The temperature’sdropped by at least fifteen degrees, which wouldn’t be so bad if I was dressed for a visit to Tasmania in winter. In fairness, I had no idea it would be so cold, especially since we’re truly not that far away from dry heat.
I’ve given up all pretence of handling the cooler temperature and am full-on snuggling against Kael’s back. While his armour is uncomfortable, it’s warm from his body heat, and my teeth have somewhat diminished chattering.
“We’re not far.” Kael’s voice is strained, whether from my discomfort or his own, since I’m clinging to him, I don’t know. But he hasn’t pushed me away or asked me not to strangle him. What he has done is picked up the pace, which seems like a hell of a feat since he was likely already going a good 40 kph.
Needless to say, I’ve never been in these parts before. The way to Iris’s home is simply in my head, a descriptive route I committed to memory before she left Dathanor—something I promised I’d do so I could reach her if needed.
“A little higher and we’ll camp.” Kael jumps over a gap in the increasingly jagged rock, making my teeth rattle.
I grunt in answer. It’s all I can manage.
The wind howls as the temperature plummets further, cutting through my clothes like icy daggers. The first flakes of snow swirl around us, lighter than back home, almost luminous as they catch the dim light. It’s beautiful in a way, but I’m too busy focussing on not freaking out to appreciate it.
Kael moves effortlessly, muscles flexing beneath me as he scales the uneven terrain. I try not to look down, but a gust of wind makes me sway, and my stomach lurches. Definitely a mountain.
Shit.
“Hold on,” he warns, his voice a steady anchor against the storm. “I will keep you safe.” His sigh is soft, as are the words “Now and always” that follow, but I hear them all the same.
The words shouldn’t mean so much, but they do. They settle into my bones, a promise I desperately want to believe in.
I bury my face against his shoulder, squeezing my eyes shut as he lunges forwards, leaping onto the next ledge. His grip is sure, his body a force of nature as he clutches the rock face with one hand before swinging his other arm up to secure us.
I’m clinging to him so tightly, I’m probably cutting off his air supply. “Please don’t let me die,” I mutter.
Kael grunts, the sound almost amused. “You won’t.”
To distract myself, I start talking—nonsense, mostly. Stories about home, about Sydney’s blistering summers, the scent of eucalyptus in the air, the chaotic energy of city life. I tell him about the beaches, the sand that burns your feet, the weird wildlife that could probably kill you just as easily as whatever’s out here.
Kael hums in response, a low vibration beneath me. He’s listening.
“You sure I’m not distracting you?” I ask after a moment, my voice tight with nerves.
Another grunt, this one more deliberate. “Your voice… helps. Keeps me focussed.”
That startles me into silence, but only for a second. “Really?”
He exhales sharply, and it almost sounds like a laugh. “Yes.”
That tiny, unexpected response warms something in my chest, pushing back against the cold.
Then it happens.
He reaches for the next ledge—a solid rock, or so it seems. But the moment his fingers curl around the edge, it crumbles. I scream as we lurch downwards.
Kael reacts instantly. He twists midair, shoving off the wall to avoid the falling debris. The movement slams me tighter against him as the chunk of rock crashes down, striking his arm before shattering below.
He grunts, but he doesn’t let go. His grip is iron, his body straining as he finds another hold and pulls us back up.
My heart is hammering so hard, I might pass out. “Kael! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, but his jaw is clenched. His breathing is heavier, controlled but rough.
I glance at his arm—no visible blood, but the way he flexes his fingers makes me suspicious. “That rock hit you pretty hard.”
He doesn’t respond right away, just keeps climbing. When he does speak, it’s quiet. “It’s nothing.”
Bullshit.But what can I do? We’re dangling off the side of a bloody mountain. So, I have no choice. I believe him.
