“We have some things to discuss,” he said at last, palm settling between my shoulder blades.
I let out a stuttered breath. “What things?”
“What I have to say is only for your ears, when you’re not distracted by your cousin flying,” he murmured. “I can feel you worrying. Once we’re alone, we’ll talk.”
My worry only grew, when I recognized the words.
I’d said something similar to him right before we left for the entrance of the crater, after our first night together.
We’d never gotten a chance for that discussion. Truthfully, I wasn’t in a rush to emotionally torment myself with that conversation, which would inevitably bring to light all of my worst fears, the ones which had shamed and guilted me into silence so far.
But I’d promised him an explanation. It seemed the time had come for it.
“That night,” I began. “Something odd happened, but–”
Another powerful gust of wind yanked Dax lower.
He was approaching the ground fast.
Too fast.
I took a step forward, as if I could catch him in my arms. Beside me, Ryker tensed as well.
Before our very eyes, Dax’s feet connected with the lake’s ice for the briefest moment, stirring the layer of snow which had settled over it. In a scatter of snowflakes, Dax was dragged back up into the air, before he descended once more.
This time, he glided on the ice at a speed which bent the wings back. But the sky didn’t pull him back up again.
Ryker and I both relaxed as Dax’s figure hunched in the center of the lake.
Safe.
Probably freezing, but safe.
Dax raised his arms in the air, wings stirring with the motion. His roar of success was so loud, it fought the wind itself to reach us.
But just as I sighed in relief, the ice split open with a screech and the darkness swallowed Dax.
Chapter 9
Allie
The howling wind swallowed my scream.
I ripped myself from Ryker’s embrace, fighting the mounds of snow as I rushed to the edge of the hill.
In the distance, Dax struggled to grab onto the ice's edge, the tips of his wings jerking in and out of the water.
Each time he managed to reach out, another shard of ice broke, like the lake was taunting him in his final moments.
Sparks of dark blue power shot from his arms, but nothing other than gargled shouts escaped his shocked lungs.
The icy water was silencing him.
“Dax!” I roared, my own blue light bursting out of my wrists. “I call upon the winds, harden the ice, bind the fractures. Hold, until he climbs.”
The gusts rolled and twisted around me. They plunged toward the lake, carving a path through the snow. The blast squeezed out the dregs of energy I had, ravenous as if someone–or something–else was greedily draining me.
In the chaos, I lurched forward, dangerously close to the steep rim.
