Only once all three are loose—now just tethered by the pins punched through—do I breathe a little easier. Knowing this isrightdespite the thick ache of sadness in my throat.
Then I wrench the first strap free.
Though Líri continues to spear skyward, I become aware of her neck bending. Of her eyes on me as I jerk the second strap, releasing it. Gripping hold of the third and final one, I look into her gloomy, glitter-kissed eyes—her face much closer than I’d anticipated. Close enough for me to peer into the fathomless depth of her stare. Something that feels as though I’m already falling …
Just not in the way I’d expected.
We break through the clouds, into the weak rays of golden light, a smile spreading across my face. Because I promised Líri I’d look after her. That nobody wouldeverhurt her again. And Creators hear me, I meant it.
Even if it means saving her from myself.
“Be free, Líri.”
I yank out the final pin and release the strap, feeling the girth beltslither free, Rekk’s saddle coming loose. The final remnants of him falling away.
Taking me with it.
Líri opens her maw as though she’s about to blow a flame. Instead, she releases a pitched lament …
As the cloud swallows me whole.
Gravity rips me down.
Time stretches as a deep familiarity washes over me. Sinking realization that I’ve done this before.
Fallen.
With it comes a choking surge of emotion that turns my tongue thick and heavy. Makes it hard to breathe or evenconsidershaping Clode’s language when I finally slap to my senses, open my internal sound snare, snatch a lungful of air, and gasp a blustery appeal for her to buffer my fall.
“Lui te—nalí vei—shuil, Clode. Lui te—nalí!”
The words whip from my lips so fast I barely hear them, though I gather Clode comprehends my broken, breathless request by her immediate squeal of protest. Like she’s about done with my shit. Justified, given this is the second time in two daes I’ve put her between my life and death. That’s a lot of responsibility for someone who prefers to flit around, occasionally slapping folk or mulching lungs. Murdering the odd fuckwit.
I’d be pissed, too.
I plunge free of the clouds as a barricade of wind smacks me from beneath. Like Clode just perched below, tipped her head, and blew her most violent breath.
My body flails, tossed skyward for a few gut-churning beats before I drop again, gathering speed. Flipping around, I see Líri carried us far from the village; the mountain range pried wide, the river an azure strike through a broad gully of fluffy-looking snow that would beperfectfor catching my fall …
Except I’m plummeting toward a cluster of jagged peaks, destined to be skewered.
“Eil ahn—lamathinta! Ahna! Learue—Clode. Learue!”
This time when she blows, the blast punches my gut with such force I gag, buckling like a folded piece of parchment. Again, I plunge—even farther east. Evenfartherfrom the inviting stretch of fluffy-looking snow.
Fuck me, this was ill planned. Guess I’ll have to ask Clode to slap me west and hope for the best.
“Lui te—nahh vei—aishah lu!”
My body wobbles as a boisterous blow strikes me from the side, clipping me in the chest so hard my lungs seize. I flip diagonally downward, catching glimpses of snow, sky, deathly mountain peaks … snow, sky, deathly mountain peaks … all while choking on my inability to draw breath.
Clode shrieks in frustration, like she’s waiting for me to tell her how to fix this. Something I’d love to do if my lungs weren’t slapped flat.
I feel the pressurized squeeze of her trying to grab me, only to fall straight through her intangible hands.
This is not going to end well.
Another shrill scream of wind warns me I’m about to slam into the mountainside, probably skewer onto a shard of stone. Morbidly poetic, given the number of folk I’ve stuck with a blade over the phases.
