Page 30 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen (Curse of the Fae #4)

Heavy clouds make the late morning feel like a moonless night, the only light coming from the erratic bolts of lightning streaking across the sky. It’s beauty at its most primal, and my heart pounds in my chest. Whenever I read about this place, I imagined a bleak, gray hole— Nothing like this.

The black-and-purple clouds are alive, pulsing with an energy that makes my skin buzz and my pulse spike. These weather phenomena can destroy everything in their path, yet a part of me aches to step into the heart of the storm. To let it strip me down to whatever still stands after.

“It’s…magnificent,” I whisper.

“I’m glad you think so.” Seth smiles the way a proud mother smiles down at her baby. “The sun touches the city only a handful of hours each year. It’s the darkest place on the continent, darker still than the Shadowlands.”

“The wind turbines are massive. I can’t believe they’re still standing.”

“Aeolians are titans of industry,” Seth explains. “Their blades are forged from lyranthium, a conductive metal designed to harvest the power of the storm. The energy they collect is stored in their bases, then funneled to the city through a network of underground cables.”

Each turbine holds three blades, their surfaces absorbing the dim light.

The long, sleek, and razor-sharp pieces of machinery are patched up, showcasing hundreds of mismatched repairs, like they’ve been broken and rebuilt too many times to count.

Just like me. Resilient in the face of relentless destruction, despite the sea, the sky, and the very fabric of this world trying to tear them apart.

“The factory packages the energy into capacitors and ships them across the continent,” he adds, pointing to the port.

“A cradle of rock shields the lowest part of Deiltine from the monstrous waves of the North Sea. The narrow channel forms a hidden bay where boats wait to carry the tech on the rare days the overhead storm calms.” Seth tilts his face toward the sky.

“We shouldn’t stay here long. The storm’s picking up speed. ”

A crash of thunder blares through my chest, shivering through my fingers and toes and raising goosebumps on my arms. Straight ahead, the road ends in a sharp drop, where stockpiles of uneven rocks mark the cliff’s edge.

From there, the earth falls away into a steep, vertical descent—the cliffside a weather-beaten wall veined with rusted rope anchors and dilapidated ladders.

Before I can unpack my climbing gear, Seth tosses me a coil of rope and an annoying little smirk. “Think you can handle it, witch?”

“I’ve handled worse,” I shoot back, untangling my harness from the ropes, my bag not quite as neatly packed as his.

He shrugs off his winter coat, and I do the same, the heavy fur impending our movements. Next, I slip on the harness. The straps are damp and slippery, the cold metal biting my fingers. I force my hands to keep moving and fasten the loops around my thighs.

Seth is already strapped in, gloves on as he hammers the pitons into the rock with steady, efficient strikes. He clips his rope in and gives it a sharp yank to check the hold, then glances over to me. “Need help?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?” he asks, stepping behind me before I can answer. He tightens one of the straps I forgot, his knuckles brushing against my ass in the process, and the confident tug radiates deep in my belly. “If I fall, I can turn into a cloud. You can’t.”

He doesn’t need to remind me that we’re only doing this because I lack the power to fly down. I wish I could make him swallow his condescending smile—make him green with envy at the truth of it—but he’s not wrong. If I mess this up, I die. Simple as that.

He finishes threading my rope in, then checks on my harness again, blatantly copping a feel at this point. “Nice ass, witch.” He pinches my butt cheek, and I elbow him in the ribs to get him off me.

A laugh escapes him before he plants his boots on the edge and leans back like he’s done this a thousand times. “Would you like me to hold your hand?” he asks, smug and far too amused.

“Offer that again, and I’ll push you off this cliff.”

“After you, then.””

He motions for me to lead the way, and I turn my back to the foggy void, inching backward until I’m teetering on the edge. Muffling a flurry of curses, I begin my descent.

The first hundred feet are the worst, but the pressure in my ribcage slowly eases.

As a child, I used to swing between the towering trees of the Secret Springs gardens, using vines as ropes. This isn’t so different.

Once I get the hang of it, I pick up speed and glide down the rope with grace.

Seth whistles. “You’re good at this.”

I grin up at him. “Keep up, pretty boy.”

He slides down with ease, giving chase—turning it into a competition, which I’m always game for. It makes me forget the wind, the rain, and the deadly rocks waiting below. When my feet hit solid ground first, I tip my chin up and throw Seth a victorious grin.

“Well done, but I gave you a head start. Next round, you won’t be so lucky.”

With a quick zap of magic, Seth slices off the tops of both ropes, and the protective bubble around us wavers.

A sudden bout of rain beats down my head and shoulders, flattening my hood against my hair and chilling my skin.

I open my arms to the storm. “Are you a sore loser, pretty boy?”

The long ropes fall in tangled heaps at our feet, and Seth bends down to retrieve them. “I haven’t lost, yet,” he says with a wink. “This was merely a practice round, and you, darling , better get used to defeat.”

The rain tapers off, and I’m left breathless—not from the cold, but from the raw, electric thrill humming beneath my skin. My heart pounds against my ribs, every nerve alive with a rush I haven’t felt in ages.

I’ve stared down monsters and danced with death. But this easy banter, this comfortable camaraderie, feels like the most dangerous edge I’ve stood on yet.