Clay girls and boys
my favorite toys!
Soon they’ll come together
And she will choose
and you will lose
to a clod tied to a feather
This great oaf was meant to be the clod, then? Excellent. And Cyrus had clearly infuriated him by refusing to fall.
With an angry shout, Kamran released a volley of arrows in Cyrus’s direction, one after another, the succession so smooth they seemed to come at him all at once. Even then Cyrus was able to appreciate his enemy’s skill; the Ardunian was an accomplished archer. Cyrus bit through a fresh wave of torment, lifting his good arm to divert a bit of magic in his own defense, dissolving the incoming arrows while still healing his wounds. He was preoccupied with this – this and the effort to keep steady in the face of the many small deaths aimed in his direction – which was why he didn’t notice, not right away,that she was running toward him.
When he did, he nearly lost his mind.
He watched the whirl of her draw closer and went light-headed with rage; he could hardly breathe around the feeling, so extraordinary was his anger. Alizeh had clearly spent the last of her strength, using what little energy she had left to rush at him with great speed – but whatever she’d thought she might achieve, she’d miscalculated, for she was not fully in control of her movements. He wanted nothing more than to shout at her for doing something so foolish. He couldn’t fathom that she’d thought him worth such an effort, that she’d risk her own safety to spare his life. It made him want to do unforgivable things.
Indeed this anger might’ve been the only thing he and the stupid prince agreed upon, for Kamran’s earsplitting cry of terror came just as Hazan and the others erupted in frenzied sound. Cyrus managed a choked cry before her soft body crashed into him, momentum rocking them both toward the very edge of the cliff, and if only there’d been time he would’ve pushed her out of harm’s way, would’ve turned her in his arms –
With a sharpthwackthe last arrow found its mark between her shoulder blades. Alizeh flinched under the force of impact, and her small, startled gasp rendered Cyrus absolutely, inhumanly still.
Panic inhaled him.
He felt blind with it, blind with madness. Alizeh whispered something incomprehensible against his neck, and he closed his eyes against a destructive swell of emotion,wishing desperately that he’d never been born. He didn’t realize at any point that he’d stumbled, that he’d lost his footing, or that they were falling – not until he felt the wind, like a heavy hand, rise up beneath them.
And then let them drop.
ELEVEN
CYRUS ALLOWED HIMSELF ONLY Asecond to touch grief before his spine straightened as if wrenched taut, like the laces of a drawstring. The wind formed almost a cocoon around them, thick as it lashed their bodies, the calls of morning birds clashing with the thunderous crash of the falls. A heavy mist ensnared them as they plummeted, and though Alizeh shivered, Cyrus couldn’t feel the chill; fear and fury seemed to be burning him alive. He’d just made a decision, and now he would see it through.
Alizeh would not die.
“Look at me,” he said wretchedly, pulling her close even as his torn hand shook in agony. It seemed some strange twist of fate that he should continue to bleed all over her, and if he’d more time to reflect on this fact he might’ve screamed for how much he hated it. “Alizeh. Please. Lift your head.Look at me.”
With great effort, she did.
Her eyes were glazed, flickering silver and brown in the rising light. She studied him like he might’ve been a dream. “Why? Because you’re terribly handsome?”
“Don’t be funny,” he said, breathing hard. “This isn’t funny.”
She blinked, her head lolling softly to one side. “I can’t feel my legs.”
His heart heaved in his chest. That she’d lost sensation in her lower body meant the arrowhead had impaled her spine. Briefly, the southern king turned his gaze to the churning sea. They were falling at a dizzying clip, but the drop was so steep it was almost a mercy: they’d have nearly a minute before hitting water. If Cyrus had any hope of saving her he’d have to perform complicated magic before they made impact – but he was going slightly blind, his vision occasionally flaring with light. Worse, he was losing sensation in his left hand.
“Kaveh!” he called out.
The response was almost immediate. Cyrus heard the clamor of surging, crashing waves before they broke open to reveal the bulk of a shimmering dragon, its fiery hide emerging from the depths like a flame in flight. Every one of Cyrus’s dragons was precious to him, but there were three in particular he loved as if they were his own family.
Kaveh was one of them.
By far the most sardonic of the fleet, Kaveh was also one of his oldest dragons, and Cyrus knew he would require the animal’s careful expertise now, perhaps more than ever.
“Cyrus,” said Alizeh suddenly, half gasping the word. “Where are you?”
His body was shaking as he held her, and he found he was grateful she’d turned away again, that she couldn’t see his face. “I’m here,” he said roughly. “I’m right here.”
