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“Are you serious?” Curry chuckled darkly. “She hasn’t crossed it. She’s touching it. Her heart has to cross the line.”
Tears stung my eyes as everything inside me wanted to jerk my hand away from the platform to stop the pain, but my survival instincts kicked in to keep me hanging on.
I grasped for the ledge with my free arm, but my muscles ached, and I couldn’t quite extend it.
Curry leaned over the edge, his lip curled over his teeth. “Wait until everyone witnesses me killing the chosen one.” He then rolled his foot over my hand.
Bones cracked, and there was no way I could hold on.
The crowd roared as he lifted his shoe and released my hand. I dropped like a boulder, the wind blowing through my hair and wings. I rushed toward the dirt ground, but ten feet from it, my wings took on a life of their own and stretched out.
I glided. My back protested, but not like when I had flapped the wings. The soreness pulsed deep into my muscles, but I could handle it. I was still dropping, but not as fast.
I hit the ground on my front, and dirt filled my mouth and eyes. I felt like I was drowning.
Silence filled the arena, anticipation thick in the air. My body screamed, but I wasn’t sure if it was from the obstacle course or the fall.
My lungs were still working.
I was alive, but I didn’t know what that meant. I hadn’t passed the finish line.
Slowly, I stood up. Every muscle ached. I took back all the times I’d told Stan that he’d broken me. This was worse than everything I’d experienced before.
However, I wouldn’t allow these barbarians to believe they’d bested me.
Standing at my full height, I spun slowly to ensure I faced each section. I hated that all these people wanted me to die. Even those who’d been cheering when I’d arrived were on the edges of their seats, waiting for me to become mincemeat … or fairy dust … or whatever metaphor they used.
I hadn’t accounted for what else I’d find.
The four dead bodies of my competitors lay haphazardly on the ground, blood pooling beneath them, their limbs strewn in unnatural positions.
My stomach jumped into my throat, and I feared I’d blow chunks everywhere.
Boos sounded again, and fae jumped to their feet, smacking the backs of their hands against their palms.
I glanced up to find King Kieran and Curry staring down at me. Curry’s nose wrinkled while King Kieran’s jaw twitched.
King Kieran waved a hand and said, “The trials are not over until you cross the finish line or die.” His voice projected to me the way Quinley’s and Eamon’s had when they’d addressed the crowd.
Straining, I tried to spread my wings to fly, but they barely moved, and my muscles spasmed painfully. I groaned and relaxed my back. Trying was futile.
I had only one choice.
Climb.
Moving to the closest stalagmite, I studied my obstacle. The problem was getting up to the thinner part, where I could wrap my legs and arms around it to keep myself from falling.
One problem at a time, Ivy. Stan’s calm voice echoed in my mind. In war, there are times when you will want to lie down and die, but the key is to never stop. Try until you can’t anymore. Focus on small goals.
Though I’d never expected to go to war, he’d trained me as if I would. He’d said the Boy Scout motto had it right. Be Prepared. That was the key to survival.
I stood before the stalagmite, the width four times my size, and I foolishly looked up and realized it had to be at least one hundred feet tall.
Shit.
This was going to hurt, but it beat hanging around, listening to everyone boo me until I perished. I had no doubt they’d stick around and enjoy my slow demise.
My legs ached as I prepared myself to climb, but I couldn’t find any purchase, which meant I’d have to make my own handholds and footholds.
