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Rory grabbed Willow’s scruff and pulled her to the ladder. “Climb,goddammit,girl.”
Fear trembled in her voice. Rory was rarely afraid. Willow turned back at the six beautiful monsters, and that fear infected her. Willow gripped the rope and lifted herself onto a rung.
The dragon shrieked. She glanced back and saw both a miraculous sight and something frightening. It became a shadow again, sparkling with stars. Willow’s dark protectors struggled to stand, exhausted. Undead broke through the invisible barrier. But one with long black hair locked his fingers around her ankle. Those sad eyes beseeched.Don’t leave, he seemed to say. A jolt of connection rippled through her body, and his expression morphed into confusion.
“We worked for so long to have you, but you’re not our queen?” he rasped, dismayed. “You’re nothing.”
I’m nothing?Rejection slammed into her chest. Her dry insides crumbled. She tugged her foot back, planted her boot on his face, and shouted hoarsely, “Then you’remonsters!”
He fell back into the fray, swallowed by undulating undead. His sad eyes still looked at her as stars fell from the sky.
“Willow!” Rory’s voice sliced through the air above. “Now, while they’re distracted.”
Jolting, she glanced up and climbed.
“What about Alfie?” she choked out, not wanting to look back. Was he alive?
Rory paused.
“He’s not coming,” she said and resumed climbing.
ChapterFifty-Two
With Rory’s help, Willow climbed onto the wooden deck. She rolled to her back, gasping to catch her breath. She was safe. Alive. But her world was still ending. Her family would never forgive her for what she’d done, and she had no explanation. No excuses. The white balloon pumped with gas and shimmering harvested manabeeze wouldn’t hold the answers.
“Willow.” Rory’s warning tone drew her gaze.
Four aviators aimed their guns at them. To the side, Nero stood with a murderous expression on his face. But he was still clean, still without a speck of blood on his brown leather jacket or face.
Willow’s face and shoulder burned from the undead’s nails. Rory limped and panted heavily, her tight hairstyle frizzy and lopsided. Blood dripped from a cut over her eye.
Slowly rolling to her feet, Willow searched their surroundings. Just beyond this airship, another sailed away—its propellers whirring at full speed, its sails unfurled and catching the wind. Another harvesting airship coasted a few hundred yards behind them, almost as if it waited for Nero’s instructions.
His fingers stroked his bare left wrist as his gaze ping-ponged between Willow and Rory. Finally, he settled on Willow and barked, “What the fuck was that dragon?”
She flinched.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I didn’t do it. I think it was the Wild Hunt.”
He blinked, recognition hitting his expression. Tales of the Wild Hunt were sung about in the dining hall as part of his propaganda. It kept people afraid of leaving the Crystal City walls.
“You’re lucky it didn’t eat us all,” he returned, furious. That’s when Willow noticed the dead bodies slumped in the corners of the deck, piled as though about to be tossed overboard.
The whirring of engines and propellers increased in pitch as the airship rotated, changing direction to return to Crystal City. The air felt thinner, even though they hadn’t lifted altitude.
Willow shouldn’t be here. The only reason Nero wanted her was for her power. But that was gone. She wasn’t even sure she could return to her family. Not like this—not after what she’d done.
“What’s with the third degree?” Rory ground out, her hand hovering over her sheathed dagger—the only weapon she had left. Her gaze darted over the crew.
A man with windburned cheeks and a long nose narrowed his gaze. “You should have stayed down there with your tainted freak.”
“Excuse me?” Her brows lifted, incredulous at his rancor. “You left the ladder down.”
“A mistake,” Nero smirked coldly. “We were too busy fighting off that dragon and turning the ship around. We didn’t have time to cut the rope.”
Pain and betrayal flashed in Rory’s eyes as Nero gestured for his men to advance.
“Why?” she croaked.
