Stone. Cold against my forehead. I don't remember the corridor. I don't remember my chambers. I'm standing outside my own door with her smell still hovering around me and I have no memory of how I got here.
I almost didn't stop.
I almost closed those inches and put my mouth on hers. Almost found out what sound she'd make if I licked the food off her lips instead of feeding it to her. Almost spread her legs right there on the counter and—
The hidden panel gives under my palm. The wall splits.
The stairs spiral up into darkness. Narrow. Uneven. I take them fast, not bothering with light. I know where the stone dips. Where the edges crumble. I've walked this path blind more times than I can count.
The bone blade is heavy at my hip.
Higher. The air thins. The city noise fades—all those lies, all that static, dropping away with every step until there's only stone and silence and the sound of my own breathing.
The tunnel opens.
The Cut.
Cold hits my face. The wind carries the smell of the city up from below—smoke and metal and too many bodies packed too close together. I step through onto bare rock and the world drops away.
Arkenhold spreads beneath me. Lights. Movement. Distant sound that doesn't reach. From here it looks almost clean. Almost honest.
It's not. Nothing down there is honest. Nothing except—
I sit at the edge. My legs hang over empty air. The drop is a thousand feet, maybe more. One shift of weight and I'd fall. Not that it would kill me. Just hurt.
The blade comes off my hip. I set it flat on the stone beside me. Parallel to my body. Close enough that my knuckles brush the bone when I breathe.
"I fucked up, Elyra."
My voice sounds wrong up here. Exposed.
"I know what you're going to say. That it was always going to happen. That I was never going to leave her alone. That you saw this coming from the moment I—"
I stop. Wait.
"No. You don't get to sound smug about this."
The wind picks up. My hair whips across my face and I shove it back.
"She smells like—"
My hand tightens on the blade.
"I don't have words. That's the problem. I don't have—fuck."
…
"What do you mean, obsession isn't the same? Since when do you get to lecture me about—"
I laugh. Sharp.
"When have I ever thought clearly? When has that ever been something I do?”
…
“Shove it up your ass."
The city pulses below. All those threads I can't see from here. All those lies happening right now, down in the smoke and the light, and I don't care about any of them.
