Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thunder booms across a densely packed cloud-ridden predawn sky, mocking any expectation of witnessing my first sunrise as we’re transported a mile north of Caligo’s entrance.
Though daybreak will be imminent within the hour, the roiling storm blots out the aerial light from the moon and constellations, leaving only the silver beam of headlights on the front of the motorized cart to enhance visibility.
“Do you think it’ll rain?” The question comes from a woman sitting two rows ahead of me in the motorized cart. Judging by the huskiness of the tone and the rapier on her hip, I think it’s Faron, though it’s hard to tell with her red hair covered by the helmet.
“Looks like it might,” I say.
“I wonder what it’s gonna feel like,” another remarks.
“Wet,” Kalden states simply, and I almost crack a smile as the cart comes to a halt at the top of a large dune, overlooking the expansive sandscape.
We file out one by one onto the ground.
A more nasally voice whispers to the few women within earshot, “Why did they bring us all the way out here? Why not let us walk from the entrance?”
I shrug. “Maybe they don’t want to lead Sols to the entrance of Caligo.”
A commotion on the other side of our group drowns my words out. Three of our escorts have climbed back into the cart they used to transport us across the dunes, but the fourth guard makes no effort to join his comrades.
“C’mon, we gotta get back,” calls the man sitting behind the cart’s steering wheel.
The dissenting guard shakes his head and tugs off his helmet, revealing tousled auburn hair and an all-too-familiar smirk.
My stomach twists in on itself as my ex-husband commands, “Head back without me. I’m right where I need to be.”
The Guards of the Gate freeze, and I almost pity them for having to decide between obeying the orders of the next-chancellor-to-be or earning the current chancellor’s ire.
I stomp forward through the group. “What are you doing?!”
Gabe’s lopsided smile falls as he faces me. “The right thing.”
“How is leaving your family behind the right thing?”
“I have to, Elle. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”
“No.” I shake my head, though the bulky headgear makes the movement more clunky than intended. “You can’t just make your wife a widow because you don’t want the death of your ex-wife weighing on your conscience.”
“That’s the thing, though. None of us have to die. Not if we use this,” he says cryptically, thumping a hand against the large pouch looped around his waist.
“You can’t know that.”
There’s no telling what weapon he’s got in there, but how can it guarantee that all eleven of us will make it out of this Hunt unscathed?
Gabe moves closer, voice lowering. “Trust me, Elle. This will work.”
“What if it doesn’t?” I step forward, contemplating whether I’d be fast enough to snatch that helmet out of his hands, plop it back on his head, and send him on his merry way back to safety.
“It will,” he insists.
“But what if it doesn’t?” I repeat, voice thick with a plea for him to understand what’s truly at stake if his secret plan doesn’t pan out as expected.
Gabe’s throat bobs as he lessens more of the distance between us.
“If it doesn’t, then my boys will know their father died with honor.
” His deep blue eyes dip to my own, and I know he’s now speaking to me instead of the camera.
“And I could only hope they’d be willing to do the same for the women they love. ”
For the first time since I’ve put it on, I’m grateful for the helmet, if only for its ability to disguise the emotions on my face.
Like how his confession widens my eyes and tugs at the corners of my lips, only for the near smile to crumble a second later.
He chose to throw what we had away, to ignore me for ten years, despite his so-called “love” for me.
I need him to believe my next words. Need myself to believe them.
“I don’t want you here, Gabe. There’s nothing you could ever do that would atone for what you did.
Your honor died a long time ago, along with any love between us.
Out here,” I say, swinging my arms out at the surrounding dunes and overcast sky, “there’s no room for cowards or distractions.
So, leave your secret little weapon with us, if you must, and go back home while you still can. ”
Gabe smiles.
Smiles.
My arms shake as I stave off the urge to clench my fists.
His eyes move lower, catching the movement. “You gave yourself away earlier, you know. In your interview with Coraline. What you said about Gem . . . If you really didn’t care about me, it wouldn’t matter to you if I stayed. The fact that you’re trying this hard to get me to leave—”
“Stop,” I say, but he talks over me.
“—tells me you do care. You care a lot.”
Gabe lifts a hand towards my helmet.
What’s he going to do? Rip it off? Forsake his vows to his current wife for the sake of resuscitating ours? It would be a lie to say I haven’t dreamt of this—or something like this, minus the hostile environment and shit timing. But those dreams faded years ago.
“Don’t,” I breathe, stepping back.
But Gabe’s not ready to let me get away. He shifts forward.
“Stop it, Gabe.”
A hand comes between us, but it isn’t Gabe’s or mine. I know from the charged energy alone that it’s Kalden.
“She said stop,” he warns, spreading his palm against Gabe’s chest.
Gabe’s deep blue eyes narrow as he peers down at the hand, then between Kalden and me.
“Your chivalry is admirable, but unnecessary,” Gabe says while brushing aside Kalden’s hand and taking a few steps back. “I would never hurt Elle.”
“Sounds like you already have,” Kalden counters.
Gabe holds up his palms. “Fair enough, but I’m here to prove it won’t happen again.”
Kalden stands silent for several seconds, and I get the sense those molten irises of his are assessing my ex-husband. Finally, he says, “Get your helmet on, then. Let’s head out.”
Gabe hesitates, unaccustomed to following orders, then does as he’s told. But not before he calls back to the guards, who are still waiting on the motorized cart. “I’m not going back. You can’t force me to return without restraining me, and legally, you can’t. So go.”
The three Guards of the Gate need no other permission. The cart’s wheels kick up grains of sand as it takes off across the dunes, its rhythmic whir disappearing a minute later.
I angle back towards the Huntresses. They look like statues, each one fixated in a different direction, slowly surveying the cloud-covered landscape that dips and crests for miles. A gentle wind flows through the helmet as I, too, fall under the spell.
There are no walls. No doorways or stairwells. Nothing to hold on to. Nowhere to hide. Even the ground gives way, like an endless void that won’t stop spinning while I fall through a vortex of sand and sky.
My knees collapse against the surface. I lean forward, bracing my palms on the cool earth while I attempt to convince my brain that the tunnels of Caligo aren’t trying to swallow me back inside.
“Being out here makes me feel like I’m stuck inside a sand clock.” Gem’s words ease their way through the tempest. She scoots up next to me and presses her knee into my own, providing the anchor point for the world to stabilize.
We stay in the quiet expanse for a few moments more.
When my vision settles, I notice Kalden returning from the large dune toward my right. He leaps gracefully down the steep decline while my feet sink and stick as I trudge my way back to standing. As he arrives, our group seems to come to attention, turning toward him without prompting.
“I know the commander ordered us to split up, but we’ll have better odds of making it through an attack if we stick together.
Groundcover isn’t the priority here. Survival is.
” Kalden’s neck tilts back as he takes in the clouds, which have brightened from a near-black gray to a slightly brighter shade of charcoal.
“We’ve got a little less than half an hour till sunrise.
If we head west for the tree line, we may make it before dawn. ”
Before our enemies awake.
“Remember what we practiced. Adjust your form for long-distance running. Stamina over speed, until a threat arises.”
Kalden spins on his heel, leading our group towards the darker side of the horizon.
Gem falls into step on my right, Gabe on my left.
Their pandering makes me want to push myself faster, but I refrain from doing so.
The last thing I want to do is burn myself out in the first half hour.
So, I focus on what Kalden taught me during our second training session: lean forward, higher cadence, shorter strides.
The movement is gentler on my ankles and knees, redirecting the stress to the balls of my feet and my glutes.
Minutes pass, and I fall into a rhythm. Because of the angle, I’m able to avoid too much vertical oscillation, and my brain is grateful not to be jostled around. Like usual, there’s a pressure behind my eyes that pulses with every heartbeat, but it hasn’t reached a stabbing level of pain.
Yet, whispers an intrusive thought.
I ignore it. Worrying about when my next debilitating episode will strike will do me no good. If it happens—or when it happens—I’ll have to lean on the borrowed power from the sun instead of my own and pray to the shadows that it’ll be enough.