Page 23 of The Tower

That I won’t fall to a horrible death.

Except maybe I will.

I want to scream and run. I want to do what he says. I want to close my eyes and sleep for a hundred years, like a princess under a spell. But who knows what new horror I’d wake up to?

I turn back toward the window, my eyes on the floor, then take one more tiny step. “Good girl,” he whispers, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s proud of me or because I just took the first step into whatever unseen plan he’s concocted. Because, of course, he has a plan. And somehow, I’m at the center of it.

“Now two more,” he says, releasing my elbow. I go tense, immediately reaching for his hand. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. “Two more,” he repeats, as I tighten my hold.

I draw a breath, then take one step toward the void.

“One more. But look up as you walk.”

But I can’t. The gaping maw is too close now. I feel its pull. Its hunger. Any closer, and I’ll fall in. I’ll lose myself in the dark. And I’ll never find my way back.

“No.” The word is a whisper, and I tilt my face down, concentrating on my satin shoes that peek out from under the hem of my dress. Shiny and white and festive, so unlike the night that wants to claim me.

“You can do this, Sasha.” His voice is firm and without pity. “If you want my protection against your father, you have to.”

My head snaps up. “Bastard.”

“In so many ways. Walk, Princess.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Too bad you’re not the one with the power. Now walk.”

Prick. But I don’t say that aloud. Instead, I swallow, my hand tightening around his as I force myself to look through the glass at the lights of the city, so like the lights that twinkle up in space. A vacuum. Unsurvivable.

But I have to do this. I need his help to stay hidden and protected from my father.

He starts to loosen his grip, but I squeeze tighter. Small windows I can handle. Mostly, anyway. But this expanse … it’s overwhelming. I’m still at least eight feet from the window, and I already feel like I’m about to teeter. Like I’m going to fall.

Just like my mother did.

Except she was pushed. You know she was pushed.

I shudder, and it’s only Grimm’s hand in mine that keeps me steady.

The irony isn’t lost on me.

I take one step, then another and another. I try to take one more, but my feet won’t move. My body is stone, and I close my eyes, terrified that he’s going to demand I open them and take two more steps. And like a hammer falling against a salt pillar, those words will shatter me completely.

Instead, his voice has a hint of gentleness when he says, “You did well. Open your eyes.”

I hesitate but comply, then sag with relief when I see that the windows are opaque again.

“Congratulations,” he says.

“Screw you,” I snap, but the words aren’t hard. I want them to be, but I’m too drained. And yet …

Despite the fear and exhaustion, there’s a tiny flicker of glee. Because I did it. I walked toward the void, and I wasn’t sucked into hell.

That’s good, right?

Then again, maybe I couldn’t get sucked into hell because I’m already here, trapped in Grimm Tower with the devil himself.

Seven