Page 85 of Cursebreaker

“That wasn’t so bad!” Owen laughs, dragging his hands over his face.

Titus cracks a smile—barely. “Speak for yourself.”

“Personally,” Rook says, “I never want to do that ever again.”

The sapphire light illuminates Titus’s face as he turns to me and flicks a glance at my hand, clutched to my chest. His gaze narrows on the blood that drips down my wrist, my arm.

“Here,” he says softly, tearing a strip of fabric from the bottom of his shirt. He takes my hand, his touch gentle as he bandages the cut. And then, slowly, he lifts my hand to his mouth, his gaze never leaving mine as his lips brush my knuckles.

Rook lets out a low whistle and Diana smacks him over the back of his head.

“I seriously regret coming on this excursion,” Lewis mutters under his breath.

Titus smirks as he drops my hand. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, stained red from my blood, his golden eyes glowing.…

Owen shifts, his dagger in hand.

But while the gold subsides, Titus’s blue eyes seem to reflect the sapphire glow, still radiating light from within. The storm outside quiets, and for a moment, it feels as if we were the only two people in this boat.

“I thought you didn’t trust yourself,” I whisper, breathless. “What changed?”

He reaches out, pushing wet strands of hair from my face, his gaze fixed on mine. “I realized the thing I’m most afraid of isn’t losing control,” he says. “It’s losing you.”

Rook pretends to wipe tears from his eyes, Diana lets out a quiet, wistful sigh, and Lewis makes a gagging noise.

“Sorry to interrupt this lovely… interaction,” Owen drawls, his feet propped on the side of the boat. He points ahead, taking inventory of his nails as he extends his fingers. “But I’d like to take this opportunity to say, I told you so.”

My breath catches.

“Maker of All,” Diana murmurs.

“Is that—” Lewis starts.

“The legendary lost Tidesinger?” Rook says, shaking his head. “No, it’s probably just another legendary lost ship, hidden away in this enormous cave, where no one has ever been able to find it.”

Diana flicks Rook on the ear as we emerge from the tunnel into a spacious cavern. There, beached on a rocky bank, the ancient shipwreck looks as if it had run ashore here only yesterday. Silver moonlight streams in from the gaping ceiling—no storm obscures the stars above, the wing of Ugo the Dragon pointing down, toward the mainmast of the ship, and the flag, perfectly preserved, still fluttering in the gentle breeze.

“Do you think it stopped raining?” Rook asks.

Diana shakes her head. “It’s some sort of illusion.”

“I feel it, too,” Owen says, rolling his shoulders. “It’s like a ward but… thicker.”

Rook gives a curt nod. “Perfect.”

The jolly boat scrapes the bank, and Lewis hops out, pulling us ashore. We’ve only just set foot on solid ground when a low, eerie whistling comes from the direction of the tunnel.

“Well, well,” comes a voice that chills my blood. “Look what we have here.”

Diana whirls, blades already in hand, and Lewis’s eyes narrow on the tunnel, cold and calculating.

Calmly, Owen retrieves a pouch from inside his coat, emptying shards of broken glass into his palm. “We were followed.”

Rook squints at the glass, his brow quirked as he realizes what I’ve already figured out; Owen means to use his windwalker affinity to launch the shattered pieces as projectiles. “Ah, I think I get it now.”

“Owen,” I ask, my hands resting on the hilts of the cutlasses strapped to either hip. “This ward… can you form a vortex?”

He shakes his head. “Only way is through that tunnel,” he says. A small, mischievous smirk curls his lips. “Unfortunately, we’re going to have to fight our way out.”