Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
I hold my breath when he drops all his weight onto it, and thank Dunne, it doesn’t give. He rocks his body backward, then swings forward, letting go at the height of his arc and landing on the other side of the rope.
This might work.
“And suddenly this is the Gauntlet, not Parapet,” Sloane mutters.
“Easy,” Ridoc says, then pivots to face me and holds out his arms. “Let’s go, Vi. I’ll even catch you.”
“Fuck off.” I lift my middle finger but grin across the haze at him. “I’m really hoping you’re right-handed,” I say to Luella.
She nods.
“Good. That hilt is eight inches—”
“Seven,” Dain corrects.
“Imagine a man actually shortening a girl’s estimate,” Maren teases.
I can’t help but smile. “Right. Seven inches. Just have to jump far enough to grab it, then swing across like Ridoc.”
Luella looks at me like I told her we’ll be climbing the rest of this cliff by hand.
“Want me to go first?” I offer.
She nods.
“Please take the dizziness and I swear I’ll build you a bigger temple in Aretia,” I pray to Dunne. But maybe that plea should be aimed at Zihnal, because damn do we need some luck. Butterflies attack my stomach.
“You’re sure?” Dain asks.
I level a glare at him.
“You’re sure.” He restates it as fact, then backs up to give me more room.
I bounce up on the balls of my feet, then spring forward, planting that last step just before the rope and leaping toward the hilt.
I feel every beat of my heart marking time as I’m airborne.
Reach it. Reach it. REACH IT!
My right hand makes contact first, and I grip hard, slamming my left into the available space and holding tight as my body swings so I don’t fly forward and trigger the trap.
“You’ve got this!” Ridoc shouts, holding out his arms.
“I will kick you in the face if you try to catch me!” I warn.
He grins and backs up a few steps as I take breath after breath, pushing back the blackening edges of my vision with sheer will, refusing to let the dizziness win.
I will not fucking die today.
Rocking my body back, I start to swing just like I’m on a Gauntlet obstacle, whipping my feet forward and back. When I have enough momentum, I mutter another prayer and let go, flying toward that rope line.
I hit the other side, and pain explodes in my knees as I fall forward, catching myself with my palms. You made it, you made it, you made it, I chant, forcing the pain into a neat little box and shoving a lid over it and stumbling to my feet. A quick sweep of hands tells me I haven’t dislocated my kneecaps, though the left argues that it came damn close to abandoning ship.
“See?” I force a smile to my face and turn. “You can do it.”
Maren pats Luella on the shoulder, and whatever she says makes the smaller flier nod as I back up, moving toward the center of the ledge and giving her space to land.
She takes the obstacle just like I did, her feet kicking for distance before she reaches the hilt and holds tight.
“There you go!” I shout. “Now swing until you feel you have the force to carry you.”
“I can’t!” she cries out. “My hands are slipping!”
Shit.
“You can,” Dain encourages. “But you’d better move now.”
“Move, Luella!” Maren yells.
Luella starts the same rocking pattern Ridoc and I used, swinging her feet to gain momentum, then lets go.
I hold my breath as she hurtles toward the line of safety.
Her feet land just before the rope and her eyes lock on mine, widening with terror as she throws herself forward, like the trap won’t notice her misstep if she’s quick enough.
Oh, fuck. Maybe Dain’s wrong. Maybe the trap is twelve inches before the rope line. Maybe she’s in the clear. Maybe we all are.
But clearly I have prayed to the wrong god.
Everything somehow slows and yet happens at once.
Luella dives forward, hurling her body where she was looking—at me instead of Cibbelair—and I barely have time to open my arms before she impacts, driving me backward at an angle into Visia…toward the edge of the cliff.
“Vi!” Ridoc shouts.
I try to pivot, to heave as much of our weight toward the safety of the wall as I can, but there’s not enough time or strength, and we flounder, tangled in one another.
Feet trip other feet, and I start to fall. We all do.
A hand grasps the waistband of the back of my leathers and pulls, changing the direction of my fall. Ridoc. My feet lose traction as my momentum shifts, and I hit my knees near the edge of the cliff just in time to see Visia and Luella start to slide over.
And I can no longer stop time.
“No!” I scramble forward, rock scraping over my torso, and throw out my arms, reaching for whoever is closest as a sound like gushing wind rushes over my head.