Stormbreak Read online

  PRAISE FOR

  SEAFIRE

  “One of the most spellbinding adventures of the year. This is female piracy at its best.”

  —SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE

  “This is Mad Max by way of Davy Jones, a high-energy, breathless adventure.”

  —BOOKLIST

  “The pace of the book is fast and relentless, and the action sequences tense and believable, but the best moments are the ones in which the female relationships shine.”

  —NPR

  “A brilliant story that shows the strength and bravery of girls against the world. Natalie C. Parker has given me a book I wish I’d had when I was younger.”

  —ZORAIDA CÓRDOVA, award-winning author of the BROOKLYN BRUJAS series

  “A stunning and powerful book about choosing to fight in the face of vicious odds. Seafire will stay with you long after you finish reading.”

  —BRENDAN REICHS, New York Times bestselling author of NEMESIS

  “Absolutely enthralling. Seafire is a relentless adventure about friendship and found family, trust and betrayal, and a vow for vengeance as unstoppable as the sea.”

  —HEIDI HEILIG, author of THE GIRL FROM EVERYWHERE and THE SHIP BEYOND TIME

  “Parker has crafted a thrilling, empowering tale of doing what is right, not what is easy. Any reader who’s dreamed of the high seas, adventure, and freedom will be clamoring to join the crew of the Mors Navis. An emotional and pulse-pounding read.”

  —TESS SHARPE, author of FAR FROM YOU and BARBED WIRE HEART

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

  Produced by Alloy Entertainment

  30 Hudson Yards, 22nd floor

  New York, NY 10001

  First published in the United States of America by Razorbill, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2021

  Copyright © 2021 by Alloy Entertainment and Natalie C. Parker

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  Razorbill & colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Parker, Natalie C., author.

  Title: Stormbreak / Natalie C. Parker.

  Description: New York : Razorbill, 2020. | Series: Seafire; [book 3] | Audience: Ages 12+. |

  Summary: “In this epic conclusion to the Seafire trilogy, ... Caledonia Styx will risk everything—her heart, her crew, and even her life to defeat Lir and take back the Bullet Seas once and for all”—Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020031152 | ISBN 9780451478863 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780451478870 (ebook)

  Subjects: CYAC: Ship captains—Fiction. | Sex role—Fiction. | Seafaring life—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. Classification: LCC PZ7.P2275 Sto 2020 | DDC [Fic]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020031152

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  pid_prh_5.6.1_c0_r0

  This one’s for my dad,

  always and forever my first captain.

  Contents

  Cover

  Praise for Seafire

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Before

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Before

  The fire crawling through Lir’s veins had started hours ago and was only getting worse.

  In spite of the cool air piped throughout the ship, sweat itched along his brow and he barely resisted the urge to tap his feet as he joined the long line of Bullets heading into the galley. He’d never needed Silt this badly before. He’d never felt this insistent surging of his blood or this erratic knocking of his heart. But he’d missed his last two doses and the lag was beginning to take its toll.

  Lir ground his teeth at the sudden lightness in his head and turned to survey the Bullets lining up behind him until his eyes found the one he searched for: Tassos. The boy was barely a turn older than Lir, but his body told another story. He was broad where Lir was narrow, his muscles stacked like bricks where Lir’s were lean. Like Lir, he was pale as salt but for his dark eyes and twisted red hair, and he always seemed to be smiling at something. Right now, that something was Lir.

  Tassos stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes loosely locked on Lir, and a disdainful curl to his lips. He was surrounded by a small swarm of sycophants, every one of them too afraid of his capricious moods to risk standing anywhere but by his side. It was Lir’s recent refusal to similarly acquiesce that had landed him in the too-bright light of Tassos’s attentions.

  A sharp-jawed girl named Cepheus leaned up and, with her eyes on Lir, whispered something that made Tassos laugh. Lir glowered, turning away from the sight.

  Two doses. Tassos had stolen the previous two doses from Lir by getting ahead of him in line and swiping it from his tray before Lir had even managed to find a seat. It was insulting. Maddening. But the only thing worse than not having his dose of Silt would be admitting to Ballistic Ennick that he’d lost it. Twice. Asking for assistance wasn’t an option. This was a situation he’d have to deal with on his own.

  An unfamiliar weakness needled in his muscles and bones, and strength leached from his skin like sweat. But he would not give Tassos the pleasure of seeing him squirm. The rivalry between them was new. Until two days ago, Tassos had never spared a second glance for him. Then Lir made the mistake of taking down Cross in hand-to-hand exercises and suddenly the once-middling Lir of sixteen turns wasn’t so unobtrusive anymore. He was the one everyone wanted at their side.

  And Tassos, it seemed, had decided Lir was the one to drive into the ground.

  Clenching his fists against a sudden tremor, Lir steadied his breathing and tried to focus on the soothing simplicity of a gun. He ran through each piece, mentally dismantling his preferred sidearm before putting it back together again. At each step, he imagined the unmistakable slide of steel against steel, the sharp click as pins snapped home, the quiet groan as springs depressed. By the time he’d completed the process, the line had coiled into the galley and the smell of fresh bread made Lir’s stomach clench with anticipation. Soon, there was a tray in his hand and his plate was filled with seed brick smothered in gravy, seaweed salad, and that delicious fresh bread.

  His blood surged faster, and the fire burned in his veins as he followed the line to the end where Bullet Sanno handed out the evening ration of Silt. Sanno raised one thick eyebrow as Lir approached. It was warm in here, but not warm enough to warrant the beads of sweat sliding from Lir’s temples.

  “From Silt comes strength,” Lir said, and it took some effort to keep his voice steady.

  “The Father gives you Silt,” Sanno answered, the suspicion in his voice clear, but he handed over a single ration without question.

  Lir flicked his eyes quickly down the line as he turned away, spotting Tassos picking up his own tray at the end. Relief washed through Lir. The wait was nearly over. All he needed to do was stay calm, eat his meal, then take his Silt the same way every other Bullet did. After the meal.

  His mistake was keeping his eyes on Tassos. He knew that as soon as his shoulder collided with something hard. His tray tipped, the contents spilling to the floor with a clatter.

  Lir snapped to attention, instinctively raising his fists for a fight even as Cepheus backed away with an apologetic shrug. And a barely concealed mocking half grin.

  “Clean it up, Bullet,” the Galley Master called, voice rising above the sounds of snickering and chatter.

  Cold stole over Lir as he stooped to collect his tray, plate, glass, and cutlery. There was the mess of his food at his feet and nothing else. His Silt was gone. Behind him, Tassos emerged from the line, a knowing grin on his smug face.

  A small, distant part of Lir’s mind told him to ignore this. He would find another way to get Silt even if it meant another night going without. He was strong enough to survive until morning rations and he would rise before anyone else, be first in line, and take his Silt before Tassos ever stepped foot in the galley.

  Then Tassos smiled with his teeth and Lir’s mind went very, very still.

  Lir crossed the room in two swift strides, swinging his tray like a sword. Hot blood sprayed across one side of Lir’s face as the tray gouged a thick trail through Tassos’s cheek.

  Before Tassos could retaliate, Lir brought his fist down like a hammer, punishing the same mangled cheek with a second strike. Tassos stumbled, then recoiled, readying for the next attack, but before either of them could move again, a triple horn beat punctuated the air.

  The galley fell silent but for the rhythmic ticking of the old stove. In spite of the call to report topside, no one moved to respond.

  Lir and Tassos stood three feet apart, eyes locked in a new kind of rivalry. Dark red blood dripped steadily from the trench in Tassos’s cheek, staining the front of his shirt.

  Then Lir stepped forward and stooped low, catching up a single packet of Silt in his fingers and tucking it into his pocket. He blinked once, letting his gaze drift across the galley, then he turned his back on Tassos and aimed unhurried steps topside.

  Galley Master Harrow was reporting to Ballistic Ennick when Lir arrived on deck. The two men, both still in the full and bristling power of their youth, were cast in the orange glow of deck lights, the night sky flat black behind them. As Bullets filled the main deck in neat rows, those who hadn’t been in the galley shot nervous glances toward the Ballistic. Those who had been watched Lir with a confident kind of curiosity. Whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be happening to them.

  Lir planted his feet wide and waited.

  “Bullet Lir.” Ballistic Ennick’s voice was flat. “Step forward.”

  Lir had always viewed the man as a superior, someone so much closer to Aric’s right hand than he’d ever be, but something had changed in the galley. Lir had changed, and in a strange moment of clarity, he saw Ennick for what he was: a Ballistic too afraid of his own power to ever really own it.

  “You attacked a fellow Bullet in the galley,” Ballistic Ennick said. “Do you deny the charge?”

  Tassos stood in the corner of Lir’s vision. The blood on his cheek flared bright red in the deck lights, a single flame licking up his skin. With dark satisfaction, Lir realized that flame would bloom into an orange scar as it healed. He barely kept a smile from his lips as he answered, “I embrace the charge, sir.”

  A quiet disturbance breezed through the rest of the clip. His peers surely thought he’d lost his sail. Maybe he had. He’d never felt so certain, so defiant. Even the Ballistic seemed taken aback. He hesitated before speaking again.

  “You will soon embrace more than that.” Ballistic Ennick moved down the line of Bullets. “There is no greater display of weakness than turning on your brothers and sisters, no greater shame than striking your own. And we do not bring shame to the Father. What do we bring him?”

  “Glory or death!” the clip shouted in one voice.

  “Bullet Lir, have you brought glory to the Father today?”

  Lir swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “No.”

  “Would you bring him your death instead?”

  Lir’s conviction wavered under a knife of fear. They would not kill him for such a small infraction, but they would make him suffer for forgiveness. So that everyone knew exactly how little power he held. He had to make that power grow, or death would be his only option. Lir raised his chin. “I would not.”

  “We must have one or the other.” Ballistic Ennick paused theatrically and raised a hand to the moonless sky. “But now is the time of the Nascent Moon. A time for new beginnings. Would you have a new beginning, Bullet Lir?”

  “I would.” He could taste the sour shape of those words.

  “Then you will be cleansed by the sway of the pendulum.”

  Lir ground his teeth at the thought of being strung up by his ankles and dangled over the deck like a damn fish. It was a slow, painful way to die, but if he survived the night, he would be redeemed in the eyes of his Ballistic and his clip.

  “Prepare the pendulum! He hangs at midnight!” Ballistic Ennick called. The order dismissed the clip and to Lir he said, “With me.”

  Ennick turned on his heel and led Lir to the aft deck. The ship was anchored just west of one of the two largest islands of the Bone Mouth.

  “Go ashore,” Ennick said, thrusting a canvas sack into Lir’s bloodied hands. “We could use the fruit and you could use a minute to clear your salt-crusted head.”

  Below them, a small shore runner waited on the water. For a fleeting moment, Lir considered jumping ship and taking his chances away from the bountiful hands of the Father. Surely, Ballistic Ennick had to know he would be tempted.

  “What makes you so sure I’ll come back?” he asked.

  “You’re not the running type.” One side of Ennick’s mouth twitched in something more grim than a smile. “But don’t come back without something good.”

  Anger bloomed in the back of Lir’s throat. He was being manipulated, toyed with, and they both knew he had no choice but to obey. Planting one foot on the rail, he climbed down to the small boat below. He revved the engine and sped toward the pale strip of beach all while a furious storm blew through his mind.

  They didn’t need the food. That had been a lie. This errand was just a prelude to his pun ishment, forcing him to choose to return for it. It was a brutal kind of arrogance, so assured, so damned binding. Well, maybe Lir would surprise them all. Maybe he would walk to the end of this island and swim to the next, strike out on his own. What did he have to lose? His life? That was the only thing he possessed in the world and he would lose it eventually. At least if he left now, it would be on his own terms.

  He dragged the boat ashore and impatiently scrubbed the blood from his hands in the shallows. He shouldn’t have let his anger get the better of him. Self-control, strength, and discretion were how he’d made his way, and how he’d planned to survive. But he’d let Tassos get under his skin, let his desire to hurt him outweigh all his careful calculations. Lir wiped his palms down the front of his shirt, suddenly uncomfortable with how easily he’d been enticed to act recklessly. There was no undoing it, and no denying that from this moment on, he’d be a target.

  With a growl of frustration, Lir sprinted down the beach. He ran as hard as his legs could manage, pushing past the burn in his thighs and calves until everything was numb. He didn’t want to go back. The pendulum was a cruel punishment. Lir had seen it enacted twice in his sixteen turns and in both cases the offender hadn’t made it to sunrise. Lir’s death would be a win for that dead round, Tassos. His brother. But the word had never felt so hollow as it did now. Tassos was not his brother. He was his opponent.

  Disdain and rage wrapped long fingers around Lir’s throat and started to squeeze. Nothing belonged to him. He had no power. And what little he’d managed to scrape together had been sacrificed on the altar of bloodying Tassos’s smug face.

  And this report would go straight to Aric Athair himself.

  The thought sent Lir crashing to his knees, his body suddenly filled only with dread and weakness, his blood itching hotly beneath his skin. He could leave right now, avoid all of that, but without Silt to strengthen his blood, abandoning his Bullet life might be simply choosing a slower death than the pendulum.

  And if he survived it, he stood to gain so much more.

  Gritting his teeth, he tugged his stolen ration of Silt from the zippered pocket on his thigh and ripped open the small packet. He dumped the contents into his mouth, letting the earthy sweet flavor coat his tongue. A moment later he felt that familiar wave of peace wash over him. His heart still raced, but now his mind felt cool and distant. He could think instead of react, be strategic instead of impulsive.