Page 3 of Cursebreaker

Gabriel grunts.

Will wheezes a laugh, which turns into a cough. I watch as he doubles over, struggling to catch his breath. But when I move as if to grab hold of the iron door, Gabriel takes a step forward, reaching for my arm, and Will holds out a hand to halt us both.

“I’m—fine,” Will says, his body trembling violently.

I look over my shoulder at Gabriel, hovering nearby, his neutral expression giving nothing away even as he balls his hand into a fist at his side. He lifts his shoulder, as if to say, I can’t let you put yourself in harm’s way, and I cock my head at him as if to say, Like you could have stopped me.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, vibrating through the ship as I turn back to face Will, kneeling once more. “You have to eat,” I tell him, jerking my chin at the untouched bowl of stew Henry prepared.

He settles back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. “I’ve tried,” he says, his voice hoarse. He licks his chapped lips, and when he glances at me, his gaze lands on the side of my neck. “It… doesn’t taste right.”

“Henry will be crushed.”

Another small smile. His head rolls to the side as he turns to look at me fully, his eyes glinting with amusement and… something else. Something dark—something hungry. His gaze roves from my lips to my neck, trailing down my long sapphire coat.

“That’s new,” he murmurs.

My heart skips a beat. He didn’t comment on the coat, embellished with silver and gold thread, the night I came to tell him I planned to go to the Burning Lands without the Order’s blessing, and I haven’t worn it since.

“It was a gift,” I say quietly.

Will nods slowly, his grin almost teasing. “From Titus.”

My cheeks flush, and guilt gnaws at my chest. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” he says, his expression suddenly serious. “You’re beautiful.”

I look down, running a hand over the soft blue fabric. “Will?” I ask, my voice hushed, with Gabriel standing only a few feet away. “What Titus said, in the dungeons…”

Will shakes his head, his mouth pressed in a tight line. “I’m sorry, Aster,” he says with a shaky exhale, and ice-cold dread floods my veins. “I don’t remember anything from that night. If I tried to”—his teeth clench—“to hurt you, in any way—”

“No,” I say quickly, my blood warming at his admission. It’s taken me two days to work up the courage to ask him about what Titus said—that Will knew Titus had feelings for me before Will ever took my family and me captive. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t blame you—I mean, your curse—” I take a deep breath, try again. “It’s just that, Titus said something about… me—er, well, you—us.”

Will’s brows knit and he rises, leaning heavily on the barrel for support. “He’s not himself right now,” he says gently. “I’m sure whatever he said, he never would have done so if it weren’t for the compulsion.”

I stand, too, smoothing my hands over my coat. I try to swallow around the knot that chokes my voice even as I force a smile and say, “You’re probably right.” I clear my throat, attempting to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking on what my mother said about the power of the Lightbringer—how the True King gave Hildegarde dominion over all creation.”

He nods slowly. “The full power of the Lightbringer—both halves. You told me yourself that your father never accessed a single affinity, much less all four.”

“Right,” I say. “But what if it’s not just the full power of the Lightbringer? What if, because of my Nightweaver blood, I could tap into all four affinities? You could show me how to use bonewielding—”

“Aster,” he says softly, his eyes crinkling with a frown. “You’re still struggling to access your abilities as a bloodletter. It might not be wise to open those pathways if you’re still unable to control your”—his throat bobs—“ cravings.”

Something in my chest deflates. He’s right—I know he’s right. But it doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing to hear him give voice to the doubts that keep me awake all through the night—the fear that I’ll never master my abilities as a bloodletter, let alone a bonewielder, a firebreather, or a windwalker.

If I can’t control my affinity for water, how will I ever hope to control the power of the Lightbringer?

“Of course,” I say, my voice thick. “I don’t know what I was thinking.…”

I turn to leave, but Will lurches forward a step as the ship rocks, closing the distance between us. The chains pull taut as Will grabs my wrist. I feel Gabriel shift behind me, and metal scrapes metal as he withdraws his sword, if only slightly.

“Wait—don’t—” Will whispers, his voice rough, his eyes wide, pleading. “Don’t go. Please, I just…” He grinds his teeth, his grip tightening—desperate, painful. “I need…”

“What?” I whisper back, my heart racing as I subtly attempt to pull free from his grasp, but to no avail. “What do you need?”

A flash of red light as his gaze dips to my throat.

He licks his lips, voice dark and gritty and deeper than its usual timbre when he growls, “I need…”