Page 6 of Cursebreaker

I look up to see Charlie staring at me, his eyes narrowed with concern. Shame floods through me, washing away the remnants of the frenzied bloodlust, but it’s too late. He saw me, covered in blood, laughing, and I know, in this moment, I must look no different from an Underling. That voice—the one that cries out for more…

When will the blood of my enemies no longer be enough to satiate that need for violence? If my siblings realize I’m struggling… then what? Will they lock me in the brig alongside Will? Should I let them?

Charlie looks away, distracted by an advancing Bloodknight, and my stomach twists. We all have blood on our hands, but does he think I’ve gone too far?

Have I gone too far?

I’ve just made it to my feet when a scream rises over the din of battle. I follow the bleating cry to the Mythslayer, where I find Titus’s golden eyes cutting through the mist with their eerie glow.

“Aster Oberon!” Titus’s voice is rough. Ragged. The voice of the Reaper. It cuts through me, as cruel as any blade, and I feel the phantom twist of a knife in my heart.

I draw my daggers and step over Diana’s body, making my way to the gangplank that connects our two ships, but someone seizes my arm. I whirl, my dagger raised, expecting a fight, and instead find Gabriel staring down at me, blood coating his face.

“Don’t even think about it,” he nearly growls. “It’s a trap. If you surrender, we’re all dead.”

“I’ve broken Titus’s compulsion before!” I argue, throwing off his grip. All around us, my siblings fight with the ferocity of warriors twice their age. But the soldiers outnumber us fifty to seven. It’s not a matter of skill—my siblings have faced greater odds and emerged victorious. It’s a matter of stamina. And the long months on land have left them weaker. Slower. “If I can just get close enough to do it again, he can call off the attack.”

Gabriel clenches his jaw, shakes his head. “You can’t be sure.”

“No,” I say, backing away, “but it’s worth the risk.”

Titus must know I’ve made my choice, because the Bloodknights part for me as I cross the gangplank, as if given the order to let me come aboard the Mythslayer without a fight.

I hop down, landing with a thud on the main deck about fifteen feet from Titus, his scarlet blade hovering near my little sister’s throat. I’ve seen Elsie cry only a few times—even when she was a baby, she hardly ever shed a tear. Now her body trembles with sobs, her eyes red and puffy and pleading.

I force myself to look away—to meet Titus’s gaze, attempting to appear unaffected. “You called?”

He smirks, the expression broken and cruel.

A chill snakes down my spine. He’s still him, I remind myself. He might be compelled, but I know Titus—I’ve known him longer than I can even remember. I can break the compulsion—if only long enough to turn the tides of the battle.

“And here I thought we were having so much fun together.” He runs his tongue over his teeth. Shrugs. “You look ill. Getting enough sleep, love?”

“Plenty,” I say coolly, twirling my dagger. “I have over twenty pairs of pajamas, after all.”

Something sparks in his gaze, his lip twitching. “I’ve heard.”

“Nice hair.”

“You like it?”

“It suits you.”

He points a finger at me, tsks. “You’re flirting with me.” He smiles, the dark circles around his eyes stark against his pale skin. “William must not be around, then?”

I tighten my grip on the hilt of my dagger, but somehow, I maintain a neutral expression. “Let her go, Titus,” I say, my voice soft, level. “You don’t want to hurt her.”

“And how, exactly, do you know that?” He cocks his head, eyes narrowing. “After everything you’ve seen, you can’t really be that naive, can you? All that killing—it changes a person. You know that better than anyone, hm?”

I must flinch, because his smile grows, mocking.

“You and I have more in common than you care to admit.” He uses the tip of his bloodred blade to lift one of Elsie’s pigtails, staining it crimson. “Because I know you, Aster. I know you secretly crave the thrill of battle. You love to watch as your enemies bleed at your feet.”

“The enemy!” I take a step toward him—toward Elsie. “Not innocent people.”

“Oh?” His brows lift. “All those poor, starving pirates you cut down before you even turned seventeen? Were they not innocent?”

“They attacked us!” I shout, taking another step. I cut a glance at Elsie, try to communicate without words that when I give the signal, she’ll need to run, but she shakes her head as more tears stream down her cheeks. “I did what I had to do to protect my family—to survive. So did you. If you hadn’t been forced to become the Reaper—if you were free—”