Page 105 of Heart of the Summer Queen

Before I can decide my next move, a violent gust slams into Elaric.

Crouched dangerously over the ledge, the blast catches him off guard. He disappears from my view, without so much as a cry. I wince at the resounding crash from above. It’s only a slight relief he didn’t plummet into the chasm with me.

“Elaric!” My shout is drowned out by the echoing debris. I pray the chaos comes from the gale’s aftermath and from not his body smashing into a solid wall.

With only numb fingers clinging to the ledge, I should worry about my own predicament. Yet Elaric consumes my thoughts.

“Elaric!” I try again.

Silence falls.

Then comes the beating of wings, sweeping overhead toward the direction Elaric disappeared.

Isidore.

I glance at the sword in my hand. Without it, Elaric doesn’t stand a chance against her. I have to pull myself out of this pit before it’s too late.

I scan the wall above, looking for any grip. Most of the surface is smooth, but jagged edges protrude in some places. If I had a free hand, I might manage to reach one. But if I release the Sword of Veliantis and Isidore captures Elaric...

My gut twists at the impossible choice. I clutch harder to the wall, racking my mind for a solution.

There has to be another way.

I examine my body, searching for somewhere to secure the sword. But with no belt or sheath, my only option is wedging it between my knees and praying it doesn’t slip free.

Carefully, I reach down, moving slowly as to not disrupt my delicate balance. I tilt my legs up and wedge the sword’s flat edge firmly between my knees. I squeeze with all my might, clenching every muscle. The sword must not fall.

I stare up at the smooth wall rising before me. I’m still countless yards from the top. Scaling it would prove a great challenge even with both feet to support me. Yet to save Elaric, to end this nightmare, I have no choice but to haul myself up with my arms alone.

I spot a jagged outcrop above which offers grip. I reach up and pause as my hand closes around it, allowing my other arm a brief respite.

But I mustn’t delay. Right now, Elaric may be at Isidore’s mercy.

Bracing myself, I resume climbing. Every muscle—arms, back, shoulders—burns. I dare not make any jerky movements that could dislodge the sword. I squeeze my knees tighter together and pull myself up another precious inch.

Bit by agonizing bit, I scale the cliff with my hands alone, summoning every scrap of strength.

When I near the top, I shove the sword onto the ledge above. And then, with both hands, I shakily haul myself over.

Once on solid ground, I collapse onto my back, chest heaving as delayed exhaustion crashes into me.

I push myself to a sitting position, scanning across the square. Isidore stands on the other side of the chasm, surrounded by a dissipating flurry of hail.

Her wings and horns fade away as she shrinks back into her mortal form.

A few paces before her lies Elaric. Icy debris pins his legs. From here, I can just make out the crimson streak trailing from his temple. He barely stirs. I’m not sure if he’s conscious.

Isidore must assume the sword and I plunged into the depths. An opportunity—if I can cross this chasm and catch her unaware again. Last time I failed, but with Elaric so gravely injured, surprise is his only chance of survival.

Swaying, I stagger to my feet. I need to reach him before Isidore can hurt him any more.

I quickly survey the area, searching for a way across. About two yards from where I sit, the chasm narrows. If I get a running start, I could leap far enough to make it.

This plan will have to do. I can see no better option.

Isidore stalks toward Elaric’s unmoving form.

Clutching the sword, I rush toward the narrower part. Isidore hisses something to Elaric, but I’m too distant to hear.

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