Page 117 of The Heart Trials

“Balance yourself,” Caelus says, his voice strained. “Catch your breath. There are two good holds above you.” There’s a pause like he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he watches me climb the next little way, his eyes glued to my feet and hands, guiding where I place each one.

Once the ledge at the top is back in my sight, he restarts his ascent, twice as fast as me. Ivy helps him, pointing out better holds, adjusting his clothes when the wind wrestles them. She’s a good help to him. Good. He deserves that. Maybe they will be fast…friends.

By the time we reach the ledge, my body is shaking. Every muscle feels like it’s melting into static. I collapse onto the rock, fingers red, nails broken and ripped off. My legs don’t want to hold me. My arms feel hollow. Even my thoughts are slow and fuzzy around the edges. An intense need to rest pulls at me like an anchor.

Ivy undoes her gear. She murmurs a quiet thanks and Caelus thanks her in return. I unclip my harness with trembling hands. He comes over to help me, our fingers stumbling over one another. His are steady, sure, and quick. When we manage to get me out of my gear, I sit, my legs protesting.

“You did good,” he says. “Are you alright?”

“I am fine, Caelus. Just tired.”

“We have another long climb tomorrow, a break, and then one shorter one.”

“There’s another way,” Ivy says between guzzles of water, and I wonder how she knows anything about this place. “If we hike to the west end of this mountain, it’ll take half the day, but it’s inclined. We can climb the other side. It’ll be one climb tomorrow instead of two.”

“How do you know so much about the Stonebound district?” I ask.

Her eyes cut to me, lashes blinking quickly. “Just picked it up from eavesdropping on Stonebound. They made maps.”

“Aren’t you glad we brought her?” I ask Caelus.

He smirks. “You’re right; is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes, actually, thank you.”

He smiles—a real one this time, not the polite curve he gives Ivy or the clipped smirks he hides behind strategy. It’s full and unguarded, softening the sharp lines of his face, creasing around his stormy eyes. Even in the fading light, it breaks me. Something in my chest stutters. I hate how easily he does that—how one look from him can unravel me more than any mountain could. My gaze drops before I can stop it, landing on his mouth. The curve of it. The way his lips part just slightly with each breath, like he might say something else, something reckless, if the silence stretches a second longer. He doesn’t. Neither do I. But the air between us thickens with everything unspoken.

Focus on the ship.

“Let’s find a place to make camp,” he says, offering his hand to me. Fingers open, steady, waiting. “We rest. Then, we’ll hike west as you say, Ivy. We’ll have to make it all the way to the summit tomorrow.”

“Is that enough time?” I ask, my hand hesitating to take his because I know what it does to me when I let him hold me. The sharp edges of the world will bleed into nothing, and this close to the end, I need to be keenly aware of every jagged edge. Still, I reach up. Our fingers brush, then his lace around mine, warm, sure, and calloused. It makes me want more of him. All of him. It makes me want everything I can’t have.

“It’s going to have to be,” he says.

I slip my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet. I sway, the weight of my body feeling like it doubled in an evening. He holds tighter to my hand, like he doesn’t want to let me go. And for a breathless, treacherous second, neither do I.

We stay there, connected.

I am stronger because of this.

For now, I need this.

But now can’t last forever. So once I’m steady on my feet, after a few beats of Ivy staring at us awkwardly, I peel my hand out of his. He hands me my water.

“Dehydration will only make things harder,” Caelus says. He picks up our pack and attaches it to himself. I consider arguing to have it back, but the ground feels shaky. I guzzle from my bottle. I need rest.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him as we start the hike to find a spot for camp. Ivy circles around us, keeping her eye out for more food to forage.

“I’m fine.” The fatigue lining his eyes calls him a liar. The Heartfiller is starting to set in.

We find a spot nestled in the trees under the crest of the ridge, sheltered on three sides. Up ahead, a steep drop opens just beyond the edge. Ivy’s yawning before she’s even taken her pack off.

“It’s good you came with us,” I tell her.

“Sure.”

I shuffle on my feet with more questions about what’s going on between her and Rhythe. Why does he seem to care about her, but she seems miffed by it? She’s not a person of many words. But she’s observant. A watcher, like Orrick was. I bet she knows more things that could help us.