But I’m already moving, quick and sure now, fingers gliding along rope, memorizing the pattern. He’s stoppedgiving me directions, which is honestly a relief. It's easier to concentrate without them.
Petal’s hands brush blindly near me. “Ren?”
“Here.” I grab her wrist and guide her hand to the hem of my shirt at the base of my spine. “Grab on and follow me. Don’t let go.”
She gasps, fisting the fabric. “You little genius!”
Behind us, Rosamund shrieks, “Are you leaving me?!”
“Yes,” Petal and I say together.
“But don’t worry,” I add. “Pretty boy’s got you.”
He’s got us too, honestly. Once he realizes we can use the ropes as a guide, he does as I asked and only calls out what direction we need to turn when we hit a gap. The orders are blissfully direct.
Right.
Left.
Forward.
Left.
Forward.
Forward.
And then…
“Pix!”
Courtland’s voice is right above me now, delighted and scandalized at once. My hand makes contact with a smooth plank of wood, and not rough rope.
“Holy shit! You made it! Both of you!”
Petal slides her hands off my body and grabs the base of the platform, giggling. “Ren dragged me!”
I rip the blindfold off, blinking up at Courtland on his platform, hair wind-tousled, grin feral and proud.
He looks down at me like I’ve hung the moon and my heart lurches.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
“Pixie,” he says, breathless with awe, “remind me never to doubt you again.”
My cheeks burn.
He extends a hand down to me—to us. “Get up here. Let’s see if we can herd our lost lamb.”
Behind us, I can hear Rosamund wailing for some kind of direction.
Petal moves first, sliding her hand into his and allowing him to pull her up and onto the platform like she weighs nothing.
Then he does the same to me. My body moves on instinct, muscle memory. A thousand leaps and holds with mypas de deuxpartner, making me jump a little to help, muscles tensing to hold form as I have a moment of weightlessness, where I have to trust him to not drop me.
And I do.
And he doesn’t.
