Even the campfire beside us had stilled. Flames frozen like orange glass.
What the hell?
Caterpillar knelt on the ground where they’d been holding him, his bruised face slack with shock. “Curious…most curious.”
My gaze shot to the trees. To the branch ten stories up where I’d left Alice.
She stood with one hand stretched toward the clearing, her face pale with disbelief. Her head turned toward me, eyes wide with shock.
She did this. She didn’t even know she could. Hell, I didn’t think she could do this.
I grabbed Caterpillar’s arm and hauled him to his feet. The arrow shifted in my side, and I bit back a scream. “We have to move. Her magic is unstable—this could end any second.”
"Who…is…she?" The words came slow, deliberate.
"Alice. No time to explain."
He tilted his head, studying me through half-lidded eyes, lingering on the blood spreading across my shirt. Then his gaze drifted to the arrow jutting from my side. "You…shouldn't fly…with that."
“Don’t have a choice.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and launched into the air.
The movement drove the arrow deeper. White-hot agony tore through me. My vision blurred. I nearly dropped him.
My wings faltered. We dipped toward the frozen soldiers below.
I couldn’t do this. Not with an arrow buried in my ribs.
Pain ripped through me—deeper, sharper. Black spots danced across my vision.
My wings gave out.
The ground rushed up to meet us. I hit hard, knees first, the impact driving the arrow deeper. I couldn’t hold back the scream.
Caterpillar spilled from my arms, rolling across the dirt.
I panted, each breath a knife in my ribs. “I’m... I’m sorry.”
Caterpillar rolled onto his knees, then staggered upright. His cuffed hands made it awkward, but he managed. He looked down at me with infuriating calm.
“Sorry?” He exhaled slowly. “An interesting word. Are you sorry for dropping me, or sorry for the arrow in your side?”
“The bindings—” I gasped. “I need to break your bindings.”
“Yes. That would be…helpful.” He turned, presenting his cuffed wrists. “Do try not to remove my hands. I’m rather attached to them.”
I unsheathed my sword, hands shaking. “Can you move your arms back further?”
“The question is not whether I can.” He shifted his wrists. “The question is whether you believe you can make the cut.”
I gritted my teeth. Even now—bleeding, half-dead, surrounded by frozen soldiers—he couldn’t just give a straight answer.
“I don’t have time for riddles, Caterpillar.”
“You have exactly as much time as you choose to take.” His voice was steady, unhurried—as if we weren’t surrounded by frozen soldiers and running out of time. “Now, do you believe?”
I wanted to strangle him. Instead, I steadied my blade and swung.
The chains fell away.
