Page 42 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

After a few minutes, stars appear on the edges of my vision, and gradually warmth gathers in my palm. Another deep shuddering breath and a flickering flame dances into existence.

I clutch the flame between my fingers, feeling the heat build against my skin.

Just as the searing pain scorches my palm, I fumble around for something to hold it with.

My fingers close around a jagged piece of wood, and I light the end before quickly shaking my hand to extinguish the small inferno.

“That didn’t look so hard,” Odessa says casually.

I look up at her, and now that I can see her face better, I can tell she’s lying—or at least, trying to deflect from her worry.

“It wasn’t,” I lie back, handing her the small torch before pushing to my feet. I step back a few paces, afraid of standing in the rapidly sinking sand myself, and look around for anything I can throw to Jett. “Dessa, hold the light up. I can’t see.”

She does, and my eyes land on a long vine, slightly thicker than the average rope. I pull it down and toss one end to Jett.

“I hate this damn swamp,” Jett growls, reaching for the vine.

“Likewise.” I grunt, pulling with all my remaining strength as Jett, panting heavily, moves back and forth, trying to help me free him.

It’s slow work pulling Jett out. The light makes things marginally easier, but it also means I can now see where we are, and part of me wishes I couldn’t.

The swamp is a murky maze of tangled vines and tall, gnarled trees that reach towards the moonlit sky.

The path is littered with slimy mud and puddles of dark water, and in the shadows, I can see the flashes of eyes and the outlines of enormous creatures moving and slithering between the trees.

The spot where Jett is stuck—which we’d chosen as a campsite because it seemed to be a clearing between the trees—is clearly open for a reason.

He’s lying in the middle of a pool of quicksand.

“When we get you out, we should get the fuck out of here.” I pant. “I can’t believe nothing has attacked us yet, or walked into some poisonous plant, or fallen into?—”

“Alright, we get it,” Dessa interrupts sharply. “I agree. I’d rather walk until I physically collapse from exhaustion than try to sleep in here. Good thing we didn’t lie down to sleep too, or we’d all be stuck by now.”

“Wait, where’s the pirate?” I ask.

“Shit, I nearly forgot,” Odessa yelps, the torch light flickering as she turns in a circle scanning the ground. “Oh my gods!”

“What?” I gasp, still entirely focused on pulling Jett from the sand.

“I can see just his hand moving over there,” Odessa screeches. “He must still be alive.”

“Fuck,” Jett breathes. “Better him than me I suppose. He can’t die under there.”

“That sounds worse,” Dessa whimpers. “We literally buried him alive.”

“We didn’t do anything,” I snap. “Don’t think about it. I’m more concerned about getting Jett out than the prick who wanted to kill you.”

She mumbles something under her breath and steps away from the waving fingers, but makes no more comments about it as I yank and twist the vine, struggling to pull Jett free.

It takes nearly five whole minutes to extract Jett from the sand, at which point he crawls across the muddy ground, coughing hard. “Fuck me. I never thought I’d say this, but I think I’d go back to Dyaspora before trying that again.”

“To hell with this swamp,” I agree. “Let’s go. I suddenly feel like I could run ten miles if the alternative is this shit.”

“What about Captain Connell?” Odessa asks, looking down at the hand still poking out of the sand. “We can’t leave him here buried alive.”

I close my eyes and stifle a groan. Honestly, if we didn’t need the pirate for questioning, I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over leaving him here. Being buried alive for eternity feels like a reasonable punishment for capturing Odessa.

I look at Jett, silently communicating our shared indifference. He rolls his eyes and leans over to plunge his hand into the sand near Connell’s waving fingers. “I can feel the belt around his wrists. Bet he’s glad we tied him up, now. Otherwise, I don’t know how we’d ever get him out.”

“Funnily enough, I still doubt he’ll thank us.” I sigh. “Alright, throw me the vine.”

It takes even longer to pull the pirate out of the sand.

Partly because he’d sunk far further below the ground than Jett did, and partly because the urgency I felt to free Jett isn’t nearly as consuming when it comes to Connell.

Now I just feel exhausted and bitter to be wasting my remaining physical energy on our murderous prisoner.

Still, we finally get him out and the three of us collapse on the ground.

“Bloody hell,” the pirate swears, crawling across the muddy ground, coughing and spitting as he tries to clear the sand from his lungs. “Of all the ways I’ve died, that might have been the worst.”

“You’re welcome,” Jett says darkly.

In answer, Connell spits out another mouthful of mud and flops down on his back, panting.

“Don’t lie down,” Odessa says, slightly hysterically. “Sorry, I just know I’m not nearly strong enough to pull you out if this happens again.”

She’s right, but my entire body still screams in protest as I get to my feet again. “We have to fly out of here,” I say to Jett. “Do you think you can?”

He nods, his ragged breathing still coming out in loud gasps. “Yeah, I’m feeling pretty familiar with my own mortality at the moment.”

He stands up and closes his eyes for the briefest second before his wings burst into existence.

“Oi, careful!” Connell yells as the feathers smack him in the face. “Giant bloody pigeon, trying to take my eye out.”

Jett turns and smacks Connell with his wing, before grabbing the man under the arms. “I swear to the fucking gods if you complain once that I’m not holding you nicely enough, I’ll make it really nice for you when I drop you back into the swamp.”

I smother a smile and turn to Dessa, my own wings spreading behind me. She’s still holding the torch in front of her face, and a feeling of satisfaction washes over me as her eyes widen at the sight of the wings.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, I just swear I’ve seen more wings in the last year than I ever did in the century before that.”

“I assume you’ve been in a lot more trouble this year than you were in the last century.”

“Lucky me,” she breathes. “Well, shall we?”

I reach for her and she drops the torch.

It hits the ground and extinguishes, leaving us in total darkness as I slip one arm gently under her knees and the other around her back, feeling the warmth of her body against mine.

She loops her arms tightly around my neck, her fingers brushing my hair.

My heart races, not from the weight of holding her, but from the closeness, the scent of her hair, and the soft rise and fall of her breath.

As I push off the ground, the bond in my chest throbs painfully—as if reminding me once again that it’s there.