Cursebreaker

Book 3: Nightweaver

by R. M. Gray

Genres: YA Action & Adventure; YA Dark Fantasy

Synopsis

Embark on the thrilling, romantic, and swashbuckling finale to the New York Times bestselling Nightweaver series that’s perfect for fans of Powerless and Heartless Hunter.

At last, pirate Aster Oberon is setting sail—but danger is on the horizon. Armed with her crew of family and friends, Aster is pursuing the evil queen Morana in order to save the world as she knows it. Her heart is desperately torn between Will and Titus, but she’ll have to put her feelings aside to destroy the Underling army once and for all.
 
Unfortunately, Aster isn’t the only one hunting. Morana is seeking three mythical treasures: a helm that reveals the entrance to Elysia, a key to unlock the gates, and a sword to vanquish the creature within. If Morana is successful in her search, she could destroy the barrier between the heavens and their realm. Now, Aster must race to find the relics first, if she has any hope of bringing peace to the Known World.
 
But some things would rather stay hidden. When the discovery of the treasures comes at a devastating price, Aster must push past her deepest fears and step into her true power, or else risk dooming the world to darkness.

Fearsome sea creatures, heartbreaking betrayals, and desperate desire fill this exhilarating new installment of the Nightweaver series and the finale to Aster’s journey.

Read the entire Nightweaver series: 
Nightweaver
Starchaser
Cursebreaker

Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

Print pages: 480

Sample

I’m too late.

I hold my breath, my fist clenched around the hilt of my cutlass, as my brother, Lewis, moves about the ship like a phantom, extinguishing lanterns. Fire dances on the surface of the pitch-black water, and though the fog makes it almost impossible to see, I note the roll of the waves—swift, and isolated, and all wrong.

Faster, Lew, I think, but I don’t say it aloud.

I gasp when the Starchaser jostles, and I think I hear someone curse.

“Quiet!” Charlie hisses from close by, and the panic in my elder brother’s voice roils my stomach.

It’s been only two days since we set sail from the Red Island in search of Morana, and though Orella must have given secret orders to her fleet not to intercept us, I knew when we embarked on this journey that no one could protect us from the Myths that call the Dire home. Myths—monsters—hundreds of feet long that slither past our ship, attracted to the light of our lanterns and the sound of our voices.

By the time I feel the shift in the water, I’m already too late. It only takes one look at Lewis and my older brother knows something is wrong. The crew, taking their supper abovedeck, goes silent as Lewis moves swiftly about the ship, his years as the Lightbringer’s spymaster giving him the unique ability to act quickly and quietly.

In the seventeen years I called the Dire home, my family never encountered a serpent—one of the deadly, malevolent Myths of the Western Sea. But Mother and Father had trained us for this very moment: drilling us on how fast we could put out the lanterns; how silent we could become; how long we could hold our breath and wait for the threat to pass.

My siblings and friends made me their captain. They trust me to lead us safely out of the Dire as we make our way to the Burning Lands, and already I deliver us up on a platter to a creature that can swallow the Starchaser whole.

You don’t know what it takes to lead. I hear Mother’s voice in my head, each word like a death knell, booming in rhythm with the thump of the serpent’s body against the ship, nearly causing me to lose my footing.

I take a deep breath as the last lantern is snuffed out, plunging us into total darkness, and wait.

And wait.

The fog, enshrouding our ship like night incarnate, seems to speak to me, whispering.…

A chill snakes down my spine. I move forward blindly, as if prompted by the fog, the creak of the weathered boards now drowned out by the thundering of blood in my ears. Ahead, a light flickers in the distance, growing brighter with every step. It appears to take the form of a ship. And there—a man, standing on its bow.

Has Morana’s general, the Shifter who cursed me as a child, found me again? Has he come to take me from my family—from Will?

The light flickers—dies out. But I can’t shake the creeping, unnerving feeling I’m being watched; hunted, not only by a serpent but by a man who declares I belong to him—that my life is his to claim. A man who threatened my family. A man with whom I’d almost willingly left Castle Grim, even if it meant I would turn into a Shifter, because I thought it could save my brothers.

A few feet away, two red eyes burn like embers in the dense fog.

Jump, a voice in the back of my mind seems to say—a whisper unlike that of the sea but familiar to me still. I want you, Aster. Not your family.

I take another step, the deck slick underfoot.

Come with me, purrs the dark, gritty voice, and save them all.

I reach the railing of the ship.

Jump, the voice says.

As if compelled, I grab hold of the nearby rigging, pulling myself up and—

A hand seizes my shoulder. I whirl, cutlass drawn, my blade flashing.

The dark figure tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Easy, pirate.”

Buttery-orange light dances over Henry’s face, and his throat bobs as he flicks a glance at the blade pressed to his neck.

“You know, if you didn’t like my cooking, you could have just said so.” His eyes glint with mischief, but his voice is quiet, gentle, as if he were attempting to calm a wild animal.

I glance over my shoulder at the fog, now illuminated with lantern light, before looking past Henry to where the crew gathers near the center of the deck once more, resuming their supper as if we hadn’t been under threat just seconds ago. My sister Margaret and the Castor’s stable boy, Jack, huddle close together, while Lewis whispers something in Lady Eliza Cooper’s ear and she giggles, swatting him playfully on the arm. Charlie sits atop a barrel, watching our brother flirt with the dark-haired elf, shaking his head even as a grin tugs at his lips.

Safe. They’re all safe.

My fist loosens as I lower my cutlass.

Henry’s brow furrows, his expression somewhat strained. “You’ve been standing here for over half an hour,” he says, as if sensing my confusion. “You said, ‘It’s gone,’ but you wanted to be left alone. I just worried—”

“Right.” I nod, even though I don’t remember saying anything of the sort. All I remember is the serpent, and the darkness, and that voice.… “Nothing to worry about. Go,” I tell him, sheathing my cutlass. “Enjoy your supper. I’m sure it’s… edible.”

He grins, but I note the dark circles under his eyes. “I’ll save you some.”

I clap Henry on the shoulder, stepping past him. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

I move swiftly toward the companionway, heading belowdecks, praying to the Stars my siblings don’t watch me go—praying they don’t see my hands tremble as I shove them into my pockets.

You don’t know what it takes to lead. How would my siblings feel if they knew I was hearing voices? What would they think if I told them one of those voices had suggested I jump overboard, and I was almost unable to stop myself from obeying its command?

My fingers brush the cool metal of the compass. It seems to hum at my touch, and as I withdraw the small golden disc from my pocket, I think, for just a moment, it appears to glow.

I halt halfway down the companionway, my thumb tracing the rough grooves where my father engraved the words There is still time to chase another star. A frown tugs at my lips as I flick open the lid, squinting at the fixed needle pointing west—toward the entrance to Morana’s kingdom in the Burning Lands, toward the only cure for Will’s and my curse. At the prospect of Mother discovering I absconded with the compass, a ship, and a crew, setting off to track down Morana without the Order’s help—despite her lies, her lack of faith in me—satisfaction floods my chest. But the thought of Father learning about our departure deflates any sense of pride I feel.

I glance at the timepiece, opposite the compass dial, my heart beating faster with every tick of the clock. As difficult as it was to leave Father behind so soon after reuniting with him, I knew I couldn’t wait for the Order to act. Somewhere, Titus is still compelled by Morana—Owen is still bound to her service. Every day wasted is another day they’re forced to do unspeakable things in the name of the Underling queen. They don’t have the luxury of waiting to be rescued—not when Titus’s stepmother, Calantha, can torture him freely now, harvesting his blood to amplify her power.

And then there’s Will. We’ll need his knowledge of the border that separates the kingdom of Hellion from Morana’s stronghold in the Burning Lands. He’s the only one of us who’s spent time fighting on the front lines—he’ll know how to sneak past the League of Seven’s troops and navigate the treacherous wasteland that lies beyond the barricades. From there, the enchantment the Order placed on the compass is supposed to lead us to Morana.

Only, the compass won’t do us much good if Will turns before we reach the Burning Lands. He might not have turned fully into a Shifter on Holy Winter’s Day, but the transformation has begun, and he’s running out of time. Unless I find Morana and obtain a drop of her blood to cure him, he’ll be victim to the Shifter curse, and we’ll have lost the only person who can successfully guide us past the barricades.

The Underling general could have taken me at any moment while I resided at Castle Grim—he could have used his influence over his venom pumping through my veins to force me to go with him. Now that the enchantment around my heart is broken, I fear I have no choice but to obey him. Still, for whatever reason—perhaps the same reason as Morana—he needs me willing. By journeying to the Burning Lands, am I giving him exactly what he wants?

I want you, Aster, the voice said. Not your family. I can’t crew the Starchaser by myself, but I’ve put my siblings and friends at risk by allowing them to join me.

Come with me and save them all.

I snap the compass shut and slip it into my pocket as I descend the steps that lead to the brig, my heart heavy.

In the guttering lantern light, Gabriel leans against a wooden post, one ankle crossed over the other, peeling an orange. It’s still difficult, getting used to seeing the Bloodknight without his helmet, especially when he looks so much like Flynn, his late twin—olive skin, hazel eyes, tousled dark hair. If I hadn’t witnessed Flynn’s death with my own eyes, I might think I’m looking at a ghost. But when Gabriel glances up at me through dark lashes as I descend the last few steps, his expression taciturn, it’s as if I feel his steady, calm presence, and the tension in my shoulders eases, if only a little.

The Cooper siblings had been framed—because of me, Will had taken Flynn’s life, believing him to be the Underling general who haunted me. Yet Eliza and Gabriel still chose to join me—to make me their captain. I’m not sure what I did to earn their loyalty, but I’m determined to honor it.

“How is he?” I whisper, afraid to step past Gabriel and see for myself.

Gabriel scowls and jerks his head to the right, in the direction of the steel bars that separate us from the small cell where Will has chosen to reside. “He’s refusing to eat.”

I grit my teeth, peering around Gabriel’s broad form.

Will slumps against a barrel, looking worse than he had even a few hours ago. The sickly pallor of his nearly translucent skin reveals the network of veins pumping inky black blood through his body. His chest rattles with every ragged breath, his eyes shut tight, sweat beading on his pale face.

I kneel in front of the bars, my stomach twisting at the sight of the Elysian chains that secure his hands—chains he insisted on wearing for the duration of our journey. “Will?” I say softly.

He startles, his eyes flinging wide. The painful, pulsing lesions that had spread from the green-and-black wound in his side seem less inflamed than before, but he still winces as he shifts to back himself against the wall, putting as much distance between us as possible.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he grits out, his jaw clenched.

I note the fear in his eyes, his gaunt cheeks, and my mouth goes dry. “You keep saying that.”

His lips twitch, the hint of a smirk, even as he presses himself close to the wall. “You keep ignoring me.”

I arch a brow at him. “Gabriel says you’re not eating.”

“Gabriel should mind his own business.”

Gabriel grunts.

Will wheezes a laugh, which turns into a cough. I watch as he doubles over, struggling to catch his breath. But when I move as if to grab hold of the iron door, Gabriel takes a step forward, reaching for my arm, and Will holds out a hand to halt us both.

“I’m—fine,” Will says, his body trembling violently.

I look over my shoulder at Gabriel, hovering nearby, his neutral expression giving nothing away even as he balls his hand into a fist at his side. He lifts his shoulder, as if to say, I can’t let you put yourself in harm’s way, and I cock my head at him as if to say, Like you could have stopped me.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, vibrating through the ship as I turn back to face Will, kneeling once more. “You have to eat,” I tell him, jerking my chin at the untouched bowl of stew Henry prepared.

He settles back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest. “I’ve tried,” he says, his voice hoarse. He licks his chapped lips, and when he glances at me, his gaze lands on the side of my neck. “It… doesn’t taste right.”

“Henry will be crushed.”

Another small smile. His head rolls to the side as he turns to look at me fully, his eyes glinting with amusement and… something else. Something dark—something hungry. His gaze roves from my lips to my neck, trailing down my long sapphire coat.

“That’s new,” he murmurs.

My heart skips a beat. He didn’t comment on the coat, embellished with silver and gold thread, the night I came to tell him I planned to go to the Burning Lands without the Order’s blessing, and I haven’t worn it since.

“It was a gift,” I say quietly.

Will nods slowly, his grin almost teasing. “From Titus.”

My cheeks flush, and guilt gnaws at my chest. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” he says, his expression suddenly serious. “You’re beautiful.”

I look down, running a hand over the soft blue fabric. “Will?” I ask, my voice hushed, with Gabriel standing only a few feet away. “What Titus said, in the dungeons…”

Will shakes his head, his mouth pressed in a tight line. “I’m sorry, Aster,” he says with a shaky exhale, and ice-cold dread floods my veins. “I don’t remember anything from that night. If I tried to”—his teeth clench—“to hurt you, in any way—”

“No,” I say quickly, my blood warming at his admission. It’s taken me two days to work up the courage to ask him about what Titus said—that Will knew Titus had feelings for me before Will ever took my family and me captive. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t blame you—I mean, your curse—” I take a deep breath, try again. “It’s just that, Titus said something about… me—er, well, you—us.”

Will’s brows knit and he rises, leaning heavily on the barrel for support. “He’s not himself right now,” he says gently. “I’m sure whatever he said, he never would have done so if it weren’t for the compulsion.”

I stand, too, smoothing my hands over my coat. I try to swallow around the knot that chokes my voice even as I force a smile and say, “You’re probably right.” I clear my throat, attempting to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking on what my mother said about the power of the Lightbringer—how the True King gave Hildegarde dominion over all creation.”

He nods slowly. “The full power of the Lightbringer—both halves. You told me yourself that your father never accessed a single affinity, much less all four.”

“Right,” I say. “But what if it’s not just the full power of the Lightbringer? What if, because of my Nightweaver blood, I could tap into all four affinities? You could show me how to use bonewielding—”

“Aster,” he says softly, his eyes crinkling with a frown. “You’re still struggling to access your abilities as a bloodletter. It might not be wise to open those pathways if you’re still unable to control your”—his throat bobs—“ cravings.”

Something in my chest deflates. He’s right—I know he’s right. But it doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing to hear him give voice to the doubts that keep me awake all through the night—the fear that I’ll never master my abilities as a bloodletter, let alone a bonewielder, a firebreather, or a windwalker.

If I can’t control my affinity for water, how will I ever hope to control the power of the Lightbringer?

“Of course,” I say, my voice thick. “I don’t know what I was thinking.…”

I turn to leave, but Will lurches forward a step as the ship rocks, closing the distance between us. The chains pull taut as Will grabs my wrist. I feel Gabriel shift behind me, and metal scrapes metal as he withdraws his sword, if only slightly.

“Wait—don’t—” Will whispers, his voice rough, his eyes wide, pleading. “Don’t go. Please, I just…” He grinds his teeth, his grip tightening—desperate, painful. “I need…”

“What?” I whisper back, my heart racing as I subtly attempt to pull free from his grasp, but to no avail. “What do you need?”

A flash of red light as his gaze dips to my throat.

He licks his lips, voice dark and gritty and deeper than its usual timbre when he growls, “I need…”

Blood, I realize, a second too late. Out of the corner of my eye, Gabriel appears, his sword raised, prepared to break Will’s hold on me by whatever means necessary. But he never gets the chance.

One moment Will leans in, his teeth bared, and the next, I’m thrown onto my back, my ears ringing.

I scramble upright, blinking, attempting to control my breathing even as my pulse pounds in my eardrums. The serpent—has it returned?

Above, muffled shouts give me pause. Before I’ve even made it to my feet, another explosion sends me careening forward, and my head collides with the iron bars of Will’s cell.

Not a serpent.

Cannons.

Gabriel hauls me to my feet, giving my shoulders a shake. “We’re under attack!”

Instantly, I’m transported to the day the Nightweavers attacked our family’s ship. The day the Lightbringer sank.

I watch Gabriel charging up the steps, but all I see is Owen.

I wasn’t fast enough to save my brother. To save our home. To save my family from captivity.

I won’t make the same mistakes again.

I quickly check that Will, slumped against the wall of his cell, is still breathing. It’s better that he’s unconscious. I know it’s only because of his curse that he tried to bite me, but if he were to break out of his cell in the state he’s in, we’d have more problems to deal with than whoever has launched an assault on our ship.

Satisfied that Will is safe—for now—I race after Gabriel.

When I emerge onto the deck, the tang of gunpowder coats my tongue.

Ten seconds. That’s all the time I get to survey my surroundings. To try to make some sense of the black flag, marked with the scarlet sun of the Eerie, illuminated by a crack of lightning cutting through the pitch-black fog.

Nine. The royal Nightweaver ship—the Mythslayer—packed with Bloodknights and human prisoners, the latter chained to the deck, soaked by the downpour of rain.

Eight. Cannons blast, tearing two holes in the starboard side of our ship.

Seven. Bloodknights storming over the gangplank and onto the Starchaser.

Six. My siblings, their weapons drawn, shouting at one another over the sound of the third cannon blast.

Five. Shards of wood slice my hands, tiny splinters needling into my palms, but I plant my feet.

Four. Henry steels himself at my side, flames engulfing his outstretched hands.

Three. I draw a cutlass from a sheath at either hip, the warm metal buzzing at my touch.

Two. Twenty feet from me, a tall, menacing figure stands before the prisoners on the main deck of the Mythslayer, his eyes glowing gold, his blond hair shaved close to his scalp. A king without his crown, he looks every bit the wicked villain of legend—his black cloak, trimmed with scarlet thread, his bare, tattooed hand outstretched, as the first human’s face shrivels and they collapse, their blood pulled from their body in a gruesome cloud of crimson.

One. Titus smirks, his gaze meeting mine as he forms a bloodred blade and points it at the throat of his youngest prisoner, the sight of her braided blond pigtails and tear-streaked face nearly knocking me off my feet.

My youngest sister.

Elsie.

I barely avoid the first strike of a Bloodknight’s broadsword, unwilling to pull my gaze from Elsie until the last second. His blade slices my cheek as I dodge his blow, ripping my flesh. Pain cleaves across my face, but the sting is like a jolt of electricity to my veins, sharpening my focus. When he strikes again, I roll, back on my feet in an instant, fists clenched around the hilts of my cutlasses.

Elsie is all I can think as I cross my blades, my teeth vibrating from the impact of the Bloodknight’s assault. Elsie, I say her name with every furious beat of my heart, shoving against the Bloodknight’s weapon with such force that he stumbles backward a few steps.

My little sister should be safe on the Red Island. How is she here, now? Has Titus found the island after all?

I attempt to scan the deck, but the dense fog of the Dire enshrouds the Mythslayer, obscuring Elsie from view.

Titus knows I’ll come for her. He knows I won’t abandon my youngest sibling—knows I’ll trade my life for hers without hesitation.

I twist, slicing a smooth arc across the sliver of exposed skin at the knight’s throat. Blood sprays my face as the knight falls to his knees, and power hums in my chest, my hands.

Again, a quiet voice whispers. And then, louder, More.

Three Bloodknights encircle me, and my hands tremble but not from fear. I shake my shoulders, grit my teeth, and send a silent prayer to the Stars for forgiveness.

The Bloodknights attack in tandem, and I match them strike for strike. Their weapons are heavier than mine—my shoulders cry out in agony with every deflected blow—but so is their armor, impeding their movements. Still, it’s three against one, meaning I must work twice as hard just to keep from losing a limb—or my head.

Quickly, little mouse, I imagine Owen would say if he were here, laughing as he always did when we were up against impossible odds. You don’t have to be the strongest, but you must always be the fastest.

I might never be strong enough, or fast enough, or even skilled enough to defeat my foes in battle. But by threatening Elsie, Titus has ensured that I am angry enough. And a part of me believes that the Titus who truly knows me, through and through, is still somewhere inside him, fighting. And as rage clouds my vision, I don’t resist it. I surrender to the fury that compels me, guiding my hand with some divine wrath. Again, the voice cries as I evade the Bloodknights’ attacks. More, it commands with every punishing arc of my blade.

Another splash of blood. More.

Another thud as a body drops to the deck, dead at my feet. Again.

Metal coats my tongue, spurring me on, and in the crimson sheen of a Bloodknight’s helmet, the gilded light of my irises blaze with holy light.

More. Again. More. Again.

I kick, and a Bloodknight’s body slides from my blade, convulsing as blood gushes from his open throat onto the deck.

For a moment, the voice relents, and the only sound I hear is my own breath, the pressure in my head almost unbearable as I squint through the fog.

Nearby, Charlie and Margaret fight back-to-back, swords drawn, their every movement in sync. Above, Jack aims a rifle at the Bloodknights as they continue to pour onto our ship, sending down bullets from the crow’s nest, and I catch only a glimpse of Lewis cutting across the deck, illuminated in flashes of orange light as Henry hurls orbs of fire at the oncoming soldiers.

BOOM.

The Starchaser trembles but not from impact. A cannonball rips through the Mythslayer’s hull, and I know Eliza has made her way to our cannons.

I can’t be sure if my crew knows Titus now holds Elsie captive, but I must assume that since my siblings haven’t charged the Mythslayer—since Eliza is actively trying to sink the enemy ship—that I must be the only one to have seen our little sister. I start forward, toward where I know Titus waits, when I’m knocked sideways, tackled by a Bloodknight.

The force of the fall sends my cutlasses flying, and I barely have a moment to process what’s happened before a bloodred gauntlet collides with my cheek.

Again. And again.

The earlier wound from the blade splits wide open. My face goes numb, absorbing the barrage of blows, my vision spinning.

And I laugh.

The sound, choked from the blood filling my mouth, must shock the Bloodknight as much as it surprises me, and I use their hesitation to my advantage. Think, Father used to tell me when my siblings and I would wrestle aboard the Lightbringer, practicing hand-to-hand combat. Use your head.

So I do.

I jerk forward, my forehead colliding with the Bloodknight’s helmet. They fall backward, and I scramble on top of them, ripping the helmet from their head, prepared to launch my own assault, but the soldier’s familiar face gives me pause.

“Please,” she begs, eyes wide, blood pouring from her nose. “Stop—it’s me!”

I recognize the human, her blond hair matted in clumps. Diana, the girl whose life had been traded for my rescue the night we faked Captain Shade’s death. I look up at the Bloodknights swarming the Starchaser—some are humans, I realize with a pang of terror. And not just any humans—members of the Starchaser’s crew who didn’t make it out of Castle Grim while the rest of us escaped, now compelled to do the Eerie’s bidding as Bloodknights.

Diana struggles under my hold, but her arms, pinned beneath my knees, don’t seem to labor of her own accord, the twitching movements haphazard, like a puppet on a string.

More, whispers the voice. More blood. More death. More power.

I draw my fist back, and Diana closes her eyes, even as her body continues to fight.

All it takes is a single, precise blow to her temple, and Diana’s body goes slack—unconscious but alive.

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.?