Mostly, I was too exhausted to talk. Too exhausted to think. It took everything I had just to keep going. The shard, my prison—they felt like distant, intangible things. Were they worth all this trouble? Was my life? At this altitude, it was hard to tell. Bone-deep fatigue whispered how easy it would be to let it all go.
But I kept climbing because Gavin was beneath me, waiting. A silent tether, pulling me forward.
My fingers throbbed inside my gloves; the extra traction was barely enough against the vine, which had grown slippery in the mist. With every labored breath, a rich, earthy aroma filled my lungs, grounding me against the howling wind. One moment, the gusts pressed me into the stalk; the next, they threatened to rip me away.
The daylight dwindled, shadows stretching like claws across the twisting branches of the vine. A dull ache pounded behind my eyes. I reached up, muscles trembling, my arm heavy as stone.
The slick branch slipped through my fingers.
My foot missed its hold.
Air. Nothing but air.
My shriek echoed in my ears as I plunged, stomach lurching. I squeezed my eyes shut against the white-hot panic that had stopped my heart.
“Marin!” Gavin’s shout tore through the wind.
My harness yanked, a brutal jolt. The force whipped me sideways. I slammed into the vine, pain vibrating through my shoulders. Gavin’s grip crushed my wrist as he hauled me up, pinning me against the stalk. He flattened his body over mine as my lungs struggled to take in air.
“Are you hurt?” His voice was tight.
I shook my head; terror stealing my words. Hands shaking, I fisted them into Gavin’s shirt like he was an anchor. My head dropped against his shoulder. How had I ever imagined doing this alone?
“I’ve got you,” Gavin murmured against my temple. “I won’t let go.”
My next breath was sharp and painful as I dragged it past the knot wedged in my throat.
“I know,” I whispered, certain he couldn’t hear it over the roaring wind.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. Then Gavin placed another hook into the vine, attaching the lead to my harness for extra strength. He tipped his head back, searching for something overhead.
“We should stop for the night. Both of us are too tired to keep pushing.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m barely winded,” I joked, finally able to form coherent words.
“Ah, there she is. I was worried the vine knocked all thesarcasm out of you.”
“I’ll cut the sarcasm when I’m dead.”
Gavin brushed a loose strand of hair from my face. “Let’s not test that theory, shall we?”
I glanced down into nothing. “Fine. But only because there are less horrifying ways to die than plunging into a bottomless void.”
Gavin chuckled. “Oh, there’s a bottom. We can’t see it, but we'd feel it.”
I shot him a disgruntled look, my voice dripping with scorn. “You’re my greatest source of comfort. Like sitting on a sea urchin.”
“My life for your comfort, Mare.” He winked, and my heart tripped. “Come on. Looks like there’s a branch a short climb up that will work for us.”
We maneuvered up the vine until we reached a thick branch that twisted like a spiral around the main stalk. It created a narrow recess, blocking most of the wind, and would allow us to sit with our backs against the branch.
Only one problem. Did I mention it was narrow?
Gavin hooked our ropes into the vine and pulled them tight while I surveyed the hollow nook. We’d both fit, that wasn’t the issue. It was how we’d fit that had my pulse hammering. We’d be pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, with little room outside of that.
“After you.” Gavin gestured to the opening.
“Don’t you think we should find a wider perch? You know, something with more space to stretch our legs.”
