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“Oh.” She scoots back even more until her ass is wedged against me.
My cock, apparently oblivious to the danger, answers.
She doesn’t seem to mind, because she presses her back to my front, her head on my shoulder. With a deep breath, she says, “At least if we fall, it’ll be a quick death.”
Chastain shrugs. “You could survive, possibly, but then the creatures of the Abyss would come for you. If they get a whiff of blood—”
“He’s never been to the Abyss,” I almost coo it to her, because she tenses with every word from Chastain’s too-chatty mouth. “He doesn’t know.” I shoot him a hard glare.
He glances at her, then back to me. “Oh, right. Right. Never been. Don’t know what I’m saying, really. Just tired, is all.” He leans back against the wagon wheel and closes his eyes. “Just going to take a quick nap.”
He feigns sleep, wisely, as I rock Beth slowly in my arms.
Long minutes pass, the platform lowering at a steady pace. I think Beth might be dozing off when she grips my leg again. “Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Thought I heard a shout.”
“My fae hearing is far better than yours, and I didn’t hear a thing.”
“Oh.” She looks around, the stone walls farther away now, the empty darkness looming. “Okay. Safe, right?”
“Right.”
She’s still tense, so I hum her a song about fires and cold nights and the snows that never seem to end.
“I like that,” she says after a while.
“Of course you do. You’re a blade of winter. That song is likely being sung right now around a warm fire in the forest of the High Mountain.”
“I have to admit,” she sighs. “That does sound lovely.”
“I’ll take you there.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” I answer so quickly the magic sparks bright blue.
“I want to go.” She runs her fingers up and down my forearm. “When this is done, that’s where I want to be. With you.”
“You belong there.”
“And I miss Taylor,” she adds. “I even miss Selene a little. Is that crazy?”
“You miss the obsidian witch who has, several times, threatened to kill me and drag my carcass to her cave near the Spires and feast on my bones?”
“Everyone has their flaws, right?”
I smile and thank the Ancestors once again for my peculiar mate. “I suppose that’s true.”
“I think she’s probably having a great time at Leander’s court. Scaring children for fun. Cursing the nobles to get her rocks off. Stuff like that.”
“That certainly sounds like her. I know Taylor misses you, too.”
“She better. After all, I’m the—”
A loud thunk startles us, and I’m on my feet with my sword haft in my hand in a split second.
“What was that?” Beth wraps her arms around my calf.
Another thunk, and the platform trembles, then stops completely.
Iridiel whinnies. “Bodies.”
Chastain rises and rushes toward the back of the platform.
I bend down to Beth. “Stay here.”
“Don’t go.” Her fear cuts me to the bone, but I have to act.
“Baralja, sit with her.” My feral hisses at the thought of another male touching my mate, but it can’t be helped.
He hurries over, his gaze on one of the huge cogs that’s no longer turning, and sits next to her. “Don’t worry,” he offers, despite the very obvious worry in his eyes.
“Let go, my beloved.” I pry her hands from me, then kiss them. “Stay here. You’re going to be all right.”
“No, no, no.” She shakes her head vehemently.
“I’m coming right back.”
“It’s fine.” Baralja reaches out to pat her knee, then stops when he hears my growl. “This machine is safe.”
I leave before Beth can wrap herself around me again. Darting past Iridiel, I find what caused the noise. Two of the fighters we’d left to turn the cogs are dead, one hanging off the platform, his body carved by some unknown assailant. The other’s throat is cut, his arms bent at wrong angles when he landed half onto the wagon.
“Well?” Parnon asks but doesn’t rise. Shifting the platform with his heft is likely not the best idea at the moment.
“Trenhar and Pilari.” Chastain shakes his head and looks up into the inky black. “Must have been ambushed.”
“Maybe Cenet left a few tricks behind.” I bend down and close Trenhar’s eyes. “Waited for us to get onto the platform, then sprang the trap.”
“Great.” Parnon rubs a hand down his sandy face. “What now?”
I eye the cogs. “We have to turn them ourselves.”
“How?” Parnon grunts.
The other former slaves gather around while Baralja tries to get Beth to engage in conversation.
Chastain digs in the back of the wagon and pulls out a particularly heavy bag. “I have a few things to work with, but I’m not sure if gold is what’s needed for this.”
“We can try—”
The platform jolts again, but this time it’s not from a falling body. The cogs are beginning to turn. But it’s different now. Not controlled. Someone above has loosed both cogs, letting them spin us down at a breakneck speed. The impact will kill or gravely wound us all, and I have no idea how much time we have before we reach the bottom.
Beth shrieks, and the fighters grab onto the wagon and each other as we pick up speed, the cogs turning impossibly fast as they unspool. The unicorns panic, but there’s nowhere to go, so they neigh and whinny and huddle against each other around Beth at the center.
I need to get to her, but there’s no time, not when we’re speeding toward the ground faster and faster as the lines unfurl. With a running leap, I launch myself onto the framework of the nearest cog. The cylinder rests on a simple metal spindle, but it’s spinning so quickly it’s throwing sparks.
“Parnon!” I yell and stare up at the rapidly unspooling wire. The top cogs must be completely slack, allowed to spin unattended.
He
stomps up. “Great.”
“We’re going to stop it.”
“Too fast,” he says, but pulls up his hands all the same.
“I can jam this one, I think,” Chastain yells from the other side, a flash of gold telling me he’s fashioning something to wedge into the cog. “Everyone who can, come help!”
The fighters rush to his aid as Parnon and I grimace at the blurring cog.
“We need to do this together! Slow it down first, then jam it!” I yell back and brace myself against the side of the platform. If one of us stops our side too fast, it’ll send the entire thing careening to the side. Not good.
I motion to Parnon. “When I say go, we’re going to push against the side of the cog.”
“With our bare hands?” Parnon’s sandy brows rise.
“You have any other idea?” I shout over the whine of the spool.
He grumbles, but it’s lost to the wind as we hurtle downward into the dark.
“Ready!” Chastain yells.
Parnon leans out toward the cog, the air pushing his hair straight up.
“One, two, three, go!” I shove my hands against the cog as Parnon does the same. Pain rips up my arms, the skin shredding from my palms as I push as hard as I can. My bones threaten to snap, and I’m certain they would if Parnon weren’t here to help.
The sparks lessen, the cog slowing, but the platform begins to tilt. Beth screams as the wagon rolls toward her and the unicorns. Panic erupts inside me, and I ease my pressure on the cog. The platform straightens, the wagon stopping with a wobble.
“Match their speed as best you can!” I yell over the noise.
“I’m trying!” Parnon shouts, blood splattering onto his face from his own ruined hands.
When the platform begins to tilt the other way, I press harder. Agony coats every nerve in my hands and arms, but I can’t stop, not until the machine is under control. All the same, I howl at the white-hot pain, and Parnon does the same.
Gritting my teeth, I adjust the pressure until the platform finally slows enough to be manageable, but I can’t let off the cog. If I do, we’ll be in the same predicament, or worse, if the platform tilts again.
