Chapter 22 #2
Near the middle of the bridge, the fog was thicker, especially at the edges making it look like you could step off the side and still be on solid ground. Before I could give a warning, Veyyr did.
“Stay to the middle.”
The fog curled in tighter, not waiting for us to reach for it and instead making itself known.
It beaded on my face and bare arms, dampened my clothes, and worse, blurred the far end of the bridge so it looked farther away than it should be.
A game then from the elementals? Was this why Veyyr put me out front? If there was magic, my immunity might push it off, but I wasn’t sure if that worked with elemental magic.
The distance stretched strangely. I could have sworn the arches repeated more than they had been at the beginning, that the bridge was impossibly longer than when we started.
A trick of nerves. Just nerves.
Only I knew that wasn’t the case. This wasn’t nerves, this was a way to stop people from crossing the bridge, the urge to turn and run back built, growing with every step.
I blew out a slow breath—we had to change this up and fast. “Anyone know a good song? One of those rounds?”
“A what?” Lucky’s voice was strained.
“A round,” Rana said, surprising me. “My mother and I sang them all the time, as a way to help work go easier.”
“Yes, to help this go easier,” I said. “Rana, can you give us one?”
Her pause was gone in a flash. “Yes, do you know Trip upon Trenchers?”
Harrison whispered, “Veyyr and I know it.”
“Sing it through for us,” I said. “Lucky and I can learn it.”
Her voice was sweet on the air, and broke through some of the fog.
“Trip upon trenchers,
And dance upon dishes,
My mother sent me for some barm, some barm;
She bid me go lightly,
And come again quickly,
For fear I should break all the dishes.”
Once through and I had it, as did Lucky.
With the sound of four voices sliding through the song, there was still the fear of slipping, of course.
But no longer were we stopped, unable to move, or worse, unable to get to the other side because of the twist on reality that the bridge existed within.
We were just over halfway across, when Rana’s voice slowed. “I’m so tired.”
Losing her voice, it slowed us all, but I didn’t dare stop singing, no matter that my voice cracked or that the tune was off, or that sometimes the words weren’t right.
A new voice joined us, instead of Rana—rising from far below.
“What if the other side isn’t better? What if it’s worse? Turning back feels just as dangerous as continuing. Just…fall. We will catch you.”
There was power in that voice, a magic that had nothing to do with witchcraft, and everything to do with the foundation of the world. I forced my foot to lift and step forward even while my breath shortened, making my singing choppy.
I didn’t look away from the far edge, kept walking even though my calf burned and my pulse thrummed in my ears. I gripped the straps on my bag, to keep from grabbing a weapon.
Because the voice wanted me to step off the edge. Not go back, just…off.
Another verse, and another, Harrison and Lucky sang with me, as choppy and off key as I was but it didn’t matter.
The stones below my feet were suddenly drier. The moss thinned and the fog loosened its grip, just enough so I could see the trees on the far side as more than ghostly skeletons.
Solid. Rooted. Real, the trees were like an anchor I could latch onto.
Sorrow hopped along the edge of the bridge, spread his wings wide and stared down into the ravine.
“F-caw-f!”
My smile trembled as I sang and I picked up speed. We were almost there, almost across.
As soon as my feet hit the far side I spun and reached for Lucky and Rana, then Harrison.
The relief hit hard and sudden, and it fled as fast as it hit as I stared back the way we’d come.
“Veyyr!”
He stood in the center of the bridge, unmoving.
Eyes closed.
The voice that had called to us when Rana had lost her song drifted through the air again. I could hear it now — softer here, muted by solid ground — but no less insidious for it. Sweet. Gentle. Crafted to slide under the skin and stay there.
“A step,” the voice coaxed. “Just one step, young Sylph. We will catch you.”
Veyyr shifted his weight and turned toward the edge of the bridge, as if he might do exactly what she asked.
“Fuck that,” I growled.
The bond between us was not one-way. If it had worked before, it would work now. I reached for it, feeling along the familiar thread nestled close to my Tracking ability—warm, alive, unmistakably his. Good enough. I yanked.
Veyyr went down hard, landing on his hands and knees. The impact broke the spell’s grip just long enough for him to suck in a breath.
His eyes met mine. Clear. Terrified.
“Go,” he said hoarsely. “They…want me.”
“Oh please,” I shot back. “That’s just your ego talking.”
His eyes widened—surprise, not anger—and I dug deeper into the bond, hauling with everything I had as the siren’s song surged again.
Now it was a battle of wills.
If he thought I was stubborn before, it was nothing on me now.
“Get ready to grab him,” I snapped, motioning Lucky and Harrison into position as Veyyr staggered toward us. His gait was unsteady, pulled forward by me and sideways by the elemental’s call, like a man being torn between tides.
The bond thrummed hot, strained to its limit, while her song tried to slice through it. My chest burned, breath coming fast, every scrap of focus bent toward keeping him moving forward.
I didn’t close my eyes. Didn’t flinch from the intimacy of it. Didn’t look away from the ice blue eyes and the need within them.
And that was when I understood.
The siren wasn’t offering Veyyr power or conquest. She was offering him peace. A life of belonging. Children who adored him. A throne built of reverence instead of blood.
It was beautiful, alluring and most would have tumbled into her arms.
But for him? It was wrong.
Because Veyyr wasn’t made for worship. He wasn’t meant to be kept safe or soft or treasured like a relic or a prized stallion. He was forged for war — for standing in the thick of it, back-to-back with someone who wouldn’t break when things turned brutal.
He didn’t want a kingdom.
He wanted a fight worth bleeding for.
I lifted my chin and snarled into the empty air, the wolf in my blood surging to protect something that was mine. My voice cutting through her song like a blade.
“Listen, lady. You can promise to ride the fuck out of him, and give him children and a crown, until you’re hoarse, but I’m who he’s fighting to get to. I’m the one he knows will stand beside him while the world burns around us. I’m the one he can give his back to and know I’ll keep it safe.”
I tightened the bond, hard and unyielding and readied myself for what I knew would be the final pull.
“So, unless you plan on coming up here and dragging him off yourself, you can fuck right off!”
Veyyr’s eyes dilated as he stared at me, drinking me down. I dug my heels in, pulling on the bond, physically dragging him closer, while the elemental screamed from below—her voice no longer sweet but filled with rage that was hot enough to make me question pissing her off.
The last few feet, Veyyr was able to crawl forward—Harrison and Lucky grabbed him and yanked him the rest of the way over the bridge until they were further back and I stood between them all and the bridge edge.
I stared down into the ravine, the elemental’s anger still humming in the air.
Sorrow hopped into the air and lighted on my shoulder, once more spreading his wings.
But he didn’t speak, he just screeched, a scream of defiance that echoed into the trees, silencing the other birds, silencing the oppressive feeling.
Touching the top of his foot, I patted him gently. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
And even with that, the feeling that we weren’t done with the elemental below followed me, far beyond where the bridge was gone and the ravine no longer echoed.