Page 59 of Of Flame and Fate

We hit something that rebounds us backward. “Straighten us out, Emme,” Bren says. “Straighten us out,now.”

“I’mtrying,” she says, her teeth clenched tight.

We collide into something hard, causing the row of seats across of us to indent inward and a strong wind to seep in.

“Emme, that was a cliff,” Bren says, his voice growing panicked. “Go, right,right.”

Emme loses her fight with the cliff, ramming the side of the copter repeatedly as we spin.

“Hard left,” Bren yells. “Do it now.”

The crashing sound diminishes and we fly blindly through the air.

Gemini cradles my head. I think we’re going to die. We start to fall . . . and then we don’t.

“More trees—shit,” Bren says. “Emme, stay with me.”

Emme’s face is pinched tight, her hands blanching as they grip the arm rests. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. We’re almost there.” Bren curses. “Hold us—just hold us. The road, leading up, we’re almost to it.”

“How far?”

“We’re hitting the top of the trees,” he says, the sound of something smacking the underbelly confirming it. “Lower us. Now.”

“Now?” she asks.

“Yes, now!”

If giants were real, and one was holding us, the landing would be the equivalent of him dropping us in search of a less banged up toy to play with. We bump, judder, and lurch, slamming to the ground.

I don’t expect to stop so abruptly.

Who am I kidding? I don’t expect to live. For the most part, Bren’s whole “let me be your eyes” was bullshit. He’s freakingblindas far as I’m concerned.

But we made it. Yeah, baby, we made it!

I lift my chin to meet Gemini’s face. His expression mirrors mine, as if half expecting us to keep moving, falling, and crashing to our deaths. He eases off me, looking outside the window.

“Did we land?” I ask.

“Yes,” he answers.

“Are we teetering perilously on the side of a cliff?” I’m not trying to be downer, this is just the kind of luck I’ve grown accustomed to.

He shakes his head. “No, but we can’t stay here.” He looks to Emme. “Well done,” he tells her.

“You did it, Emme,” I agree. I reach to stroke her hair when Bren lifts off her. My hand pauses inches from her face when I take a good look at her.

Her small body is covered with sweat and her nose bleeding profusely. I scramble out of my seatbelt, trying to find something to use to stop the bleeding.

Bren rips the leg of his sweatpants off and presses it against her nose. “You okay?” he asks.

She nods, holding the soft gray fabric against her face. “Yes,” she stammers. “A little tired.”

And frightened, and feeble, and my God, my poor sister. Her fair skin carries a sickly pallor, made worse by the amount of blood soaking her dress and face. I want to yank her to me, protect her and keep her safe. It’s what all of us who know her ever want to do. But as sweet and delicate as Emme appears, she’s not weak, nor will she allow herself to appear that way if she can help it.

She looks at me. “I don’t think I can hike up the mountain.”

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