Page 43 of Queen of the Night
“I’malsostuck.” I can just imagine the roguish glint in his eyes as he says it.
He tries to shift to give me space, but with one arm snug between me and the tree and him bent at an awkward angle, it’s not happening.
I panic. His nearness is too much for my resolve, and a feral need to escape rises within me. If I can’t have him, I can’t be near him. Also, this tree may be trying to eat my hand, and I’d like to keep it. I continue pulling, more forcefully now, jerking my arm like a cornered animal, but in the process, my shoulder knocks his chin upward and he curses.
“That isnothelping,” he growls.
He’s right. It seems like he’s always right. Drat him twice.
I pull at my wrist again.
“Can you be still foronemoment?”
I can, but not because he asked me to. He’s a king, and I don’t take orders from him. But I’m positive I feel the tree move, and I freeze. It doesn’t release us, but slowly changes shape, twisting and creaking all around us.
“Ikar…” My voice rises several octaves as I look down and see nothing but the forest floor growing farther from us as wecontinue rising with the twisting and growing tree trunk. We end up surrounded by branches in a basket like enclosure in the tree tops, bits of much-missed sunlight filtering through the loose weave of crisscrossed branches and fluttering green leaves. Our hands are freed, and I find myself tucked beneath his shoulder, my hand clutching his solid waist. We stand silently for a long moment, waiting to see what the tree will do next, but nothing happens.
“What do we do now?” I whisper, worried the tree will hear me.
Ikar tries prying apart the weave around us with his free hand, but it holds strong. He slams a fist against it.
I pull magic and offer it to him—pure lucent. “Try again.”
He slams it again; this time, it cracks a bit with the extra strength he’s gifted with. But the crack disappears quickly, and a new leaf sprouts from the same spot.That’s odd.
“What about your sword?” I suggest it only because his is much bigger than mine.
The affronted look Ikar gives me tells me that it was a horrid suggestion. “It’s not anaxe.”
I roll my eyes.
After over an hour of trying to pry the branches apart, we sink to the floor of our branch prison as far apart as we can get from each other. Even with the effort, our shoulders remain only inches apart. After a while, Ikar begins to sprawl out, lying back and crossing one leg over the other. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, attempting to keep my distance, but it’s difficult when his large form takes up most of the small space.
I spend two hours spewing random guesses at magical keywords that will make the tree move.
“Dragon’s blood.”
I count five seconds under my breath. Rupi gives an encouraging chirp from outside the tightly woven branches.
Nothing.
“Nestberry.”
Nothing.
“Blackipor.”
Ikar snorts.
I give him an affronted look. “I’m running out of ideas.”
He appears completely relaxed with an arm thrown over his eyes as if he’s about to sleep. “Thank the blazes.”
I would smack him in the arm, but I need to keep my hands off him.
I scoff. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Nope.”
