Chapter Fifteen
The second, third, and fourth times are even worse than the first; the terrible sensation of falling grows more intense, each leap compounding on the one before.
Landscapes whir past, never fully forming.
Train tracks. A town square. The abandoned manor near the coast of Hellion.
When we finally reach the Starchaser, not even Owen’s grip on my arm is enough to keep me on my feet.
I plummet toward the deck, gasping for air, feeling as if every bone in my body had been rearranged.
I brace my hands on the wood, the feel of the weathered boards beneath my palms the only thing that can convince me this is real—that minutes ago, I was standing in Morana’s throne room, and now I’m here.
Birds chirping. Sun shining. The song of the sea like a lullaby as it rocks the ship ever so gently.
Henry helps me to my feet, his face blurry around the edges, and when he says something to me, it sounds like he’s speaking from deep underwater. Still, there’s no mistaking the concern in his eyes as he examines the cut above my brows.
I know the moment he spots Annie—note the confusion at war with the relief in his expression at seeing her in Owen’s arms, but realizing that Will is not with our party—because something shifts, and suddenly I’m the one holding him up.
He moves past me, taking Annie from Owen, who looks two seconds away from collapse.
The moment Henry has Annie in his arms, sobbing and clutching her to his chest, Owen staggers a few steps to the left, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
Charlie and Lewis grab either arm, and though I hear only bits and pieces of chatter over the ringing in my ears, I see Margaret and Jack appear, my sister barking orders at my brothers as she checks Owen’s face.
Owen laughs, throwing his arms around Margaret, and if this were any normal day aboard the Lightbringer, I would have thought he had too much to drink.
He stumbles like he’s intoxicated, but his grip on the bloody dagger never falters.
The dagger. The blood.
I can still taste Morana’s blood—blood that cures the Shifter’s curse.
Blood that frees Owen from Morana’s service, that enables him to live among his family again, no longer compelled to drink human blood to survive.
Blood that severs the connection between me and the Shifter whose venom had pumped through my veins just minutes ago.
Will’s venom.
Will was the Shifter who bit me as a child.
The Changeling who attacked me at the train station.
The exiled general. All this time, he was using me, just not for the reasons I previously thought.
Everything—even his proposal, I realize—was to persuade me to go willingly to the Burning Lands with him.
Freeing Annie. Curing his curse. All of it a lie.
A means to win favor with Morana by bringing me to her.
She took a portion of the Lightbringer power. I felt it leave me.
He did this. Will did this.
I stagger back a step, bumping into someone’s chest. Large hands grip my arms, steadying me enough that I’m able to turn and see Gabriel towering over me.
He frowns—there’s a flicker of disappointment in his gaze as he searches my face—but then he pulls me into a hug I didn’t realize I needed until his arms are around me and I’m sobbing in earnest. I hear it then—my own cries, Gabriel’s gentle, comforting murmurs that ensure I am safe, and alive, and that all this is real.
Real. Real. Real.
“Aster?” comes Owen’s broken voice. “Aster!”
I turn, starting toward him. Charlie and Lewis hold him upright, and Margaret turns her attention to me then, fussing over the cut in my forehead, but I understand, instantly, why Owen has called for me.
Before I’ve even reached him, he extends the dagger, still wet with blood.
I take it, turning swiftly on my heels and before I know it, I’m racing down the companionway, deep into the belly of the ship.
I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of Titus’s cell, the dagger dripping blood onto the wooden planks.
One drop. All he needs is one drop, and he’ll be free of Morana’s compulsion.
He sits propped against a barrel at the back of his cell, but when he sees me, he’s on his feet in seconds, his face pressed against the iron bars as if he could somehow fit through them and reach me.
But not for the reasons I would hope. No, it seems his compelled hatred for me has festered in my absence, and when he snaps his teeth, I realize how sick he looks—starved, as if he hadn’t had a bite of food to eat in days, his lips chapped despite the sheen of sweat on his forehead.
I recognize the wild look in his eyes—the hunger.
Bloodlust.
“Here,” I say softly, extending the bloody end of the blade in his direction. “If you drink this—”
He shrinks away from the bars, glaring at the dagger. His lip curls in disgust, and he chuckles darkly. “Did you think it would be that easy?”
I had hoped so, yes.
“Please,” I urge, taking a step closer to the cell. I’m within arm’s reach if he wanted to grab hold of my wrist, but he won’t come anywhere near me. Not with the dagger in my hand.
“I can’t,” he grits out, and I catch a glimpse of Titus—my Titus—before the wicked glint returns to his eyes, and he smirks.
“Those who have been compelled cannot drink Morana’s blood directly.
However”—he prowls toward me, grabbing my arm before I can pull away—“if I were to drink from someone who had Morana’s blood in their veins… ”
“Do it,” I say.
My lack of hesitation appears to shock him, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
His fingers grip my arm, painfully tight.
“You’re sure about that, love?” he whispers, his lips brushing my skin as he lifts my wrist to his mouth.
His eyes glow golden, his voice deeper than it was a moment ago, rich and thick, like honey.
“I won’t be able to stop, Aster. Would you really risk your life to save mine? ”
I clench my jaw, my pulse pounding in my throat, but I know my answer. “I’m sure,” I say, stepping closer, until our faces are separated only by the iron bars between us. I search his eyes, his face. The moment I was free of Will’s compulsion, I knew one thing for certain.
“I trust you,” I say, holding his gaze.
He blinks as if stunned. Glances at my wrist. Inhales sharply through his nose.
The pain is swift. He sinks his teeth into my wrist, and the dagger clatters to the floor of his cell.
At first, he appears to be fighting the impulse to rip into my veins and feed, his gaze locked onto mine, as if attempting to gauge my reaction.
But I feel the moment his control slips.
My blood gushes past his lips, dripping from his chin, and he closes his eyes.
He grunts, pulling on my arm so fiercely I fear he’ll tear it from my body.
“Titus!”
He doesn’t hear me. Or doesn’t care.
My head feels light, my vision tilting. He’ll stop, I think. He has to stop.
Footsteps pound somewhere far away. Gabriel appears, shouting at me, but I can’t understand him. My eyelids flutter. I’m so tired, I think I might fall asleep. Yes—that sounds nice. Titus is here. He’s safe. I’ve freed him of his compulsion. He’s free. I can rest now.
I think I might say something. Three words, spoken softly, felt deeply.
And then the world goes dark.