Page 135 of A Sword of Ice
“Never thoughtI’d die like this.” Clay’s fingers grasped at the wall behind him, nails chipping the already crumbling structure even further. His feet were balanced precariously against the ledge, toes hanging over the edge. A single movement would send him toppling over to his death. His body would be greeted by the debris below, his every bone would splinter into thousands of pieces until he was an unrecognizable mass of flesh and blood.
He cringed to think of the wounds Ryker would try to heal.
If Ryker was even alive right then.
Maybe his friend had found himself in a similar situation as Clay and Weylyn currently. The whole side of this castle had caved in, and they were stuck balancing on the edge of what had once been the hallway, their backs pressed tightly to the wall. There was nowhere to go, as everything had disintegrated on either side of them.
They were well and truly fucked.
“We are not dead yet,” Weylyn purred.
Clay wanted to turn sharply to the Fae at his side, but the only thing keeping him from doing that was that the brisk movement would cause him to plummet to his demise. But he swore he heard the hint of fucking delight in the bastard’s voice, and he knew if he looked at his expression, he’d find his eyes glowing brightly.
As if anything about this was fucking amusing.
“Key word being ‘yet’,” Clay spat. His eyes kept darting downwards, and it threw him completely off balance.
“Do not look down.”
“Great fucking advice, Weylyn.”
“I am being helpful.”
“It would be even more helpful if you found a way to get us out of this mess.” His eyes flicked on the horizon, his stomach sinking, and not just because of what he found marching from the trees; rather,how many.
Well and truly fucked,he thought.
Weylyn snorted. “What manner of fool do you take me for?”
Clay bit his tongue instead of replying to that. If only because what he had to say wasn’t anything pleasant, and he didn’t appeal to the thought of bearing the brunt of Weylyn’s anger or mischief.
Instead, he focused his gaze across the horizon and winced, his nails grasping frantically at the wall, when another boulder hit the opposite side of the castle, rattling it from its roots. It made Clay’s stomach tighten with nausea. When the feeling finally subsided and a new scent hit his nostrils, he almost choked.
“Ashwood…” The word scraped from his throat, caught, and when he coughed, he felt the slightest tang of blood in his mouth. “Great. Just what we needed.”
“Silence,” Weylyn growled.
“How the fuck are we getting out of this?” His eyes had already darted around the moment he’d found them in this position. There was nothing to help them, nowhere to go. The beam above their heads jutted out, and Clay wasn’t sure he could reach it without falling, and he wasn’t sure if it was even fucking safe anyway.
“Silence,” Weylyn repeated.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Clay snarled. “I am so sick of your shit.”
“Will you be silent andlisten?” The harsh tone of his voice had Clay shutting up instantly.
He’d never heard the cadence of that particular tone. So he tilted his head a fraction to the side, and that’s when he heard it.
Meow.
Clay’s head jerked up in the direction of the single beam overhead. Balanced along the edge sat a little black beast with wide, almost demonic eyes.
It stared at Clay and whined,meow.
Clay’s head thunked against the wall. “How are we supposed to get ourselves out of here aliveandhelp Ryker’s familiar in the process?”
“You are the one with the clever ideas.”
“Now is not the time to display this sarcastic side of you, asshole.”
