Chapter Three
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.”
“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—”
“I am free!” He grinds his jaw, his playful composure slipping. “Free to kill as I please and not have to hide it, or feel ashamed of who I am, or be forced to keep my true feelings a secret.”
He throws the last few words at me, his voice choked, and I see it—see him, fighting to tell me something that flickers in his eyes, fiery and urgent.
“You’re right,” I say slowly, closing the distance between us. I sheathe one dagger at my left hip and lift my hand as if to cup his jaw. “You shouldn’t have to hide who you are.”
His chest heaves as he stares at me—at my sapphire coat—a crease forming between his brow, transfixed. He reaches for me, as if to touch the embroidered fabric, the movement hesitant, accidental.
“And neither should she.”
I take one smooth step to the right, out of Titus’s grasp, and thrust my dagger into Elsie’s chest.