Page 71 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
I grabbed the chain with both hands and began to climb. My feet slipped on the angled stone, and I had to dig my toes into any crack or crevice I could find. The chain scraped against rock as I pulled myself upward, using it as a handhold. My wounded wrist screamed in protest, blood making my grip slippery.
The lavender gown caught on the stone, fabric tearing. I climbed higher, muscles burning, lungs heaving.
Finally, I reached the top of the pit and hauled myself over the edge. The chain disappeared into a narrow gap where a thick iron spike had been driven deep into the stone.
I scrambled onto the top, my knees scraping against the rock. The spike was thick as my wrist, hammered in at an angle. The chain looped through an iron ring at its base.
I wrapped both hands around the spike and pulled.
It didn't budge.
I braced my feet against the boulder and threw my full weight backward. The spike remained fixed, as immovable as the stone itself. My hands slipped, and I fell hard onto my back, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs.
I lay there gasping, staring up at the dull red blood moon. It was already high in the sky, nearing its zenith.
How much time did I have?
An hour?
Two?
Panic clawed within me, my breaths short and ragged.
I turned back toward the palace and froze. The southeastern courtyards, external buildings, walls, and towers were indeed all gone, the chasm itself pressed right up against the marble as if devouring it in giant bites. The southwestern courtyards and walls had collapsed completely into piles of rubble, the towers overturned or so unsteady it looked as if a breath might topple them. It looked as if it had shifted yet again. If there was another earthquake, the whole palace might slide into oblivion.
But my gaze snagged on the column in the center of the widest part of the crescent-shaped chasm. There on the dark stone stood Vetle.
Dark vines had risen from the depths and were now around him. He stood stock still, shoulders squared and wings spread, motionless against the hunger of the chasm and the vines. His shadows pulsed and flared.
“No,” I whispered. “Please, Maker, no.” My chest broke open. “Please, I love him. Don’t take him now.Please!” Tears streamed down my face, salty and hot.
The wind swept up in a great aching howl, sharp and cold, its scream climbing until it sliced straight through me. My skin prickled, every hair lifting as a strange pressure built in the air.
The clouds above twisted violently, and a face emerged.
A face emerged in the clouds. Massive, ancient, spectral. Eyes wide with something like horror. A mouth open in a silent scream. Then it was gone, swallowed by the dark churning clouds.
I staggered back as I stared in shock. An eidon? A living eidon?Here?
“Sabine!”
A small voice cracked through the wind, distant and easy to miss.
“Sabine!”
I turned sharply toward the sound, gaze focusing in on the narrowest point of the chasm on the other side.
Osric.
He ran toward the edge of the chasm, his pale hair whipped by the wind, eyes wide with fear. Without hesitating, he leaped over the narrowest point. His boots slid in the loose earth and gravel, then he charged toward me.
"What are you doing here?" My voice came out strangled as I wiped the tears from my face. "You need to get back to the palace! It's not safe!"
Osric skidded to a stop in front of me, panting for breath. “Fahlda said the creatures won’t attack. He made a deal. Then he told me I’d find you in a garden after the curse ended. Why’re you chained up?”
“Fahlda was trying to protect me. Get me a rock.” If Osric was going to be here, then I might as well have him help me. I glanced once more at Vetle. He’d said that this would potentially take hours, but already I saw his strength flagging. His shoulderssagged, and the vines writhed as if trying to drag him down to his knees.
Osric brought me a fist-sized rock. I grabbed it and began smashing it against the spike, the impact jarring up through my arms with each strike. The metal rang out, but the spike held firm. I hit it again and again, my muscles screaming, my bloodied wrist burning with each blow.
