“—No arguments. None. You asked to be the one to go first. If I agree, these are my terms. You won't refuse a single one of them. If Sero starts to slide, I’ll cut the rope and let him drop. Kolibri, too.”
I gave a silent sigh through my nose.
“We don’t have hooks. We don’t have chains. You’ve never tested the strength of your fingers against a bare-faced summit. The higher you climb, the thinner the air becomes. You’re prone to hyperventilating when you—let me finish—when you get scared. We’ve taken it easy so far, riding horses to this point. But this is going to be hard work. You’re going to tire. Your muscles are going to want to give out. And you’re probably going to struggle to breathe.”
He wrapped his hands around the back of my thighs, his head tilted back enough to fully examine me.
“These aren’t the mountains in Leihani. People get altitude sickness. It can take weeks to acclimate, which is probably why the entire Rivean army is sitting stagnant at our feet. If you start to feel dizzy, nauseous, or sleepy, you stop and wait for me to catch up.”
“Okay,” I uttered, resolve hardening with each of his words.
“If you start to feel trapped, turn your head into your cloak hood and breathe your own air until you calm down.Youcontrol your breath. Don't letitcontrol you.”
I gave a stiff nod.
“If you panic, breathe deep. If your instincts tell you to move, listen. And you start to slip, I don't care if you rip off your fingers clawing back up.You may not fucking fall.”
45
Maren
Afull rope's length ahead of Kye and the horses, I parted snow and ice over the Sylus Mountains.
The task was arduously slow. I sought soil for traction, doubling back sometimes three or four times to avoid leading us up loose rock. My moon-damned fur cloak hindered more than helped, weighing my arms down and falling in the way of my reach. I’d finally yanked it off and left it for Kye to pick up, the alpine chill sliding over me as soon as it abandoned my skin. I wound Kye’s scarf around my neck and pushed on.
Twice, I slipped and caught myself. Each time I glanced back at Kye, convinced he’d demand I trade places with him. But he simply met my eyes, his jaw hard and square, molten gaze betraying not a single thought in his head.
We pushed up the mountain until the drifts were taller than my head. Gloves stowed in the pocket of my borrowed pants, I opted for bare fingers to better feel grooves in the rock as I climbed, though my fingertips had long since gone numb. My arms shook with exertion and cold, though what truly stole myenergy was the long process of plowing through the snow using my call as a spade.
Kye and the horses seemed to fare better than I did. They climbed short ledges at a time, chasing the slack of my rope, Kolibri hopping from shelf to shelf.
The mare could’ve been part mountain goat.
Deep enough I’d lost sight of the sun and touch of the wind, my sense of direction wavered. I stopped often, closing my eyes and focusing on what little details I could catch. The faint scent of smoke. The journey of clouds overhead. The shape of shadows against the snowy wall. It didn’t help that the passage I cut twisted and turned as I searched for the best footholds for the horses.
When the summit came into view, I could have cried with relief.
I glanced back at Kye with a grin. He’d followed with one hand on Sero’s rope, his knife ready to cut at any moment. As I sent my smile down at him, he finally relaxed, sending a small smile back.
The crest lay only thirty feet ahead. Calling to the water, I pushed snow off the other side, and clear blue skies shot into view.
Calder. It lay just over the ridge. Just beyond my feet.
I widened the divide. And a muffled clap answered.
Like powder compressing. Like ice fracturing. Like something massive hiding under the blanket lifting its head, dragging its knuckles toward me.
The mountain rumbled under my legs, and something gave within the wall of ice at my right. I craned my neck to see what damage I’d caused.
The entire mountainsideshifted.
I turned as the snow began to roll past me. “RUN,” I shouted, pointing at the opposite wall of my dry pathway—Kye’s only hope of escape.
If he could climb it, he might be safe.
His eyes darted from me to the sheet of snow and ice barreling down the slope.
Rushing for him like a pack of hungry wolves.
