with me, I want him to have the choice. If he chooses not to let me into his world, then I’ll accept his decision without protest.

A knock at the door jars me out of my thoughts, and I quickly stuff the note into my pocket before Gabriel enters, his taciturn expression unreadable.

“We’re close,” he says, dipping his head to me. “Aster—” He pauses, his gaze sweeping the room, and I get the distinct impression he’s memorizing it—taking it all in, as if this were the last time he was ever going to see it.

I realize, with a pang in my chest, that we might not all return to the Starchaser.

“Yes?”

He scratches his jaw, flicking a glance at the velvet box before his eyes narrow on me. “We don’t need him,” he says. “It would be safer for everyone if Will remained in that brig.”