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God, he must be in agony. I’ve been stung several times in my life, but not all at once. Remembering my nightmare—the one where I got attacked by bees—in my almost-memories is bad enough. It’s indescribably awful to see him in this condition.
“You’re not going to be able to move soon, are you?” I ask with panic seeping in.
“Correct.”
“Are you going to die?”
“No.”
“How long will you be like this?”
“Don’t know. Never been stung this many times before. One sting—a few hours. This many? Time will tell.” His lips are getting stiffer, his tongue heavier.
The wings Ellister had spoken of earlier are out, like he’d tried to fly away from what was happening out there. They’re mostly smashed under his weight, but I see the fine bones with downy gray feathers growing in some places.
The match burns out. I’m so focused on Ellister that I don’t even notice how close the flame is getting to my fingertips, and I end up hissing when my skin gets a little burned.
I quickly light another. This time, I find a new candlestick in a pile of supplies next to the dresses, and I bring the flame to the wick.
When I turn back to Ellister, his wings are… shrinking. Retracting, until they’re absorbed by his body.
With the paralysis setting in, the cup falls from his grip and clatters to floor. He nudges it toward me with trembling, uncoordinated fingers. “For you.”
I glance inside the container, and my stomach drops when I realize what he did.
“You got honey for me?” There’s a long chunk of honeycomb inside, with the honey draining to the bottom of the cup. I’m seriously touched that he would make such a heartfelt gesture, but I’m also pissed that he risked himself. “Dude, you’re not a beekeeper. Even I don’t get into my hives without protective measures.”
“I smoked the hive,” he defends, his words stilted. “Then it started raining and ruined my plan. The bees were very vengeful about my intrusion.”
Going into damage-control mode, I count the stings on his exposed skin, but I lose track at about twelve. There could be more under his clothing.
Although he claimed he couldn’t die from this, I’m scared.
He looks terrible. He’s swelling up like a balloon. One of his eyelids is completely shut, and his bottom lip resembles a small hotdog.
I make a distressed noise. “I think you need medical attention, Ellister.”
“No use. Can you feel the pain through our connection? Are you hurting?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good. Another benefit to losing my soul. Fated pairs can sometimes feel each other’s pain, but if you can be spared this, I’ll consider us the luckiest couple in Valora.”
Suddenly, the weirdest thing happens—the floor beneath us starts to lose its solidness. It swirls, and under my hand the stone crumbles, going from hard and rough to feeling like loosely packed sand.
“What’s happening?”
“Vortex. Grab onto me, Hannah. Need to get you outside the mountain. Can’t leave you trapped with no food or water.”
Thinking quickly, I gather the few supplies within arm’s reach—A blanket, the matches, and the cup of honey. Ellister’s already got his floppy water canteen attached to his beltloop.
“Now, Hannah.” His demand is urgent.
Clinging to his arm, I try not to touch a place where he was stung. Then I shut my eyes tightly as I kneel next to his inflamed body. I let out a shriek when the ground completely gives out.
I’m falling. Not just dropping, but spinning, too. My body is jostled this way and that, and Ellister and I keep bumping into each other.
As much as Ellister’s power impresses me, it also kind of scares the hell out of me, and my scream gets swallowed up in the chaotic suction.
