CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE TREW
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
TREW
Isi’s whimper of fear cut through the growl of thunder and lightning ripping across the sky.
She gazed wildly at the storm, her body frozen in place.
My boot tips secure on a thin ledge, I gripped stones jutting out of the tower wall. “Climb onto my back. Wrap your arms and legs around me. I’ll get us down.”
She shook her head. “I can do it.”
“I mean it. Close your eyes, and I’ll bring you to the ground. Then I’ll hold you until the storm has passed.”
Another crack of lightning split the sky, and Isi flinched.
I remembered holding her during the thunderstorm at Syllavar, the way she’d trembled in my arms while I’d told her a story to keep her mind off the lightning. But I couldn’t hold her now. A story wasn’t going to fix it this time.
Voices rose inside the tower room above us, footsteps moving closer to the window.
We needed to move around to the other side of the tower. Now.
My protective instincts screamed at me to reach for her, to pull her against me and shield her from the world. But if I tried to take her into my arms while barely clinging to wet stone, we’d both fall. Our position made tenderness impossible.
So I did the only thing I could.
I made my voice a weapon.
“Minx.” The command cut through the storm and her panic, hissing close to her ear to keep from being heard above. “Eyes on me. Now.”
She didn’t move.
“I said look at me, Isi.” I spoke harsher this time, sharp enough to pierce through her fear. “Remember how you trusted me during the storm at Syllavar while I told you about the lonely thunder dragon?”
Her head turned, and she frowned.
“That’s it. Keep those eyes on me, not the sky or the fear inside you.” I gentled my tone. “I’m right here. I’m not letting you fall.”
Lightning flashed again and she shook, her fingers white-knuckled on the stone.
Pherin flew past us in a blur of wet feathers, her distressed chirps cutting through the rain.
“Pherin, help her.”
The minxpip settled on Isi’s shoulder and pressed her small body against Isi’s neck. Pherin positioned herself like a living shield, her wings spread to cover as much of Isi’s peripheral vision as possible.
“Good.” I kept my voice steady. “Now, Minx, we’re going to climb around to the other side of the tower and then down together. I’m going to guide you. You have to trust my voice.”
“I’ll…try.” Her words barely made it past her lips.
“Good. There’s a groove on your right. Feel for it.”
She shifted her hand, but it snapped back again to its original position. Her eyes pinched shut.
“Right hand,” I said by her ear. “Do it.”
Her hand moved. Found the groove.
I noticed her labored breathing, but there was a flicker of determination in her eyes as she held on. It was a small victory, enough to bridge the moment and let me gentle my words.
“Now step straight down, maybe the length of a foot. There’s a ledge. Once we reach it, we can move out of view of the windows.”
She glanced up before moving again, trembling but stiffening her spine.
We eased around the tower until we were lost from view, then descended like that, bit by painful bit.
I memorized every handhold, every foothold, sharing them with her while rain made everything slick and treacherous.
My heart rammed against my ribs every time her hand slipped, every time thunder crashed and she froze.
But she kept going, fighting through her fear because I was asking her to do this for me. Because she trusted me even when she wasn’t sure she could trust herself.
Lightning split the sky again. Her foot slipped, scraping across wet stone.
Before I could speak, I saw her independently correcting her grip, finding the hold again.
“You’re stronger than this storm,” I said. “Conquering this will help you face your father and the prisoners relying on our survival.”
She kept climbing.
Light burst out from one of the windows.
“Freeze,” I hissed.
We pressed ourselves flat against the tower wall, barely breathing. Torchlight spilled across the ground to my left, and I sensed someone leaning out.
My hand found Isi’s, skin to skin. I squeezed, trying to pour every ounce of steady confidence I had through that contact.
Thunder crashed directly overhead.
Her fingers spasmed in mine.
I squeezed harder.
The person above muttered something and the torchlight retreated.
Voices drifted around us from above, too low to make out words, but close enough to make my skin crawl. Below us, I caught muffled voices suggesting occupied chambers.
“Keep going,” I said quietly. “We’re not stopping now.”
Her breathing came in short, sharp gasps that wouldn’t give her enough air.
I scanned the wall below us and spotted a strip of stone jutting out from the side, maybe ten feet down along the tower's curve. Barely a foot’s width wide, it was about twenty feet of lateral climbing to an open window from there.
“See that ledge below us?” I kept my voice calm despite the urgency clawing at my chest. “We’re going there. Just focus on that. One move at a time. I’m going to map the route for you from there to the window. That will give you something to focus on besides the storm.”
“I don’t think—”
“You don’t have to think. Just do what I tell you. One more move. You can do it.”
She did as I asked, her growing initiative showing as she pushed through.
I talked her down to the ledge, the movement a victory. By the time we reached it, my throat was raw and my muscles screamed from the strain of holding myself in position while guiding her.
I pulled her against the wall the moment her feet touched the ledge, positioning myself between her and the drop. Finally, finally, I could hold her like I ached to do, straining to listen for footsteps above while her heartbeat slowed against my chest.
She collapsed against me, shaking.
I wrapped an arm around her, clinging to the wall on either side, and lowered my mouth to her ear.
“You survived the Rite. You survived the attempts on your life. You survived your father’s whip.
His payment is overdue.” My voice dropped to something fierce and tender at once.
“This storm doesn’t get to break you unless you let it. ”
Her breathing hitched.
“If you fall, I’m coming with you, and I have too much left to do to die tonight.”
A sound escaped her that might’ve been a laugh or a sob.
We stood like that for a long moment, her heart racing against mine, rain streaming down our faces. Gradually, her breathing steadied. The shaking eased to tremors.
Thunder rumbled again, softer this time.
Isi tensed but didn’t freeze or stop breathing. I felt the difference in her body. She was fighting it now instead of surrendering.
I described the path, each hand and foothold, painting a picture with words while rain pelted us and the storm raged.
“I’m going first this time,” I said. “I’ll be right below you. If you slip, I’ll catch you.” The confidence in my voice was absolute, even though we both knew me being able to do it was questionable at best. But she needed to hear the certainty more than she needed the truth.
I released her carefully, making sure she was stable before I started down.
Lightning flashed.
We kept moving.
Pride swelled in my chest as I eased her through each grip, each foothold. Her hands shook on the stone, but she was doing it. Actually doing it despite the terror that wanted to consume her.
We were almost there when thunder crashed so loudly the entire tower seemed to shake.
Her foot slipped.
I braced myself to catch her weight, to break her fall even if it meant we both went down.
But she caught herself. Found a new foothold. Kept climbing.
This woman was magnificent.
I reached the window first, testing it with one hand while maintaining my grip with the other. It opened easily, and I found the bedroom beyond empty.
I pulled myself through and turned back, reaching out for her.
Another flash of lightning lit up the sky.
She met my eyes instead of looking at the storm.
“Almost there, Minx. Take my hand. I’m right here.”
Her hand found mine, wet and cold and shaky, but reaching.
Thunder crashed as I hauled her through the window. We tumbled together onto the floor inside, a tangle of soaked limbs and gasping breaths.
I rolled onto my back, pulling Isi with me so she landed against my chest. Her entire body trembled, and she was soaked through to the bone, but she was here with me. Safe for now.
I wrapped my arms around her, her heart throbbing against mine, both of us breathing hard from exertion and terror and relief.
“You were amazing,” I whispered.
She buried her face in my neck and shook.
I tightened my hold, letting her feel the solid reality of the floor beneath us, the walls around us, and the fact that we’d made it.
She’d conquered the storm and that cursed climb despite fear trying to paralyze her. She’d trusted my voice enough to move when every instinct screamed at her to freeze. Instead of giving up when she slipped, she’d kept going.
Pherin darted in after us, shaking rain from her feathers. She landed on Isi’s back, her tiny body still puffed up.
Isi lifted her head.
I paused to listen, thinking about where we’d landed. One floor below the tower or two?
Before I could speak, Isi kissed me hard and fierce, her mouth claiming mine with enough heat to steal what little breath I’d managed to recover.
I kissed her back with everything I had, pouring my pride and relief and bone-deep need into the contact. I stroked my fingers through her wet hair while hers gripped my shoulders, both of us clinging to each other like we would fall if we let go.
When she finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard again for an entirely different reason.
Footsteps echoed in the room, and someone lit a torch.
King Cyril stood nearby, wearing a robe.
Wet hair. A scowl on his face.
He looked between us and then cut his gaze to the open window.
“Now, isn’t this interesting?” he said with a sneer. “What is the meaning of this compromising position, daughter?”