“Twice.”
And he’s just fine, isn’t he? I take another step. And another. If I don’t look down, I can almost convince myself I’m strolling down the street on a foggy day. Not that it’s foggy very often in Rosehill, but I remember it happening once or twice.
Keep moving forward. That’s all I need to do.
When I find Maddox, I’ll beg him to throw something over my head and carry me back across to where it’s safe and sunny and?—
A large shape materializes in the fog.
Someone is sitting on the edge of the bloody bridge.
I know it’s Maddox before I even see his face. There’s something in his shape that feels so familiar, like I could draw him from memory.
Thank heavens I didn’t have to go all the way across to find him. This is fate, indeed.
“John? Can you give us a moment, please?”
The Seelie guard stills at my back. “But the queen?—”
“I’m safe.” Maddox is here. He won’t let anything happen to me.
There’s no need to turn and check if the guard listened; the creaking of his retreating footsteps tells me we’re alone.
A leather rucksack rests on the plank next to Maddox, along with a small pile of stones. Maddox turns one over in his hand, looks out into the endless gray, and then launches the stone into the nothing.
“Hello.”
I wait for his response, but he gives me nothing. No smile. No teasing greeting. He simply picks up another rock and tosses it over the edge.
“I’m sorry, Maddox.”
His arm stills.
“I said such awful things. You didn’t deserve to be treated so abominably.”
Still, he doesn’t say anything. I miss hearing his voice. His laugh. Seeing him smile. Having him look at me as if I’m not a complete and utter disappointment.
I take another step forward and?—
The board beneath my foot lets out a deafeningcrack.
21
Maddox
“Sometimes, there is nowhere to go but down.”
— Surviving the Unseelie Lands, Author Unknown
Aterrible sound pierces the fog, like lightning striking an ancient tree, splitting it in two.
Except there is no tree, just a plank of wood beneath Nia Quill’s feet.
Nia’s wide eyes fly to mine.
My heart roars in my ears, screaming with fear. She must escape that board before it is too late. “Step forward. Slowly.” I climb to my feet, careful to keep from disturbing the bridge and making things worse.
She does not move. Her fear has made her freeze.
