Page 53 of The Ordeals
‘DeWinter, stop. Stop clutching at thin air. You wouldn’t get five paces in.’
I lower my voice. ‘Will you … can you make it through the rest of the maze?’
‘I think so.’ He looks back at the group of hopefuls, moving inch by painfully slow inch. Two of them are glancing back at Richards now, with Tessa caught mid-stride, mouth open as though trying to shout a warning. Then Alden says far quieter, ‘I hope so.’
‘Is this like a complex? Being a hero? Could you burn out?’
‘If I did, you’d have to help me get through the Ordeal,’ he grits out. ‘Believe me, I don’t like the thought of burning out. But we’re lacking options and as far as I can see, I’m the only botanist present.’
‘Tessa, just stay put. Alden’s gearing up!’ Greg calls across the lawn, hopping from foot to foot.
‘You’re infuriating!’ I say to Alden, scrubbing my hands downmy face. But I glance at Tessa, the terror in her features, Richards only a few feet behind, and I know I can’t stop him. I need Tessa to get through this with us. I care about her, and I cannot see another person I care about die. I cannot. I have to trust Alden; I have to putallmy trust in him and, in a lifetime of assignments and training, learning to operate solo, that’s a hard thing to do.
The hedges ruffle around us, as though watchful and knowing. There is something almost sentient about this place, something hungry. And as I rake my gaze over the hopefuls, the man with the knife, who has stopped moving completely, Richards with his raised axe, the three women now half turned towards Richards, features widening into screams … I realise this place may well be hungry. For blood, for magic … for death.
‘Get ready to move. The magic I’ll be using … I’ve heard that some plants alter and shift when a wielder tries to manipulate them. This whole place might turn on us.’
‘Nowyou share that …’ I say. But as I glance up, there’s a low moaning sound, the hedges leaning in further, the exits from this clearing narrowing. And I can’t find any glints of illusion or another wielder’s magic.
This maze is alive.
It’s ravenous.
I notice an ironic smile flit across Alden’s features briefly, before a frown pinches them once more.
He takes a breath, throws out his hands—
Andunleashes.
I’ve never seen raw magic like this. I freeze, watching as a storm of power blasts through the clearing, glints and glimmers so bright, it’s like he’s painted the clearing gold. It’s beautiful and eerie … and something I know I will never be able to wield. My power, my magic is like the flame of a candle; his is a roaring furnace.
Alden grunts, a vein throbbing in his temple, and I reach for him without thinking, bracing my hand on his arm. There’s a jolt, electricity or lightning orsomething, but I hold my hand there, feeling magic come alive in my veins, just like the air around us. I’ve never felt this before. Never felt it course through me like this, alive and fizzing, overflowing … This must be his magic. Alden’s. Somehow, I can feel it.
The hedges seem to curl away, as though the magic in this space, on this lawn is too big. Too much. But I keep my hand on his arm, keep this connection between us alive. I glance over at the hopefuls and find them blinking, the colour of their skin and clothes flowing down them, the stone washed away. Tessa moves first. As soon as her limbs obey, she dashes across the lawn and hurls herself at Greg, wrapping her arms around him. I exhale in relief as the other hopefuls all gain use of their arms and legs, all except for Richards, shifting off the lawn as well. None of the others died from the immobilant in this trap, but this isn’t over.
We’re still caught in this maze.
‘Alden, that’s enough. Let go,’ I say, shaking his arm. ‘You don’t need to give any more. You’ll free Richards, then we’re all fucked.Alden!’
He doesn’t reply and I notice the sweat along his hairline, the way he’s drawing each breath, too shallow and too fast—
‘Alden!’ I move to him, gripping both his arms and shake. But raw magic is still pouring from him, crackling in the air above the lawn. The hedges shift and sway around us, leaning in once more, as though they can taste it, taste the power and life flowing from Alden’s hands. Panic wells inside me and I pummel both fists into his chest, grinding my knuckles into his ribs. He winces, but doesn’t stop and I realise … he can’t.
I pull his face down to mine and scream his name once more. He’s burning out. He’s burning out and I can’t stop it, I can’t save him, just like Dolly, just like that night. ‘Alden,’ I whisper. I have to do something. I can’t see him die like this,not like this—
Twisting back to the lawn, I force myself to breathe. Focusing on the magic in this place, the magic of the lawn, then his magic. And I begin to unpick it. The work I did with Lewellyn, then the work she set me with those photographs giving me the framework to know what to do. I bite my lip, working as fast as I can, finding every thread that isn’t the strange poison in the lawn, that’s him, and pull it free.
I pullhimfree.
He staggers back. The flow of magic ceases, the honey-gold light vanishing. He drops his hands to his thighs, breathing hard, and I go to him without thinking. I place my hands on his face, feeling the contours of his jaw, the warmth that bathes me when his eyes lock with mine. He sinks to the ground. He’s still not drawn a breath.
‘Alden,’ I whisper. ‘Stay with me.’
Then I fall to my knees, needing to fill his lungs, to feel the wings of them open inside his chest, and bring my mouth to his. All at once he shudders, hauling in a breath, his hands finding my face and he’s kissing me. His kiss is like ice, like he’s burned and burned, and I deepen it, pulling him to me, remembering his scent from the day we first met, how my veins filled with molten heat that night in my room. But it’s not feather-soft like then, nor a dance between us like the day in the bar. It’s hungry and desperate and raw. I bring my body flush with his, winding my hands around the back of his neck, and he breaks away for a heartbeat, eyes locked with mine. Then I lean in slowly to lick along his bottom lip.
A growl rips from his throat as he kisses me back, harder, hismouth moving with mine, his hands roaming down, down, arms coming around my waist …
Heat rushes through me, churning up my thoughts, and a breathless moan escapes my throat. He tastes divine, his mouth fitting perfectly with mine, and all I want to do is spin this out, fall into it and dissolve into this perfect moment.
