When he finally lifts his head, the blue of his eyes has returned, but there’s something haunted in them that turns my stomach. “Something’s wrong. We weren’t supposed to meet like this. These rogues shouldn’t have been here, either. I don’t think it’s safe for you to return to Caer Draen.”
Icy rain slashes down from above, making me shiver uncontrollably, and impossibly, the wind seems to have grown fiercer. His words, on top of all this, are what destroys my failing grip on my composure. I’ve had enough of this whole stars-damned mess.
I want my bed. I want dry clothes and a hot bath and the familiar sounds of the city humming through me like a song.
“They were here for you, exile,” I say as wickedly as I can. “And hopefully more will come soon, because I won’t save your life next time.”
Taliesin moves before I can blink.
The manacle snaps around my wrist again. The kiss of metal burns like fire. I clench my teeth and glare at him, hoping hecan see the hate in my eyes. This is twice he’s trapped me now. Whatever it takes, there won’t be a third.
I don’t care what it costs me. I will not be caged.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
He sighs heavily. “Fuck you right back, Swynwraig.”
By the time I glimpse the tower’s triangular roof through the gloom, I’m so soaked and frozen I can barely see straight, and I’m not entirely convinced I’m not imagining it. We must have crossed into the exiled, warded lands by now. But there was no shift in the air. No scent of magic. Nothing at all.
I knew the wards had failed, but it still unnerves me to see the proof.
The tower spirals into the dark clouds from where it perches on a singular cliff, separated from the mainland by a rope bridge that shudders in the wind. Every window is a sea of black, and tendrils of rot crawl across the stone like twisting vines. A fork of lightning suddenly illuminates the world, revealing the sharp drop to the sea. A tremor of unease goes through me. It’s impossible to tell where the tower ends and the cliff begins.
Taliesin doesn’t slow as we approach the bridge. Up close, I can see the frayed edges, the rotting planks. I try to dig in my feet, but it’s no use. My boots skid along the mud, unable to find purchase. Panic drives through me like a sword, and as we pass the bridge’s post, I throw my arms around it.
The chain pulls taut between us. Taliesin jerks to a stop, one foot on the bridge, and frowns over his shoulder at me. Wind batters his rain-slick hair to his face, and his eyes hold storm clouds of their own.
“We need to get inside!” he shouts over the thunder. Even still, I can barely hear his words.
“That bridge doesnotlook safe,” I snarl back.
“Is the Swynwraig scared?” A feral grin lights his face. Andthere—there it is. That’s the exile I’ve heard so many stories about. Another crash of lightning splits the sky behind him, only amplifying the effect. There’s a wild, animalistic edge to him he’s hidden so well.
But I’m in his territory now. Why bother with a mask?
I loosen my hold on the post, my mouth suddenly dry. What if this is all some kind of trap?
He tugs the chain, and I don’t resist. My heart hammers my ribs as I step to the edge of the bridge. His hands find my waist, guiding me to stand in front of him. Leaning down, he presses his mouth against my ear, sending an unwanted shiver down my spine.
“Walk,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin.
I step onto the swinging bridge, wincing when the boards tilt beneath my feet. Taliesin’s hands hold me steady. His broad chest presses against my back, like a shield against the wind. A bud of warmth blooms in my chest, even as my anger has me wishing I’d stolen back my dagger earlier. Yes, he’s helping me across, but none of this would be necessary if he’d just let me go.
We move slower I’d like. At the other end of the bridge, the safety of the tower awaits. I take step after careful step, achingly aware of Taliesin’s firm hold around my waist.
Another gust of wind rushes at us from the side. The bridge surges to the right. I cry out, but the sound dies in my throat. Taliesin’s arm slides around my middle, holding me flush against him. He grips the rope with his other hand, his knuckles turning white. The bridge swings wildly. The world around us seems to spin, like it’s caught up in the winds of a hurricane. Stars,is it?
Asnapcracks through the air. The sound reverberates down the bridge, and the boards beneath us shiver.
Horror rakes through me. Something broke.
11
Taliesin hoists me onto his shoulder, the chains rattling like thunder.
And then he runs.
I clutch his back, peering through the hair plastered to my face, to see the post I was just holding snapped in half, like a bolt of lightning struck it. Rope threads break free, unravelling. In moments, the whole thing is going down. And us along with it. I dig my fingers into Taliesin’s back, shaking.
