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I removed my dagger and hit the stone. I’d expected it not to work, but the stone chipped. I banged the same spot several more times and put the tip of my boot in the divot. It was just enough to give me leverage.
This could work as long as I could keep my strength up.
I made another four divots and began to climb, but when I attempted to grip the stone with my left hand, agony ripped through it, and I clutched it to my chest. It had to be broken.
Reaching the top just got more difficult.
Chest heaving, I gently wrapped my left arm around the stalagmite as much as I could and held the blade between my teeth. I climbed another step and forced myself not to think about how many more lay ahead.
I took the dagger again and made another divot above my right hand. When it was big enough, I leaned to the left and wrapped my top half around the column, then found spots for both feet to push myself upward.
I continued up, moving slowly, remaining methodical and trying not to rush. Rushing would make me careless, and I was already struggling. I breathed through my teeth as my legs and arms threatened to give out.
Every time I progressed, I wanted to glance up to see how much farther I had left, but I stopped myself. I didn’t have any excess energy to spill on frustration.
Time dragged on, and I could feel the eyes of the fae on me. The noise had calmed to a low buzz, but they had to see how I was struggling.
My right arm was taking the brunt of my weight. Climbing was a full-body venture, and having one hand out of commission made things harder.
On my next step, my foot didn’t hit the groove, and I slid downward.
“Fall, fall, fall!” the fae chanted.
My blood ran cold, and adrenaline pummeled my body, giving me another burst of energy. I wouldn’t give these assholes the satisfaction.
My foot found a hold, and I continued to climb more slowly than before.
When the circumference of the stalagmite shrank to a size my arms and legs could wrap around, butterflies took flight in my stomach. Maybe I’d make it out of this.
I eagerly reached for the top … and my hand slipped. My injured left hand also jerked with a sharp stabbing sensation. Salty saliva filled my mouth, making the nausea in my stomach roil.
“Princess Alina,” King Kieran said in his deep, soothing voice. “Try flying again. Your back has had time to rest.”
A shiver ran down my spine. I’d hoped the other competitors would’ve left by now, but he’d stayed to watch me. I didn’t know how I felt about that, but I’d come way too far to die now.
I tried flapping my wings, anticipating my muscles cramping again. They were sore as fuck, and a deep ache rolled throughout my back, but they spread out again.
This time, I did look up, needing to take stock of how much farther I had to go. I prepared to be disappointed, but I only had about five more feet up and four feet over to go to make it onto the ledge.
I had to do this. I needed this trial to be over.
Gritting my teeth, I forced my wings to move.
With a shriek, I kept my eyes locked on my goal as my arms and legs gave out of their own accord. They couldn’t hold my weight anymore.
My wings flapped harder, my full body weight straining them, and my back muscles spasmed again.
Excited chatter from the crowd rumbled in my ears, but when I looked into King Kieran’s eyes, everything else disappeared.
I had to get to him.
Each beat of my wings hurt worse than the last, but my body was rising despite the jerky ascension. Someway. Somehow. I landed on the edge of the platform.
When my feet hit the ground, I dropped to my ass. My legs couldn’t support my body anymore.
“Heat wave.” King Kieran blew out a breath. “I didn’t think you were going to make it.”
“Nor did I.” Curry didn’t bother to hide his disappointment. “But you surprised us again, Your Highness.”
