Page 42 of Cursebreaker

“Careful,” Margaret murmurs, swiping the cloth over my forehead. Her soft smile doesn’t reach her swollen, bloodshot eyes.

My head pounds, my mouth painfully dry. “Marge—” I start, but emotion clogs my throat, and the word ends on a whimper.

A tear falls from Margaret’s jaw as she sets the cloth aside and retrieves a glass of water from my bedside. She brings it to my lips, gently propping my head with her other hand.

I gulp down water, but it feels as if I’m swallowing glass.

“Where—” I cough, my voice raw. “Where’s Owen?”

Margaret sniffs, nodding slowly as she lifts the glass again, urging me to take another drink. “He’s unconscious. Eliza thinks the toll of what he did to get the three of you back here overwhelmed him, but…” She half-laughs, half-cries. “She says he’s going to be all right. Charlie and Lewis have been taking turns keeping an eye on him in the bunkhouse.”

“Annie?”

Margaret frowns, lowering the glass. “She hasn’t spoken a word. Eliza’s with her now.”

My heart aches. “Where are we?”

“South, near Tyton,” she says, reaching for the cloth once more, but before she grabs hold of it, her sleeve bunches, revealing a blistering wound on her forearm.

I sit up, nearly knocking the glass out of her hands, and she quickly pulls her sleeve down, her expression pinched, eyes glassy with something akin to shame as she cradles her arm close to her chest.

“What happened?” I ask as she gets to her feet, turning her back to me to face the open window. “How did you make it back to the Starchaser?”

Margaret bows her head, shakes it. “When Gabriel woke up, bound by those chains… Henry stood over him, flames kindling in his palms. He looked as if he were about to—to light Gabriel on fire. I screamed at Henry to stop, and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were… glazed.” She glances at me over her shoulder, her gaze suddenly hard. “He was on top of me so fast, I didn’t have time to reach for my sword. He was compelled, I know, but I knew it was either him or me, so I… I hit him over the head with a rock. I thought he was dead, at first.” Another tear slips onto her cheek. “Gabriel healed his wounds, but he couldn’t heal me. He doesn’t know why, he just… couldn’t. We waited, to see if you would come back. But after a day—”

“A day?” My stomach turns to water. “How long was I gone?”

Margaret’s frown deepens. “Gabriel says he might have manipulated your sense of time.” I don’t miss the way she doesn’t say his name, the quiver of her chin, or the way she clenches her fists. She moves toward me again, perching near the foot of my bed. Hesitates. “You were gone for three days.”

I reach for the pot beside my bed, feeling like I’m going to be sick, but Margaret is already there, holding it close to my face. My heaves turn to sobs, and then Margaret’s arms are around me, clutching me tight.

After a little while, Margaret pulls back, searching my gaze. “He’s really gone, then?” she asks, her voice quiet, reluctant.

It’s as if I’d been spinning and spinning and I can’t seem to stop. “It was him all along. It was Will,” I tell her. “It was always Will.”

She brushes a tear from my face, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “When I saw what he’d done to Gabriel—when I saw that you were gone…” Her face crumples, and she casts her eyes skyward, blinking away tears. “Henry was in and out of consciousness on the train back to the Starchaser, but he kept saying things like… like ‘Please, don’t make me.’” Her throat bobs with a swallow, and she looks away, her mouth pressed in a tight line. “He finally woke a few hours after we reached the Starchaser, with no memory of what had happened, only that Will had compelled him to burn us all. That Will had revealed to him who he was—what he planned to do with you. We didn’t want to listen at first, but when you appeared and Will wasn’t with you… I just can’t believe it. No one can.”

I don’t know what to say. “Is Henry…”

“Gabriel gave him a drop of Morana’s blood,” she says, “just to be sure he was free of any compulsion. He’s in the galley now, if you want to see him. I think… I think it might be good for him if the two of you talked.”

I nod, forcing a small, pitiful smile. “You’re probably right,” I say. I know everyone will want to hear my side of the story. I know I should talk to Henry about what happened with Will. But… I can barely wrap my own head around his betrayal. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to anyone.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.

“Knock knock,” comes Jack’s whisper from the doorway as it creaks open, a sliver of light widening over the weathered floorboards. “Is she decent?”

“Depends on who you ask,” I say, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Margaret must have washed the blood and soot from my body, changing my clothes from the torn, charred ensemble in which I returned to a pair of loose, flowing trousers and a linen shirt. Before I can get to my feet, she kneels, helping me into a pair of sturdy boots.

“Wait,” she says, lacing them up. “Wait…”

The moment the second loop is secured, Jack lifts me into the air, squeezing me tight.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking. “All this time, I never—”

“I know,” I say, hugging him close. “I know.”

He draws back, gripping my shoulders. “You did it, Aster.” A slight grin tugs at his lips, his eyes lit with awe. “You’re the first person in six hundred years to draw blood from Morana—well, Owen was, but… don’t let Will take that from you. We should be… we should be celebrating.”