Page 46 of Kingdom of Chaos
A quiet sob slips out before I can stop it, and a tear warms my cheek. Talon pulls me tighter, like he’s holding the pieces of me together when I can’t do it myself.
His fingers trail gently into my hair, and then he tips my face up. His eyes search mine—troubled, intense, unguarded.
“Don’t cry,” he says, his voice rough. His thumb brushes away the tear. “I can’t bear it.”
I stare up at him, overwhelmed. My emotions are a tangled, riotous mess, guilt and sorrow crashing against something softer, warmer, I don’t want to name. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m desperate for comfort. Or maybe it’s more than that.
I part my lips, unsure what I even mean to say, when Imogen’s voice slices through the moment from the adjoining room.
“What’s taking so long?”
The spell shatters.
Talon’s jaw tightens as he shoots an annoyed glance toward the open doorway. “Just a minute,” he calls back, voice clipped.
I slip out of his arms and cross into the next room without looking back.
It’s only once I pass the threshold that the strange fluttering low in my stomach starts to fade. I tell myself it meant nothing.That I’m vulnerable. Talon happened to be there when I needed someone. That’s all.
But deep down, a quiet voice whispers that I’m running out of ways to lie to myself.
Fourteen
“Where’s the motor?”I ask, tilting my head as I eye the flat-bottomed boat we’re about to launch into the swamp. It’s a rental that Talon and Imogen secured during their supply run yesterday. Little does the owner know that if we actually find the gate we’re looking for, there’s a good chance he’ll never see this vessel again.
“It’s right here,” Talon says, tapping the cage that houses a giant fan mounted at the back. The whole setup is welded directly onto the hull.
“I don’t get it.”
Talon chuckles at my confusion. “Swamps and marshes are too shallow for traditional boats. An airboat doesn’t use an in-water motor, it uses that propeller. It forces air behind the boat to push it forward.”
I give him a skeptical look, stepping aside as Imogen backs the Valkyrie up to position the trailer. Once the boat is in place, Talon and Titus help ease it into the murky water.
“Have you ever been on one of these?” I ask Ensley as she comes to stand beside me.
“Once,” she says. “We vacationed in the swamplands a few years ago and did a half-day fishing trip.” She chuckles. “Becks was terrible at fishing. It was hilarious watching him fail at something for once. He got so frustrated he started lobbing fireballs at the fish. Our guide freaked out and cut the trip short. Apparently, swamps are protected areas. Fire? Big no-no.”
The guys get the boat in the water successfully, and Imogen drives the trailer to a nearby parking spot.
“I remember these being really loud,” Ensley says as Talon and Titus rejoin us.
“They are,” Talon confirms. “That’s why the rental place gave us noise-canceling earmuffs.”
We leave behind any extra baggage and supplies we don’t plan to take, including the super-secret book Imogen “borrowed” from the Arcane Society. Talon and Imogen agree that it’s only a matter of time, maybe a day at most, before the Society tracks down the Valkyrie and reclaims it. Bringing such a valuable artifact through the gate felt like too big a risk.
Once we’ve unloaded what we need from the SUV, we climb aboard the airboat. Imogen, Titus, Ensley, and I take the two bench seats in the middle, while Talon settles into the raised seat at the back. From there, he’ll be steering with what looks like nothing more than a long stick connected to the massive propeller frame behind him.
“Earmuffs on,” Talon instructs, his voice clipped.
We slip them over our ears, and the world immediately falls silent. A moment later, the propeller roars to life.
Dang, it is loud. Even through the earmuffs.
Talon eases the boat into the water, navigating smoothly through the swamp’s maze of twisting rivers and pathways. The gate is supposed to be about five miles from our launch point, and Talon handles the vessel with practiced ease.
Wildlife flanks us at every turn, signs of life thriving in the marsh’s murky calm. A massive alligator, at least fifteen feet long, glides silently alongside the boat. A turtle basks on a fallen tree branch ahead, and Talon gently steers us around it. A snowy bird takes flight from a nearby cypress tree, flapping noisily. That makes five bird species I’ve counted so far.
As the boat slows, Talon signals that we can remove our earmuffs. It’s still noisy, but not unbearable. If we talk loudly, we can be heard over the propellor.
