A rumble tore through the room, drilling into my ears, my bones. The glacier was shaking. A massive crack splintered a wall. I didn’t stop. I wanted to be the monster, be the darkness, and I never, ever wanted to be powerless again.
Chunks of ice broke off the ceiling. The glassy shards rained down, bouncing off my head and shoulders. The floor shuddered as if the glacier were shifting.
Something rustled in my heart. A warning. If I continued, this dungeon would collapse, and we’d both be done for.
I released the magic with a gasp, my elbows dropping bonelessly to my sides. I stumbled back until I hit the ladder, the floor slick but free of the smelly, stagnant pool.
“No wonder…” Kistuleitarinn hacked and coughed. “I see why she keeps you now.”
With one hand gripping the torch, the other a rung of the ladder, I hoisted myself up the narrow chute, not daring to look back. When I reached the next floor, I ran.
Slipping, sliding, slamming into walls.
Hair unbound, skin prickling, coat waterlogged.
I finally reached the first floor. Sprinting over the snow-padded cobblestone, the faintest whisper of my name stopped me in my tracks.
Chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths, I moved my chin ever so slightly, until the corner of my gaze met his.
Ryder’s eyes went wide. For a heartbeat, there in the depth of blackness, I found a trace of golden green. Mouth gaping open, he moved to speak.
Maybe I was lonely, maybe I was scared, but he still ignited a wanting part of me.
I started running again, his words lost to the wind. Up the staircase, up through the bleak darkness that didn’t ease or give any hint of whether I was nearing the world once more. Only then did I remember that sound I’d heard in the Dead Man’s Zone, the clanging of metal—of an iron door slamming shut.
I was truly hoping I’d just been imagining things, but as I tore through the archway, frost covered everything. Still, even slipping on each step as if they’d been cut into the ice themselves, I thrust myself right up to the locked door.
I banged on the metal, screaming, cursing, my knuckles turning bloody and numb.
No one answered.
Where was Flóki?
Source prickled my skin, or maybe that was the cold cutting off my circulation.
Pressing my palms against the flat face of the door, I pushed, using every bit of strength I had left. It flung open. I bounded up and out, like a bat out of hell.
There was no one there.
I sank to my knees. Finally, I was out of that horrific pit of blackness.
The first signs of a pink dawn streaked the sky, stirring an emotion in me that made my eyes sting. I caught the silhouette of someone down the hall, drawing nearer. It must be on the hour mark exactly: the changing of the guard. I had to get out of there before anyone found me.
Spine curling, I hacked out a phlegmy cough, the gash on my thigh and the bruise on my tailbone pounding with each flex of my lungs.
I welcomed the pain, because even if I was hurting, I was alive. I was free.
Light crept over my cheeks. I inhaled the fresh air as if I’d been starved of it.
How long had I been in there for?
Bed. I needed a bed, and a bath—I glanced at the wound on my leg, already festering—and probably an antibiotic.
Shivering, sopping, I rose to my feet and walked towards the elevator.
In this part of the castle, nobody else was in sight, but I knew a piece of that haunting darkness followed me back to my rooms—and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face it.
Chapter 25
