Page 33 of Ozma

Because if there wasn’t, they were dead.

Pain seared across Jack’s back. A breath was torn from him, only to be met with a mouthful of freezing cold water. Too stunned by the razor-sharp sting and frigid temperature, he didn’t immediately try to surface as the pool of water swallowed him.

Them.

His grip on Ozma had become steel—a reflex against the shock. It was her struggling against him in an attempt to swim that finally snapped him out of it. With a powerful kick, Jack catapulted them upward until they found the surface. They both gasped, the sound echoing off the cavernous stone walls. Specks of blue light reflected off the water’s rippling surface and the sound of sloshing water filled his ears.

“Are you okay?” Jack choked out.

Ozma nodded, teeth chattering. The blue light dancing on her face gave her an ethereal appearance. “You?”

“I’ll live.” Assuming there was somewhere to exit the water. If not, they would quickly exhaust themselves swimming and drown. His back hurt so tremendously from slapping the surface of the pool that he couldn’t inhale deeply. He needed a place to lie down for a moment and collect himself.

Jack scanned the area, more than grateful for the glow of the bugs. They cast everything in breathtaking wonder. If it weren’t for their situation, Jack would’ve loved to gaze up at them in awe all night long. But theywerein a situation. A fucking bad one.

Smooth rock curved up to the hole they’d fallen from. It was impossible to tell how far they’d tumbled, but far enough that the opening seemed no larger than an average pumpkin. Vines hung around the edges like fringe. There was no climbing back up, even if the walls offered footholds.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Fuck.Fuck.”

“There,” Ozma rasped, pointing. “Shore.”

Jack’s eyes found what she meant, but he hardly considered it ashore. A slab of stone stuck out from the wall, large enough for perhaps a dozen fae to sit comfortably, but there was no obvious exit. “There’s—” His words caught when he found the spot beside him empty. Heart stumbling over itself, his eyes quickly landed on a blonde head already gliding toward it.

A relieved sigh fell from his chest as he started after her. He swam as fast as he could with the ache radiating through him. It took more out of him than he would admit aloud as he caught up to Ozma at the rock. Jack heaved himself over the ledge first. The stone was warm—too warm considering the cold water and lack of sunlight—but he wasn’t about to complain. Taking Ozma’s hand, he hauled her up beside him and collapsed on his stomach.

“Jack?” Ozma touched his back and a hiss escaped from between his teeth. “You said you were okay…”

He grunted. “I said I’d live.”

“Let me see.” Ozma began sliding his shirt up his back.

“Blossom,” he said, rolling slightly away, “relax. Let me catch my breath, then we’ll look for a way out of here.”

She sat back, releasing his shirt, and exhaled loudly. “You catch your breath whileIfind a way out.”

“Sure,” he said, too tired to argue, and closed his eyes.

A few minutes of careful breathing and Jack felt slightly less winded. He lifted his head, rested his chin on his folded hands, and watched Ozma flip through her satchel then scour the cave for an exit. The fabric of her dress clung to her curves in a way that made him want to touch her—if only moving didn’t hurt as much as it did. The kiss, the feel of her body last night, only made the desire worse.

“We’re trapped,” Ozma finally declared. She spun on her heel and looked at him with fear in her eyes. “There’s no way out of here.”

“There’s always a way,” Jack told her. He wouldn’t let them die in this place. Too many unseen things were left on his and Tip’s list to perish now.

She chewed on her bottom lip and peered up at the opening. “If I had my wings…”

“Wait—what?” He winced as pain prickled worse with his stunned shout. “Wings?”

Ozma pursed her lips, not meeting his gaze. “Mombi cut them off with her magic. The scar on my back…”

Jack remembered the scar. It was large enough for him to see from a distance that night he’d followed her to the lake. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. The words seemed louder with the way they echoed through the cavern—or perhaps it was only because his mind was reeling. First, she had a map inside her, and now she had severed wings.

“Don’t be.” Ozma returned to kneel at Jack’s side. “I’ll get them back once we find the silver slippers.”

Ifthey got them, though Jack admired her tenacity.

“Jack?”

At her nervous tone, he turned his head so he could study her better. “What?”

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