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19
They make this shit look so easy in the movies, but in reality, it's a nightmare. My arms are weak and strain under my own weight. Aron below me makes the rope shift back and forth, and the high breeze makes it almost like trying to climb down a pendulum. We're so high up it's terrifying, and I'm actually glad I don't have shoes on, because my toes cling to each knot. It's only the knots themselves that keep me from falling to my death, because I can rest my hands on each one. If I had to rely on my arm strength, I'd be dead already.
Still, I don't make fast enough time for Aron. He paces ahead of me quickly, shimmying down the rope as if he's done this a hundred times. Me, I've never realized just how out of shape I am until I have to use my arms for climbing down. I know we have to hurry. I'm trying.
I refuse to look down at the ground, because if I notice just how high up we are, I might freak the fuck out. I've never been afraid of heights that I know of, but I don't want today to be the day I acquire that fear. I just hope no one from above figures out what we're doing and cuts our rope—
Oh god, why did I just think that?
I force myself to move faster, to keep going. Because this is not safe, and no matter how scary it is, I have to get to the ground, and fast. Whimpering, sobbing, I keep moving down, foot by painful foot. My hands feel raw from how tightly I've gripped the rope, and each knot burns against my skin. Doesn't matter.
Just keep moving down.
Just keep moving down.
Something grabs my ankle. I let out a terrified scream, nearly losing my grip. Only sheer terror of falling to my death keeps me from letting go.
"Calm yourself," Aron shouts up at me.
I look down, and sure enough, it's his hand on my ankle. "Don't fucking do that," I hiss at him. "You almost made me fall!”
He lets go of my ankle and then gestures at the open expanse below us. "There is no more rope. There is nowhere else to go."
"What?" Horrified, I try to peer around him. I don't see any more rope dangling below him, and so I study the ground. Or I try to. It's still a huge drop away. Thirty feet, maybe. Fifty? Does it matter? I can't do that and survive. "Oh my god. We've got to go back." A sob forms in my throat. I'm not sure I can go back. I press my face against the straining rope knots. This is an utter nightmare.
"We ca
I force myself to lift my head and scan the horizon. It's not hard to do, because with Aron and me both at the bottom of the damn thing, we're swinging and swaying in the breeze like a true pendulum, and the rope just keeps twisting and spi
I hate that he's right. I hate that we have to get out of here, and fast. But there's nowhere to go. Frantically, I look around. "Is there an outcropping nearby? Have we drifted close enough—”
"No time." Aron grabs my ankle again. "Slide down farther and hold onto me."
"What? NO!" Is he insane? He's insane.
"Do as I say," he barks up at me, and I resist the urge to kick his face. His hand tightens on my ankle and then he's pulling on me, the asshole. "Move farther down—”
"What the fuck are you doing?!"
"Let go, Faith—"
"No!" The rope twists, swaying, and Aron tugs harder on my ankle. Oh fuck, now he's climbing up the rope, and his big body is covering mine. "Stop it," I cry out, wanting to slap at him, but I don't have a free hand to do so. "Fuck off! We can't—"
"Let go," he says again, and his voice is in my ear, the heat and electricity of his big body against my back.
I don't let go.
I don't have to, because in the next moment, the rope snaps somewhere above and all the tension disappears from my hands, and then we're falling, and falling…
I smack into the ground with enough force that the air slams out of my lungs. Everything hurts and throbs with pain, and I lie completely still for a moment, stu
It takes me a moment to realize that I'm not dead.
It takes a longer moment to realize that I didn't land, belly-down, onto the dirt. I landed on top of Aron.
Gasping, fighting off the blackness that creeps at the edges of my vision, I struggle to sit up. I'm having trouble focusing and the world is a messy blur. My head throbs and there's still no air in my stupid lungs and I can't breathe and that's terrifying enough on its own—
And then I'm able to take a shallow breath. Then another. I cough, desperate and relieved. The blackness fades away and I'm able to focus on my surroundings despite the throb in my head. I realize after a moment that I'm still straddling Aron, my legs thrown over his, my butt resting in the cradle of his hips.
I landed on top of him and it nearly killed me. I don't know how it didn’t kill me, and yet I'm still here. Even so…that must mean Aron's dead. I stare down in horror at the man underneath me, his eyes closed, his dark hair spread out around him like a halo in the dust. That dusky red scar that bisects one half of his face stands out like a bloodstain.
He opens his mismatched eyes and scowls at me.
"Oh my god," I choke out. "You're alive."
"Why would I not be?"
"Because we shouldn't be?" I glance up, looking for the dangling end of the rope. It's swaying in the wind, high above us, barely visible in the shadows of the Citadel. Oh god. "How did we survive that?"
"I believe I am still immortal, despite being trapped on this plane. You are the mortal part of this pairing. As long as I protect you, I suspect I am safe."
That makes a lot of horrifying sense. It explains why I'm eating and why he's not. Why I'm sleeping and why he's not. Why everyone would attack me and not him. "I have no idea how that makes me feel," I whisper.
"Me either." And Aron frowns to himself, as if displeased with this realization.
As he does, it comes to my attention that I'm still straddling him. My hands are splayed across his chest. Our bodies are posed not as if we've just taken a tumble but as if we're in bed together and I've decided to be on top. I can feel my cheeks grow heated at the thought, and Aron's eyes narrow as he gazes at me, and I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.
Then I remember last night's humiliating di
I flop down on my back, staring up at the sky. The rope swings back and forth high above, taunting me. The Citadel itself is beautiful in the sunlight, glittering like a translucent many-tiered wedding cake floating in the deep blue sky. It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen…too bad it's filled with assholes. Or just one big asshole. I think of lovely, dainty Tadekha and the smug smile on her face. I think of the adoring shimmering-winged angel women she surrounds herself with. I think of last night, when Tadekha's anchor eagerly planted her face between the goddess's thighs and muff-dived as if her life depended on it.
Next to me, Aron staggers to his feet and dusts off his plain red tunic. His hands slap at the fabric and it sends a wave of dust into my face, causing me to choke and cough again. "It is time to go," Aron tells me.
I don't want to get up just yet. In fact, it would be great if I didn't have to move again, ever. "Everything hurts," I tell him. "Let's give ourselves a few minutes, okay?" The thought of hauling myself to my feet and walking these endless dirt plains seems like a terrible idea. Damn it all, maybe we should have taken our chances with the guards, tried to shanghai the Citadel from Tadekha's grasp.
"Get up," Aron says bluntly. "There is no time to waste."
Isn't there? The Citadel is peacefully drifting overhead, and while there are no birds chirping, it's still rather serene. I want to stay here just long enough to have a nap and let my throbbing, aching body recover.
As I stare up at the floating crystal city, something small and dark flies through the air toward it. For a brief moment, I think it's a bowling ball, and that makes me pause, because why would a bowling ball be flying through the air—
A crashing sound like a thousand glasses breaking interrupts the silence. Overhead, I watch as one delicate tower collapses on itself and a rain of crystal chunks fall from the sky overhead toward the ground.
Toward me, stretched out on the ground.
I gasp, but before I can do anything, Aron's covering me with his body, and there's a tinkle like windchimes all around us as the crystals rain to the dirt.
"What was that?" I manage to choke out, covering my mouth with one gauzy sleeve. The air's filled with dust and crystal fragments.
"Trebuchet," he tells me, voice abrupt. His expression is that pissy, impatient look he always wears, and I know what he's thinking—he just had to save my ass again. "It is time to go."
"Let's go," I tell him faintly. I don't want to be underneath the Citadel as it's attacked. That might be the worst place possible—death from above and death from the troops that approach closer and closer.
Perhaps escape wasn't such a good plan after all.