And once you find Kari, then you can turn your attention to Aylin.
“Anchor yourself to me,” Bael instructs, taking some rope from his pack and unrolling it. Tugging me closer, he makes short work of binding us together, testing the give in the ropes so firmly that his biceps bulge. “Let’s go.”
He takes three steps and I don’t.
The rope snaps tight.
Right. I need to move. Sweat dampens the back of my neck as I take my first step.
“What’s wrong?” he calls over his shoulder, strolling across the bridge ahead of me as if he’s on solid ground.
I stare straight ahead, sweat dampening my upper lip as I concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. “I don’t like heights.”
“I’ve seen you climb to the top of the Labyrinth walls to get a good view of your surroundings.”
“That’s different. I’m in control when I’m climbing…” The bridge sways and I swallow. “And it’s… when there’s nothing under my feet. When one step sideways could send me plummeting?—”
Fuck, fuckity, fuck. I freeze as another blast of wind sends us swinging.
“Tell me what else you don’t like,” he says, holding out his hand toward me.
There’s something tempting about that outstretched hand.
“I don’t like Bride Hunts,” I reply, slowly reaching forward and curling my fingers around his. “I hate pyres and the stink of smoke. I despise men in white cloaks. I fucking loathe the Beast of Kerawan?—”
“What did he do to you?”
The bridge sways beneath me and I close my eyes, nostrils flaring. “Later, definitely later. I’m trying to concentrate.”
“I hate porridge,” he proclaims, which jerks my eyelid open again.
“What? Why?”
“Because I spent years suffering through it on the campaign trail.” He grimaces. “If I never eat porridge again, it will be too soon. Your turn.”
“I’m terrified of spiders?—”
“Spiders?” His tone mocks me as he leads me, step-by-step to the edge of the bridge. “But they’re so little.”
“Little? Not where I come from.” I shudder, trying not to look at the other side. We’re so close… “And their hairy legs… Nope, nope, nope.”
Wind gusts through the canyon, sending the bridge swaying again.
“Bael,” I blurt, clinging to his hand.
“I like your scent,” he says suddenly. “I like the way you say my name. I like the sound of your laughter.”
“What?”
“You’re beautiful,” he continues. “Beautiful and fierce and… I like the way we work together.”
My cheeks burn. I’m a big, bad huntress, and I’m blushing like an inexperienced maiden. I default to my usual sarcasm in order to deflect the sudden turn the conversation has taken. “Are you sure you’re not trying to get into my breeches? That was quite charming.”
Bael stills, his head snapping up as if he hears something I don’t.
I can’t see anything, but the way he reacts has my senses on high alert. “What’s wrong?”
Bael slowly looks up.
