I buried my clothing close to the ice ridge and then squeezed underneath a large fir tree for shelter from the snowstorm. Up this high on the mountain, I did not believe this white shit ever stopped. I would not be able to live this way, even though it was breathtakingly beautiful. I damned well enjoyed the sunshine far more than the cold.
I curled in on myself to keep as warm as possible.
Then I waited with my eyes on the cliff’s edge.
My emerald gaze did not stop scanning up and down the imposing rim of the cliff, watching vigilantly for any sign of life that might pop up over the crest. The afternoon sun did not aid much in my perusal, hidden as it was, but I could at least see what I needed to for now. And every bloody time my Fae-spark flared—and it was many—I shoved power through quickly, aggravated but also relieved to know they were still climbing toward me. Because they were taking a long-damned time, the ice cliff far too perilous to scale too swiftly.
As evening sprang to life, the sun’s descent on the horizon drawing nearer, I pulled my shivering form from under the fir tree. I walked cautiously to the edge of the ice overhang, and squatted down on my haunches, placing my gloved fingers down before me onto the snowy ground for stability. The ends of my scarves blew in the breeze as I peeked over the crest, only my eyes unprotected from the cutting chill.
I squinted through the whirling snowflakes, turning my head in a slow and watchful inspection from the far left to the equally distant right side of the bluff. There was no sign of climbing rulers yet. My shoulders tensed with worry, and I stayed exactly where I was. I kept lookout the darker the sky became, the visibility even worse when the sun eventually set.
The ground trembled beneath my sock-clad feet and gloved hands, and I pitched to my left hard, hurriedly correcting my position and tightening my muscles through the quake.
Oh my Fae.Not now, not now, not now!
My Fae-spark instantly flared.
I shoved my power brutally inside that part of my Fae-spark that was distinctlyhim. My lips thinned in growing fear, keeping the stream steady in a ferocious rush, as the burn continued to scorch inside my heart—not stopping like it had every time before. I had no control over my stomach, focusing on the shifter king’s wellbeing as I was, and bent my head over the side of the ice cliff and threw up when the earthquake ended—hoping that didn’t land on any of them. No change occurred after the quake ended, the King of Shifters still injured in some way, perhaps, from that damned rope he’d mentioned he would tie around his waist in case the others fell.
My power poured into him, the only way I could help.
Sweat dotted my brow as fatigue set in, my muscles beginning to tremble. The longer it took for him to heal, the more my power drained, making my body physically weak. I curled my mitted hands into the snow, focusing all my attention on keeping the flow of my power moving where it needed to go.
I choked in a deep breath when the pull to heal him abruptly cut off, my shaking limbs relaxing. I blinked slowly and shook my head past the dizziness, searching inward for my demanding soul mate.
The King of Shifters was still alive. Fatigued. And pissed off. But very much alive. None of his emotions indicated that a ruler had perished.
I blew out a shaky breath, mumbling to myself, “Good Fae, they need to hurry the Fairy up. I can’t keep doing that.” I fell back onto my ass, the snow crunching under my weight, as my body gave up the fight in exhaustion.
The moon appeared through a break in the low hanging clouds. I stared up at it while it was visible, willing my body to heal from the exertion of so much power used for such a long period of time. I wiggled my arms and my legs, crinkling my forehead against a twinge of ache. Apparently, it was going to take a few more moments.
I patiently waited until I was completely healed and then stood. I peered over the side, but it was so difficult to see. I walked up and down the cliff’s edge, careful of where I stepped. I scrutinized the darkness, looking for even darker shapes.
On the right side, I caught sight of movement.
Crouching down once more, I held perfectly still.
I narrowed my eyes. The darker shape was coming closer.
A small smile of victory tilted my lips under the scarves covering my mouth. The top of King Athon’s head was adorned with a black, tight woolen cap, his white hair streaming beneath it. His leather clothes were just as black as his warm hat. I observed as the King of Shifters methodically sliced his claws into the ice with a solid hold each time, slowly scaling the ice.
His head tipped up, assessing how much farther the climb was. He stalled for a heartbeat, noticing me watching him. He breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring. Then his teeth flashed white in the night, a cruel, animalistic smirk before he tilted his head back down to watch what he was doing.
I stood up, straightening to my almost five feet of height when his head was close to the top. I stepped back and quickly bent at the waist to grab his back when he heaved his upper torso over the crest of the cliff. I curled my fingers into his sweat drenched shirt, holding tight to his muscled body beneath, and helped him over the edge—not that he truly needed my help after what he had just accomplished.
“Don’t fall over, elf,” he ordered darkly. He rolled onto his back, lying on top of his travel bag strapped to his back, and braced his legs on the edge of the ridge, clutching the rope that was, indeed, tied around his waist. He gripped it brutally in his hands, and his muscles bulged underneath his tight clothing, his blunt, white teeth grinding as he started to pull the others up hand over fist on the taut rope—all by his damned self. “Step back. Don’t get in the way.”
“It’s lovely to see you, too, shifter,” I muttered.
Though I did take a few huge steps back in the snow.
He grunted his response through a hard pant, not speaking as he focused on hauling the others up the side of the icy cliff, his shifter strength being put into action.
King Elon’s head topped the crest next.
I clenched my jaw, staying back as ordered.
The gorgon king pulled himself over the edge, sucking in oxygen, andhissedas he landed on top of the ridge safely.
