Page 92 of A Girl and HER Prince
Venice leaned his head back into the crumbling rock, cursing under his breath.
Livvy was going down that fishbowl on her own. He’d been the fool to put that in her head.
Chapter Thirty-one
Livvy’s fingers shook on the rope, finishing off the ties against the pine tree. “You held us up on our way into this mess of an island,” she whispered into its branches. “Now you’ve got to get me back down there.”
She tugged on the rope. It was secure. This was going to work.
Fortunately, she had more clothes this time around, though the red billowing shirt she’d borrowed from Achilles’s mother was stretched out, waterlogged, covered in sawdust and dirt and more. Livvy suspected that she resembled a mud wrestler more than a graphic designer.
She lowered the rope down to the ground. The flashlight was tied to the end of it. The rope would have to carry it until she could get to the bottom.
Livvy squeezed through the prickly branches and pushed her bare toes into the smooth surface of the hard limestone bluffs. Normally, she’d take her time, but keeping Venice alive made her do crazy things and she was racing against time. He’d looked so worn and pale behind his olive complexion when they’d parted.
Bracing herself against the rope, she lowered down, faster than she’d ever tried to rappel before.
Not that this was rappelling, it was more like climbing down the rope in gym class, with a few depressions and protrusions to support her feet on the way down.
Her vest was on the dry bank far below her shaking legs, along with her fins, mask, and air tank. It felt like almost a lifetime ago when Venice had helped her zip on her vest with fingers that had grown so familiar to her, and with those startling hazel Tyndarian eyes studying her. Every part of him was now so dear.
“Please let him survive, God!”She couldn’t do this alone.“Please helpmesurvive! Get me through these tunnels.”
She had to radio out and get them help before he bled out. She wished she’d taken the time to bandage him up, but his uncle was almost on them, and she knew that Venice would never go along with what she was doing.
What if he tried to break down that temporary barrier she’d made so he could go after her?
Don’t do something stupid, Venice! I’ll never forgive you if you make this terrifying descent in vain!
Her palms felt raw under the rope. She’d known they would. Rope climbing had never been her jam. In elementary school, she always got caught halfway up the rope and left swinging like a forgotten leaf on a trembling twig.
That wasn’t going to happen this time. Venice was depending on her.
You’re brave! You’re brave! You’re brave!She traveled down further, hand over hand, supporting her weight against the wall, and then balancing against the rope so she could find another depression with her feet. Her body was jerking around like a maniacal puppet on strings.
How did rock climbers make this look so effortless?
Her hands slipped. She cried out, clinging harder to the rope, even as the tough bristles scraped down her palms. Refusing to let go even with this pain slicing through her hands, she scrambled for some footing. Her bare toe jammed into a rock. It really hurt! And yet stubbing her toe had saved her. She clung to the rope, whimpering, just like that leaf she’d always been.
“Don’t be a wimp!” she shouted at herself. “You’re doing this! You’re doing this because this matters. Venice has to live!”
Her absolute terror made her abandon any hysterical thoughts that bad guys were eavesdropping on her little inner monologue about now. Her absolute stubbornness was keeping her from falling—maybe even her fear of pain. Breaking her body against the hard rock below would be horrible!
Venice wasn’t going to find her as a crumpled heap on the bottom of this cliff. None of them were. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to move downward again, this time not budging until she found some other protrusion or crevice with her toes.
It was excruciatingly slow and nauseating. She neared the ground and, with a sigh of relief, saw that it was safe to drop. Telling her hands to let the rope go was a different story. Her toes actually had to brush past the dangling flashlight and press against the ground before she could get her fingers to release.
“Ahh.” She let out an agonized moan as she unbent her chafed fingers. They bled freely. No time for babying them. She swung around.
Oh! Her legs were shaking. What was her problem? She hadn’t even gotten to the dive yet. Feeling dizzy with fear, Livvy grappled with her vest. The tank felt so heavy now. She checked the gauges, seeing it was only half full. Of course, it was! It hadn’t magically filled up over the past few days.
Already heavy with exhaustion, Livvy wrestled on the strap of the weight belt. The vest carrying the air tank was a different story. She dragged it to the water. She’d have to get creative to get that on by herself.
Putting on her fins, she dropped into the water. “Ah!” The salt! It stung her bleeding palms and fingers. Her toes! The briny water found every crack in her skin. What had poor Venice been going through every time they’d gone into the sea? She could only hope the adrenaline shooting through him had numbed his pain.
Well, it certainly wasn’t doing the trick forher.
Sucking in her breath, she backed into the vest. Years of struggling mattresses down the stairs without alerting her parents to sibling slumber parties had taught her to use her back like a pack animal. Crazy what life hacks you learned when you had to keep things quiet during Christmas Eve.
