CHAPTER 24
DAVINA
Two weeks ago
IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG FOR ME TO UNDERSTAND WHAT THE DANGER WAS IN MAKING SUCH A DEAL. Nor to realize how on point Zephyr had been when he’d warned how unpredictably dangerous the weather could get.
Half a day.
We got an additional half day of constant, uneventful ascent before what had been fairly powerful winds picked up strength.
And then picked up some more.
Within an hour, what had started as a moody breeze became an onslaught of angry gusts that battered us with every step.
Unease curled tight in my gut. Sand and dirt became projectiles when pushed to such speeds, forcing us to fumble for our scarves and wrap them around our heads and faces to keep the brunt of the itch at bay.
Still, grains found their way into the creases of our clothes, our hair, our eyes.
“We need to take cover!” Zephyr shouted over the wind’s roar.
Relief had me nearly sagging. I hadn’t wanted to be the one to call our stop after my number on ‘We continue. It won’t be dangerous’ earlier, but I’d been minutes away from caving.
I glanced around us, heart falling as I noted how even our surroundings were.
Not flat—Keftara never gave us such mercy—but even.
Gone were the towering boulders and spikes, with only a smooth path visible ahead and behind us.
Which wasn’t to say much, for visibility was poorer than it’d been in the two weeks I’d spent in Kobra.
“Not here!” I shouted back, waiting for Zephyr to reach me so we wouldn’t have to keep yelling.
He stepped in close, shoulder brushing mine, his chest solid and warm against the cold that was beginning to settle into my limbs. I had to restrain myself from leaning against him in return.
Taking cover was, in principle, a solid choice. But cover never came. One more hour came and went before things got even worse.
I felt more than saw the ground evening out.
It was betrayed by the relief in the muscles of my thighs when the effort they were forced to undertake fell from a fiber-splitting roar to a dull murmur.
Hope flared for all of a second that a change of terrain would come with the flatter ground before it was mercilessly snuffed out by the treacherous mountain.
The path smoothed for only a few more feet before it ended altogether. A sheer, vertical cliff wall was barely visible beyond through the flying dust. A narrow ribbon of ground wound along the face of the cliff, cutting across it and disappearing into the storm beyond.
“Not an option.” Zephyr’s voice carried that no-argument cadence I was starting to get used to.
I surveyed our surroundings again, still as flat and even as they’d been all day. Then I looked up at him. “I think it might be the only option.”
“We could go back.”
“We haven’t seen a boulder large enough to shelter all day.
We’d need to go back to that clearing, and I truly don’t think that walking for hours upon hours in this wind downhill is an option.
” It’d been at least half a day since we left camp.
Going down, we might be able to cover the distance in half the time, but I wasn’t willing to take the risk.
“Still better than that,” he muttered, chin jerking toward the thin trail etched into the cliff face.
A gust tore at me just then, and strands of hair that had wriggled free from my scarf lashed across my eyes.
“Not if it’s a short trek,” I said as I shoved them back.
“If the cliff wall curves and the ground’s flat beyond it, we might find cover in minutes.
” Because that same wall would be offering the protection we desperately needed.
I realized it sounded as if I was eager to go through the narrow edge—and believe me, I wasn’t.
What I was desperate for was finding some reprieve from the relentless assault.
My ears had been popping for an hour from the pressure fluctuations, and a headache was starting to build between my eyebrows due to the combination of having my eyes perpetually squinted and the force of the gusts.
“And if it’s not short?” Zephyr asked, the resistance in his voice thinning.
He had to be as tired as I was, and the prospect of at least four more hours undoing today’s progress was weighing on him as much as it did me. It just wasn’t an option, when even thinking of the possibility of backing down was something that had been trained out of me for over a decade.
I shrugged, gripping the straps of my pack tighter across my chest. “Then we hold on and pray that it doesn’t go on forever.”
Silence stretched for a beat.
“I’m still holding you responsible if I plummet to my death, Lachlan.”
A pang of fear speared through my gut at the prospect. I glanced up at him, thankful for the scarf hiding most of my features. “Then don’t.”
As soon as I said it, I regretted it.
I can’t care for him.
I could not forget that he was just the captain of a rival nation, most likely set on betraying me as soon as he could—under orders that were the same as mine, but that didn’t really make a difference.
His eyes locked on mine with an intensity that told me he’d noticed, but I looked away and started walking towards the ledge before he had the chance to comment on it.
Unease churned in my stomach the moment my boot touched the narrow walkway.
A rope had been bolted into the mountain, running alongside the wall as far as my sight went.
I wasn’t sure if it offered more safety because it was there, or dread because it had been considered necessary.
The one good thing was that being so close to the cliff wall meant some of the gusts were kept at bay, and the easing of their assault made my confidence spike.
I led the way, inwardly praying for the other end to become visible. For solid ground wider than three damn feet to appear just ahead.
Just a bit further. Any moment now.
But of course, it wasn’t going to be that easy.
That sapdamned stash better be worth it.
For what felt like an hour, I kept my chest angled toward the rock and my footfalls careful and deliberate.
One after the other. My fingers brushed the rope every few seconds, but I never let them wrap around it.
I had no idea of how loose or tight it was bound, and I knew there was nothing more dangerous than a false sense of security in a situation like this.
Zephyr remained silent at my back, the brush of his hands against the stone almost drowned by the whistling wind. I turned to check on him every so often, the thought of him truly falling to his death lodged into my side like a needle that couldn’t be shaken.
I wanted to see this mission through, yes.
To find the catacombs allegedly buried somewhere in the mountain along with the stash that Sircelen might have hid in them.
And I didn’t regret pushing for us to continue.
Worry gnawed at my gut, but I knew there was nothing I could have done for Armand after that serpent bit him.
He was better off with Kani and the people from Kamea, who’d almost certainly seen similar wounds before.
The windstorm had been an unfortunate turn of events, but it didn’t change the fact that the clock kept ticking and we hadn’t made nearly enough progress in the past two weeks.
But, I didn’t want progress at the expense of Zephyr’s downfall.
He’d been a pain in my ass more often than not, yes. He watched me too closely, always judging. But he was skilled. And aware. Reliable in a way many field agents I’d worked with weren’t. His loss wouldn’t just be mine to carry.
Plus, he’d been the one to say it. That if he died, it’d be on me. And I just didn’t want that on my hands for the rest of my life.
Just when the first intrusive thoughts of turning around speared through my mind, it appeared.
Solid ground.
At first, I thought it was just desperation playing tricks on my mind. But then it grew darker. Broader. Closer.
Hope surged, quickening my pace.
“We’ve got this!” I called over the wind.
When I turned to look, he was just a couple of feet behind. Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed to slits against the grit in the air.
“Good to know I won’t have to blame you for my demise,” he said tightly. “Now focus—”
The ground disappeared.
A scream tore from my throat as the spot where my right foot should have found ground met only air. I tried to regain my balance, hands launching for that rope.
My fingers caught.
And the rope gave way.