“Very well,” he finally says, indicating the platform that meets the nose of the boat. “Ladies first. Watch your step.”
I scramble forward, ignoring his outstretched hand as I clamber off the wobbly boat and onto Bahari land. The blue marble is smooth and steady, packed with a warmth that soothes my soles.
Goosebumps sprout across my skin, and I close my eyes and pretend the stone is rough and black—that the slapping sea echoing through the cave is an ocean of silent clouds that stretches as far as the eye can see. That I’m on the balcony of Stony Stem, face tipped to the sky, bathed in warm beams of sunlight that rarely touched the rest of the castle.
For a moment, I’mhome.
“Everything alright?”
“Fine,” I croak, eyes snapping open.
I swallow the unwanted bulb planted in my throat and push forward.
Trailed by Cainon’s heavy presence, I follow the platform that leads out the mouth of the tunnel, curls to the right, and meets the base of the stairs, cushioned in places by clumps of spongy moss. We begin the arduous climb, edging up the side in jagged increments, each stair a different height than the last and puddled in places, water splashing up my straining calves.
Though my legs are conditioned to this sort of labor, a few weeks stuffed in a boat has taken its toll, and my thighs are burning as much as my lungs by the time we near the top.
Trying to hide my labored breaths, I step onto the wooden platform saddling the monolith, head swiveling, hair torn about by the wind as I take in the vast expanse of the bay stretched beneath us in all directions—Cainon’s anchored ship looking dwarfed from all the way up here.
Another blast of wind makes my feet tingle.
I shift further from the stairs, giving Cainon room, and trace the bucking swing bridge to where it’s tethered to the top of the cliff.
The bridge is long.
Frail.
Cainon eases past, stepping out. “A few of the planks need replacing. Watch your step.”
Adjusting my hold on the sack, I grip the rope rail with one hand and mimic his footfalls, heart dropping as I step over a gap where a plank is missing, the world falling away beneath my feet.
A giddy swirl in my gut electrifies me, a smile dragging up the corners of my mouth …
One wrong step, and I couldplunge.
A brutal burst of wind shakes the bridge, and I pause, hair churning into a tumbleweed of knots. A bubble of laughter pops from my lips.
Cainon looks back at me, frowning, but I can’t seem to wipe the smile off my face as we bounce and sway to an erratic, exhilarating beat that makes me feel alive for the first time in days.
For some reason, balancing on this precipice between life and possible death makes my steps feel lighter, not the other way around, and I’m suddenly in no rush to reach the other end. Instead, I take my time, absorbing each bouncing blow, letting the wind have its way with me.
Closing in on the cliff, I can smell the soil, and desperation surges through me again, that vicious hunger intensifying. It shoves me forward so I’m just a few planks behind Cainon as he steps off the bridge.
There’s a splintering sound, and I gasp when the wood gives way beneath me.
I drop—just a short, sharp moment that rips my heart up my throat before Cainon spins, snatches me by the front of my shirt, and hauls me forward.
A roll of laughter shakes my chest, and I’m set on solid ground in a heap. My sack lands heavily beside me, my shoulder spasming from the strain as my laughter tapers off. I fold my knees up under myself and spread my hands forward across the damp ground, fingers stretching …
Heart slowing …
I press my forehead against the dirt andbreathe.
“Do you need a hand up?”
“Just give me a minute,” I murmur, clawing my fingers down past the grass, forcing dirt beneath my fingernails. I heap myself full of the raw, near-carnal smell with every intoxicating inhale.
The pain in my shoulder eases, the muscles in my back relax and loosen, and something inside me warms. Settles.
