There’s a horrible scraping sound, and then it snaps completely.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ronan and I dangle from the ledge of the ravine by our shadows, the vine around our waists flailing limply beneath us.
“Hold on!” yells Quinn, rushing to cut another length of vine to throw as a rope. Seth leans over the side, reaching down for my hand, but it’s still a long way up.
The strain on my magic is incredible. It’s draining as quickly as when I concealed the torch back in the Alchemists’ Guild, and we’re barely inching upwards.
Just a little further and we’ll be able to cling to the walls for leverage—
“Pull, Sylvie. You can do this.”
Ronan is straining as hard as he can, the veins in his forehead and arms popping from the effort. The torch, which I had extinguished for the flight, flares back to life.
And rather than clearing our shadows, itstrengthensthem.
“Almost there,” says Ronan, reaching over his head for the ledge.
I reach deep within me, ignoring the lies and secrets and going straight for the other source of my power: my love forRonan. I kiss his neck, and he groans. The sound sends my already elevated pulse racing even harder, and the echo of love that passes between us gives me what I need to make the final pull.
“Yes!” Ronan shouts as his hands grab onto rock. The relief of the reduced weight from his grip is immense, the shadow tendrils relaxing as Ronan braces against the rock wall, gripping into grooves with his fingers, pulling us up by his forearms alone.
If I weren’t about to die, I might notice how extremely fucking hot it is watching this incredible feat of athleticism. I might see his forearms bulging from his rolled-up sleeves, the sweat dripping down the taut line of muscle in his neck and shoulders. I might feel those magnificent abs and that phenomenal back as he contracts and pulls both of our body weights up almost singlehandedly.
But with things the way they are, I have to make do with capturing the image and feeling in my mind in a split second before turning my focus to grabbing the rope Quinn lowers.
I reach out and catch it in my left hand, bringing it over to Ronan so he can pull us up. Only once he has it and we’re clambering over the top, pulled up by Seth and Quinn, do I release my shadows.
“Wow, that was…wow,” says Quinn, looking at the muscles of Ronan’s hard body bulging from his ripped white tunic.
It’s positively obscene, and it’s absolutelymine.
He’s lying on his back on the ground, panting, pulse racing, dripping in sweat, and if the others weren’t here, I would have him right now.
Instead, I settle for climbing on top of him and giving him a passionate kiss, ignoring Quinn’s laughter and the vomiting noise Seth makes.
“Did you know…” Ronan says through huffing breaths, his exhausted arms reaching for my back. “Did you know that my wife is incredible?”
I kiss him again, and then I press kisses to his neck and chest where his shirt has torn. “I married you for these,” I say, kissing down his forearms, tasting the salt of his sweat. “I need some alone time with them later.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Can you not?” says Seth.
“I had to witness your multi-hour panic attack over Taran yesterday. You can give me two minutes with my husband after we nearly died,” I snap.
“Say ‘my husband’ one more time.”
There’s a splashing sound that makes us look up. Quinn has broken the surface of the water at the bottom of the middle doorway with her cane. “I wish we had Taran right about now. I can’t feel the bottom.”
I help Ronan to his feet, and we head over to take a look.
The doors, from what we can tell, are identical. There are passages of standard hallway height beyond them, but water has flooded them almost to the floor level of the cavern we’re in. The waters are murky, flowing in from somewhere beyond sight and stirring up sediment from the bottom.
“This one looks cleaner,” says Seth, poking his head in the door on the right.
“They’re the same,” I say before even really looking. He’s getting on my nerves.
