Page 56 of Cursebreaker

“Ready the cannons!” comes Gabriel’s voice from out of the mist.

As the others move into position, I find myself looking for Owen. I might not know what it takes to lead, but he’s only been free from Morana a few days, and already, he’s better with the crew than I am. Will he think I’ve made the right decision?

A bitter taste coats my mouth. Here I am, asking my crew to trust me, and I don’t even trust myself.

“Cannons at the ready, Captain!” Gabriel stands at the bottom of the steps. Calm. Collected.

I avoid his gaze. What if he sees the panic in my eyes? What if he knows I’m making a mistake? I’ve already failed them all before. What if this time, it costs them their lives?

“They’re getting closer,” Lewis calls out.

“Hold!” I say, my legs shaking.

“I see someone.…” Lewis adjusts the spyglass.

“The flag?” My voice is sharp. “Can you see the flag?”

“Captain?” Gabriel calls up.

“Hold!” My stomach twists. I squint at the dark shape as it approaches, the silhouette of a ship emerging from the fog. “Hold…”

“I can’t—” Lewis curses. “It’s hard to tell.…”

“Captain?” Fear leaks into Gabriel’s voice.

“Ready,” I say, my throat tight. “Aim…”

Gabriel echoes my commands. It’s as if I feel the crew take a collective breath—hold it. I send a prayer to the Stars.

“Fi—”

“Wait!” Lewis shouts. “I see the flag!”

My heart slams against my rib cage.

“It’s ours!” Lewis sounds as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “The flag—it’s ours. And—” He laughs, passing me the spyglass. “You’re not going to believe who’s with them!”

I almost drop the spyglass, my hands trembling as I lift it to my eye and peer through the smudged glass.

Standing at the starboard railing is Killian, dressed in a three-piece suit, waving a white handkerchief. And there, at the helm, her yellow brocade coat flapping in the wind…

Grace Oberon, the fiercest captain the Western Sea has ever known.

My mother.

My siblings linger near the gangplank as it’s deployed, bridging the gap between the Starchaser and the Moondancer. Except for Owen and me. We hang back, near the helm, watching as the others prepare to be boarded.

Owen’s pulse jumps at his throat. He wipes his palms on his shirt. “I’m not ready,” he says, his voice strained. “I can’t—not like this—”

I take his hand, giving it a squeeze. “They’ll be happy to see you.”

He shakes his head, his nose scrunched. For so long, I looked up to Owen—the oldest. The bravest. The most fearless. I think I forgot how young he is. And still, I don’t know the extent of what he endured in service to Morana. What he’s seen. The things he’s been forced to do. Who he’s been forced to become.

But he’s still my brother. And I forgive him. We all do.

I let go of his hand and start down the companionway. “Coming?” I turn to look at him over my shoulder, but he’s no longer standing there. Instead, in his place, is a tiny brown mouse.

I can’t help but grin as the mouse scurries toward me, tugging on the hem of my pant leg. “You little sneak,” I say, scooping him up in my palms and letting him crawl into my coat pocket. All this time—the mouse I saw that night in my room at Bludgrave Manor, the mouse that distracted Calantha’s atroxis back at Castle Grim—it was Owen. Watching over me. Protecting me, even if I didn’t know it at the time.