You’re not going to fall. Get the fucking key.
I suppressed a scream, both of terror and frustration, and flung my hand out before I could second guess myself. My fingers connected with cold metal, and a sob burst free. Disbelief and fright and relief, all layered into one sound.
“I did it,” I breathed.
Yes, you did. Now you have to get down.
No one would blame me if I stayed here and cried, right? Because that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted to cry and scream and curse the world that was so cruel that it had taken everything from me, trapped me in another twisted game of a god’s creation, and sent meDaryaof all people to keep me sane.
But I wanted solid ground under my feet even more, so I gripped the branch with my arms and lowered my legs into the air, shrieking as I swung. My shoes finally connected with the branch—five horrifying swings later.
I scrambled down the tree in a blur of panic and gasping, whining breaths, the key held in my teeth. On the lowest branch, I transferred the key in my fist and dropped to the grassy ground in a puddle of shaking limbs.
If this was the wrong key after all that… I would find a way to murder the ghost ball.
I got to my feet with remarkable grace and composure.1 I found my way back across the fairy forest into the crimson corridor with the same level of elegance and expelled a heavy sigh before I set the key to the first door.
Please, please…
Resistance met the teeth of the key, and a ragged laugh bubbled up my throat. Of course this was the wrong key. Ifucking knew it. Curling into a ball on the floor was becoming more appealing with every second.
Keep going,Darya urged, scaring the shit out of me when the glowing ball elongated into a spectral figure, her eyes narrowed on me with a challenge.Or are you a coward?
“Yup,” I said, exhausted. “Big time.”
She shrugged. Crossed her arms over her transparent chest.I thought you were better than this.
“Emotional manipulation?” I drawled. “Really?”
Yup,she replied with a baring of teeth meant to be a smile.Big time.
I glared. “I would say I liked you better as a human than a ghost, but I didn’t like you then, either.”
I’m heartbroken.She made a shooing gesture, and I sighed, dragging myself to the next door, where more failure waited. The same happened at the next three doors, the key meeting a dull thud of resistance if it even fit into the lock.
“Wouldn’t a helpful ghost know which of these doors the key fit?” I asked, slanting a look at Darya as she floated after me, looking as haughty and refined as I remembered, her hair the same sleek fall, her eyes the same glaring slant. The only difference was her moon-pale skin and the fact I could see through her to the floor.
What do I look like?she huffed.Fucking Casper?
I shrugged, unwilling to admit that bickering was helping my energy regather, my strength rebuild. “If the luminescent, ghostly cap fits.”
Bitch,she sniped, the word less heard than sensed, echoing all around me.
I was about to return the sentiment when the key slid easily into the next lock and—click.
My eyes shot to Darya; her eyes widened first in surprise, then crinkled in a grin.
I fucking told you so!
“Why did you look so surprised? You herded me up that tree and to every damn door in this hallway and youweren’t even sure the lock would open.”
She shrugged.It was an educated guess. You’re welcome.
“I’m going to bring you back to life so I can kill you all over again,” I hissed, but drew my attention from her to open the door.
It didn’t creak; it opened with eerie silence, and there was the chessboard, in a state of disarray. Black chess pieces splayed across the checkerboard, the robes utterly still. So were others—so many others. Stalkers, judging by their dark uniform of austere black coat and trousers, as if they were emulating Orwell’s costume.
Best of luck,Darya said, and seemed to mean it which was probably the most shocking thing to happen today. And itwasstill today—it was the same game, the same board, the same thrones and stand full of spectators. And my men were there, right on the other side.Kill those pricks.
