Page 47 of Cursebreaker

Gabriel refuses a bowl from Annie with a quiet and polite, “No, thank you.”

Margaret scoffs. “What?” She points her spoon accusingly at Gabriel. “Are you just going to starve?”

Henry’s shoulders tense, his eyes flashing, his back still turned to Margaret.

Gabriel scowls, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I’m not hungry.”

Margaret’s lips pinch. “Eat,” she says slowly, “the damn”—she doesn’t break his stare—“stew.”

Gabriel’s jaw clenches. Reluctantly, he holds out his hand, taking a bowl from Annie, and Henry quickly dishes out the stew.

Henry serves Eliza before briefly meeting my gaze.

“Henry,” I say quietly, but he shakes his head, his chin quivering. He moves on to Diana, leaving Rook’s bowl in her care—she winks at me as she spoons half of Rook’s portion into her own bowl—until there’s only two bowls left.

Owen has just stepped down onto the main deck when Annie throws her arms around him, weeping.

Owen goes rigid. Henry nearly drops the pot of stew.

“Annie—” Henry starts, but Owen holds up his hand.

“It’s quite all right,” he says, patting Annie on the head. He kneels then, and Annie clings to his neck. If it weren’t for Annie’s dark curls, I would think he were embracing Elsie.

I look skyward, blinking tears from my eyes.

“Thank you,” Henry says, his voice rough. “For bringing her home.”

Owen inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment before drawing back, his hands on Annie’s shoulders.

“We’re never going back there,” he says, holding her gaze. Calm. Steady. “We’re safe now, all right?”

Annie’s chin wobbles. She nods.

Owen smiles as he accepts a bowl from her. “Have you been helping your brother in the galley?”

Annie sniffs. She nods again.

“You know,” he says, cutting a glance at me, “my little sister used to help me in the galley, too.”

The ghost of a grin touches Annie’s lips. “Really?”

Owen’s smile broadens. “Really.”

He stands, and as Henry dishes out the stew, Owen implores him to meet his soft, sincere gaze. I don’t hear what Owen says, but I read his lips.

“She can’t lose you both.”

Henry slumps, but he nods, wiping tears with the dishcloth draped over his shoulders. Owen claps him on the arm.

“I appreciate your patience,” Owen says as he approaches our small group. “You have no reason to trust me, and frankly, I don’t have much cause to trust some of you, either.”

I don’t touch my spoon, my stomach twisting into knots. The music from Rook’s violin dies with a whine.

“But Aster trusts you.” He surveys the deck, meeting each member of the Starchaser’s crew with a measured look. “And I trust my sister.”

A silent, steely determination sweeps through the crew. I can feel their eyes on me, but I don’t break Owen’s stare.

“If you have any questions,” Owen says, addressing the group, even as he holds my gaze, “now’s the time to ask.”