Page 81 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
"Enola!" Her name tore from my throat. She’d come!
She didn't respond, already drawing another arrow and shooting another beast. Then she leaped from the ladder with fluid grace, landing in a crouch on the barren ground. Behind her, more figures climbed from the portal pit—her soldiers. They poured up like water surging from a fountain, attacking the chitter hounds at once.
I would have laughed with relief if not for struggling just to stay upright and move forward.
The soldiers moved with practiced efficiency, spreading out to engage the creatures. Steel clashed against bone. Battle cries mingled with the clicking screams of the hounds. Enola moved through the chaos like a dancer, her arrows finding their marks with lethal precision.
Behind us, the column gave another violent shudder. The crack widened, splitting with a sound like thunder. Stone ground against stone in a terrible grinding roar.
"Move!" Vetle's voice rasped in my ear, dragging my attention back. "We have to move now! Fly! Go!"
I forced my legs forward, each step an agony of effort. The vines constricted tighter, and the draining sensation pulsed again, threatening to drag me under. Only Vetle kept me upright, kept me moving.
The fae pulling the ropes from above shouted to one another, their wings straining as they fought to maintain their grip. More had joined them now, a dozen at least, all of them pulling with desperate strength.
Another step. Then another. Still another eight feet to go!
Cracks spread like lightning, shooting beneath my feet down the remnant of the bridge to the solid ground again.
No!
One moment solid stone pressed against my feet, and the next there was nothing. My stomach ripped into my throat as I plummeted, the scream ripping from my lungs lost in the howling wind.
Vetle clamped tighter around me as we plunged, dropping fast—fast—too fast—the chasm's hungry darkness rising to swallow us.
His wings beat frantically, fighting against the downdraft that clawed at us from below. Each stroke was weaker than the last, his body trembling with effort. The vines dragged us down, the wind shrieking past.
Aerithyn's face materialized in the swirling darkness below—massive, translucent, desperate. Her mouth opened in a mind-numbing wail that vibrated through my bones.
A raw scream tore out of me as Vetle's wings strained, each beat more labored than the last. The vines constricted tighter, and another wave of draining magic pulsed through us both. He shuddered, his grip loosening for just a heartbeat before he tightened it again. Then he shot us toward the side of the chasm instead of straight up.
I understood and reached out, groping for a handhold. My fingers scraped against rough stone, finding a shallow crack. I dug in, my broken hand screaming in protest as I tried to help anchor us. Vetle's wings beat again, and he dragged us upward and then struck the stone fully.
The impact drove the air from my lungs. Pain exploded across my shoulder, but we'd stopped falling. For now.
Vetle snarled in a last attempt of strength and forced his wings down harder and then up, ripping into the air. I snagged the coarse rock, digging my fingers into the side and gripping with my feet. The dress snagged and tore. Adrenaline shot through my veins as I crawled up the wall. Vetle moved alongwith me. His wings shoved down and pushed us up again. The vines tugged and constricted.
The split column shook again, dust rising and choking us.
A hand seized my arm. I looked up, gasping for breath. Enola leaned over the edge on her knees, her expression grim. “Let my friend go!” She snarled at Vetle.
He bared his teeth back, but I gasped. “No, Enola—no! He’s—” I struggled to breathe, unable to speak clearly.He's mine! I love him!
Her brow furrowed, but she gripped me tighter.
Vetle growled. “If you want to save your friend, pull her up!” He thrust his wings down again.
Enola's grip on my arm became iron. She braced herself and heaved backward with all her strength, dragging me up over the crumbling edge. My shoulder wrenched again as I scrabbled for purchase. Vetle pushed from below, his remaining strength channeled into one final thrust of his wings.
The column collapsed, crashing into the palace side and crumbling away in a great arc of dust and silt.
I tumbled onto solid ground, gasping, the vines still wrapped around my waist. Vetle landed beside me in a crouch, his wings drooping, his face pale beneath the stitches. Blood seeped from multiple wounds across his body.
I barely had time to breathe before Vetle grabbed me again, his clawed hand wrapping around my good wrist. "Up," he rasped. "We have to get farther up."
Together we scrambled higher onto more solid ground, away from the crumbling edge. The vines dragged behind us, their grip loosening—just slightly, but enough that I could draw a full breath and pull on them. Enola moved with us, her hand still on my shoulder, her eyes scanning the chaos around us. The vines didn’t try to grab her though. More vines spread up and along the edges of the chasm, tugging and wrenching.
I staggered to my feet, my lungs burning as if I’d inhaled smoke. The vines trailed from my waist like leashes, slick and pulsing with the same draining magic clawing at my veins. Each movement felt like dragging through tar. My fingers slipped on the rock, the grit biting into my palms as hot blood streamed down the back of my legs.
