Ahead of me, Alize dashed past the crevice that had claimed Garrick. She did not pause; did not look back; did not say a word, unless she carried that away on a magical wind as well. If she said a prayer for the man she’d known, however they were connected, I could not hear it.
She disappeared through the gate.
Rilk and I were the only ones left. My fall had cost me. He’d closed the gap between us, the crevices driving us together for a second round of what had begun on the wall. Except now we were both more exhausted and more desperate.
I pushed every bit of stubbornness and anger into my legs and lungs. Kyrelle would not die because my body was not strong enough. Maura would not get the last laugh, sentencing me to death in the gates. I deserved more and I would take it.
I will fucking take it.
But my foot stuck in the first crack of a new crevice, sending me sprawling across the ice. I scrambled for purchase, trying to slow my slide, but the ice was so slick. What was left of my fingernails ripped, blood leaked down my cheek, the cut from earlier ripping even further.
Dark God, save me.
By his gift or some other, my belt snagged on an uneven chunk of ice. My body jerked back, the inertia of every pound protesting the yank. A sound perilously close to a sob broke from my chest.
My right arm dangled over the edge of a crevice. But the rest of me was on solid ice, for the moment. For a half second, I contemplated just letting the ice have me. The bravado of a few seconds earlier was gone. It would be so much easier to just stay there and give in to the exhaustion. The cold had already claimed my life once before. It was a fitting end.
I felt that dangerous numbness of disassociation begin to spread through my body as I stared over the edge into the abyss.
From the deep crevice, a pair of blue-green eyes stared back.
“Hello, wicked witch.”
“You’re alive,” I rasped, the words scraping over my throat. Even that was raw—which reminded me of every single place on my body that was, as well. So much for giving in to the numbness.
An ominous groan echoed from the depths of the crevice.
“Not for long,” Garrick said.
I almost laughed. Which would have been cruel. But it was Garrick’s fault, because he was right. He dangled from a ledge about two feet below the top of the ice where my body lay, ignoring my directions to get the fuck up. If I did not manage to get myself moving, either Rilk or the ice would claim my life.
Knowing all of that, there was no accounting for what I did next.
I reached down my hand.
Garrick didn’t give me time to second guess myself. He swung up one of his arms, latching on to my wrist with his much larger hand. His fingertips dug into my arm so hard I could not have released him if I’d wanted to.
I thought my muscles were screaming before? Garrick had a foot of pure muscle on me. Even with him clinging to the side of the crevice, trying to help haul himself upward, every muscle and joint in my body protested.
“You’re too fucking heavy,” I groaned. I wasn’t going to drop him. He was going to rip my arm right off.
“Brace your shoulder so it doesn’t pop out of the socket,” he demanded.
Demanded, as if he was not the one dangling over a certain death, and me, his savior.
The ice groaned again. We were out of time.
I just was not strong enough, at least not physically. But another part of me was.
I freed my other hand from bracing my shoulder and threw it down, nearly colliding with Garrick’s face. But he did not flinch as power filled the air. A ledge of solid ice formed beneath his feet. Then another, six inches up. And another and another. I built him a staircase, and he climbed right out. Most importantly, he did not rip my arm off.
Nor did he release it.
He pulled me to my feet, head whipping side to side as he assessed our situation. Even that was too much time. The ice beneath our feet splintered. “Run.”
My body obeyed his command without question.
Even so, it wasn’t fast enough.
