A cavernous groan rumbles across the bridge, rolling like a marble from behind. My pulse leaps into my throat. I know that sound, had been wondering if there were more of them.
Slowly, I turn on my heels. The cougar stalks from the milky film, its graceful, queenly shoulders rotating. The reams of its peridot irises slit, focusing on me.
“Shit,” I squeak, frozen in place.
The animal opens its maw to reveal a set of sabers distending from its gums. A coliseum’s worth of shouts and cackles encircle the bridge. The Fae are watching, salivating.
One thing I’ll credit them for, they didn’t send this animal after me. They wouldn’t exploit or manipulate the fauna that way, which means these bridges must connect to the feline’s habitat. I’m invading its space. I’m the intruder, imposing myself on the hungry beauty’s turf.
As it is, she already sees my terror, probably smells it wafting from my glands. If I run or turn my back, that will confirm I’m prey.
Which means I’m about to get stupid. Instead of running, I make myself appear as large as possible, expanding my chest and shoulders. Then I take the slightest of steps toward her.
The cougar twitches, suspicion flashing in her pupils. My mouth dries, crisp as parchment. I venture another dumb step, and the creature backs up, hissing with uncertainty.
Silence descends over the scene. The breeze stalls, stifling the Faeries’ jeers. But I don’t need to see or hear them, to know they’re rapt.
Cerulean. Where’s Cerulean?
My glorious jackass of a mate has been making appearances at every turn, and now he decides to pull a disappearing act?
The foundation buckles beneath my weight. A crack wallops through the stillness and breaks the trance. The cougar’s tawny hackles rise, a growl rumbling from its throat. My trembling knuckles slide toward my whip.
The animal pounces. Midflight, a crescent of razors spring from its paws. I dive to the right, tumbling across the bridge and surging to my feet. My whip thrashes the ground in rapid succession, striking the floorboards to ward off the creature. I’m hoping the display will scare it, intimidate it from attacking again. We sidestep one another, but the creature swats. I vault away, the curved daggers of its claws tearing through my skirt but missing flesh.
The cougar’s stronger, smarter, stalking me to the poles, where it hems me in. Yet something’s odd about the way it’s moving. A force keeps winnowing the animal off course, jerking its limb off-kilter. That frustrates the cat, as if…as if the air prevents it from disemboweling me.
The air. The wind.
Cerulean.
Enraged, the cougar shoots from the coils of its haunches. I dodge, clambering onto the slender ledge while thrusting my whip. The weapon—or maybe it’s the wind again—pelts the barbed paw aside, the claws shearing at nothing.
Its tail is another matter. As the defeated animal wheels from the contact and retreats into the mist, her furred appendage thumps into the railing, uprooting my balance. My arms jolt outward, pinwheeling to break the fall.
And I see it. The translucent stream of a gale winding through the ether, rushing toward me. It hooks around my midriff and flings me backward, plunking me safely onto the bridge. The world capsizes. I crumble to the planks, then totter to a sitting position and scan the network.
Overhead, Cerulean looms from a suspension. In spite of the distance, I catch his frenzied expression, all traces of feigned smugness gone.
Now the quiet isn’t riveted. It’s skeptical.
“He’s helping her!” one of the Fae shouts.
Voices carry. Outraged screeches. Stupefied roars.
Cerulean’s gaze swerves toward the cacophony, his ears picking up on the stampede. A legion of wings beat the air, pumping in a frenzy of directions. His complexion pales as he swings back to me.
They’re coming. If he’s rigging the game to my benefit, somebody’s gotta stop him.
Swiftly, he mouths,“Jump.”
I gawk. And then I lurch to my feet, scramble over the railing, and heave myself into the abyss.
The air catches me—and then he catches me.
I land, cupped in Cerulean’s arms, his wings snapping outward. The translucent screens flare, cradling me as he pitches down, zooming toward one of the bridges.
Looping upright, he drops me onto a vacant suspension. Without pausing, Cerulean vaults back into the fog. I can’t see anything, only hear it. Screams and bellows carve through the vista, the whine of steel and whistle of arrows severing the atmosphere.
