Page 49 of Wicked Prince of Shadows (Wicked Princes #2)

The air howled between us, tearing sideways across the chasm and dragging at my hair.

The wind was growing sharper, crueler—angled like a blade now, stripping warmth and forcing the flyers to dip lower or bank wildly to avoid being hurled into the stone.

Osric kept trying to get to us, but Baza had him tight.

The steady shelf of land on the portal side offered little shelter from the whipping wind, but the survivors clustered there.

My legs had numbed, and my vision stuttered, momentarily freezing in place like a painting. The world juddered back into motion just as something cracked beneath our feet.

Vetle gasped as well, his arm around me tighter as his wings flexed. If not for his arm around me, I would have fallen. Two of the eels pressed against our feet.

Another tremor shook the earth. More than half the people had gotten over now.

The column groaned again—louder this time. A long vertical seam split down its center with a sudden, sharp pop. The jolt threw us both to our knees. My elbow struck stone. Pain exploded up my arm, white and cold. The vines wrapped higher. “Aerithyn!” I screamed. “We’ll help you! Just let us go!”

Flailing out, the vines grasped, desperate for purchase. The survivors fled farther along the chasm’s edge, nearing the tablet. As the flyers had nearly finished carrying over the others, the last few risked jumping.

My eyes squeezed shut against the burn and the strain. It was getting harder to breathe. I buried my face in his chest.

A guttural, grinding crack shook through the earth as the interior of the palace crumpled inward.

The remaining survivors were sprinting. Flying.

Leaping where they could. The children were over, pressed as far back from the edge as the black forest and immovable mist would allow.

The chasm cracked wider—feet, then yards.

A house-sized chunk fell away on the palace side.

“No—” My breath strangled in my throat. The vines pulsed again. I searched for Osric. Then I spotted him on the far side, physically restrained by Rasoul, his teeth bared as he tried to get to us. I shook my head at him, willing him to understand, pleading.

The earth heaved again with a low, guttural roar. A fresh crack split the palace-facing ledge, sending another slab of stone shearing away into the depths. The sound of its fall was lost in the rising wind.

I clutched at Vetle’s arm, barely upright, heart hammering. The column beneath us groaned once more, the seam down its center widening with a sharp, splintering snap.

Four guards burst from the courtyard, wings straining hard against the bloodied wind.

Rope coiled around their torsos and shoulders, thick bundles of it weighing them down.

They struggled upward, fighting the downdrafts and the crosswinds that threatened to slam them into the palace walls or send them careening over the chasm's edge.

Gehn was in the lead, his grey wings straining.

Lou followed close behind, his smaller frame fighting harder against the gusts.

Between them, they carried large triple-thick loops of winch rope, ready to slip over the column.

Two other guards I didn't recognize flanked them, all four battling their way toward us.

Stone shattered behind them. A portion of one of the final towers crumbled, vanishing into the abyss below. The entire world jolted as more otherworldly screams shook the land. A hand appeared once more in the clouds, highlighted in red and then fading almost as fast as it appeared.

Vetle leaned forward, supporting me with one arm and reaching the other out as the guards neared.

“Here!” he roared. “Here—hover past the column. The wind will carry it no matter what you do. Don’t get too low.”

The guards strained through the air and flew past us near the column, dodging vines that whipped up from below, snapping near their ankles.

“Drop the coils!” Vetle bellowed, his voice barely strong enough to carry over the wind. “Don’t let her grab you yet!” His body shuddered against mine. His wings drooped slightly before he forced them back up.

The draining had intensified, pulling at something deep inside me—not just my magic, but my very essence.

Everything felt distant, muffled, like I was sinking underwater.

My eyes slid shut. Then something coarse and hard struck my face, cutting my cheek.

The pulling loop. The rope scratched against my face, rough fibers grounding me to the moment.

I forced my eyes open, the world swimming.

Vetle’s fingers were already moving, working the rope despite the vines constricting around us both.

My good hand fumbled with the coarse fibers as I kept my broken hand tight against my chest. Together, we looped and pushed, our movements clumsy and desperate as another wave of draining energy pulsed through us.

My knees buckled, but Vetle kept me upright.

The eels shot out around the pulling line and shoved it over the column’s side facing the palace.

The rope caught, held. The guards circled back, fighting against the gale. Another coil dropped, this one thicker, and I grabbed for it with my good hand. The rough hemp bit into my palm as I helped guide it over the column's edge. My arm trembled with the effort, muscles screaming in protest.

“Tell the others!” Vetle shouted hoarsely to the airborne guards. “Any who are winged and willing—cross here to the column and let the vines grab hold. Together, we pull her toward the portal!”

One of the younger guards nodded sharply and wheeled midair, the second already following. They surged back toward the gathering survivors.

Gehn and Lou dropped down. Lou hit first, his boots skidding across the cracked stone, and Gehn landed a heartbeat after him, teeth gritted, wings folding tight against the pull of the gale.

"Don’t get on your knees for me again, sweet thorn," he murmured, his breath ragged against my ear. "We have to stand a little more."

The vines squeezed tighter, and I screamed as the draining sensation intensified. It felt like something inside me was being torn free, ripped away strand by strand. Vetle's shadows exploded outward again, giving us a moment of respite.

Again the wind surged in a shrieking blast that mirrored the wails of the eidons.

More of the chasm’s edge gave way, tumbling into the abyss with a sound like bones splintering.

The voice above bellowed, agony and rage rippling through every syllable.

A strange chittering rose on both sides of the chasm and within the fog.

My legs gave way. Vetle caught me, his arm steadying me before I could fall. Gehn and Lou were beside him, bracing the ropes.

I tried to push myself upright, my legs shaking so badly I could barely keep any footing. The draining sensation pulsed again, and I gasped. I shoved myself forward, fighting to drag the vines with me.

It took everything I had left to force my legs straight beneath me. The world tilted sickeningly, black and grey eating at the edges of my vision. Vetle's arm was the only thing keeping me from collapsing completely as we took that first trembling step toward the edge of the column and the bridge.

The vines pulled taut around us, writhing and clenching. Two more fae landed on the column, the vines wrapping around them. The crushing draining sensation eased with each one.

I took a step toward the bridge, my legs threatening to give out again.

Vetle's arm tightened around my waist as we moved together, dragging the vines with us.

The weight was immense, like trying to haul an entire forest behind us.

Each step sent jolts of agony through my broken hand, and the draining sensation pulsed in waves that made my head spin.

The bridge stretched before us, impossibly narrow, a thread of stone over hungry darkness.

"One step," Vetle rasped beside me. "Then another. Don’t look down."

I forced my foot forward. The vines resisted, pulling back toward the chasm's depths. Behind us, Gehn and Lou braced themselves against the column, gripping the ropes as they leaned back with all their weight. Two more fae landed, their boots hitting stone with sharp cracks. The vines lashed out, wrapping around their legs and torsos. They cried out but held their ground, adding their strength to ours. This time though the vines didn’t bind their legs as tightly.

Another step. The world blacked out, then came back.

Lightning flashed, and I was staring down into Aerithyn’s terrified face. The wailing desperate screams from above and below intensified.

Vetle dragged me forward, my feet fumbling to keep pace. One of his eels shot up beneath my foot and steadied me.

The bridge groaned beneath us as cracks spiderwebbed.

More fae crossed to help. I heard their wingbeats, heard them landing behind us on the column. Heard their gasps as the vines seized them. The pulling eased incrementally with each new body, distributing the terrible weight.

The earth rumbled beneath us, a low warning growl that vibrated up through the stone and into my bones. I felt it before I heard it—the grinding, splintering sound of rock giving way.

"Faster!" Gehn's voice rang out behind us. "The column's breaking!"

Screams erupted on the other side by the portal. I forced my head up, then my heart snagged in my throat.

My gaze searched once more for Osric.

I spotted him, Rasoul still holding him fast. But then, near the portal, spindly-legged forms loomed up from the mist.

No! Maker, no!

Chitter hounds.