Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(102)

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered. With a pull of her hand, the blade rose. She punched her fist forward and the blade sailed through the air, the rope tied at its hilt zooming with it. She curled her fingers forward and the blade followed her command, flying in a sharp arc before burying itself in the roof of the carriage with a distant thud.

“Wépa!” Finn punched the air in victory. The prisoner jumped in fright next to the carriage, but then she seemed to understand. She climbed onto the carriage roof and Finn could see her gripping the hilt of the blade, keeping it secure. Finn turned to look at Alfie triumphantly, but his eyes were half closed. A new trickle of blood oozed from his nose. Guilt wormed through her and she thought of each time she’d called upon the dark magic, how each time had struck him like a blow, and yet when they’d reunited and she’d explained herself, his face had changed, as if the pain from the magic had been worth it because it brought her back to him, safe.

Finn felt a spark of something within her, something that had been there for some time, but was only just waking from its slumber—something lush that raised its head and asked to be seen.

Finn buried it deep inside her and vowed to forget its face.

She crouched beside him. “Prince, we’re ready to go.”

Alfie nodded before wiping at his nose and slowly standing.

When he met her gaze he murmured, “I’m fine.”

She didn’t know what bothered her more, the fact that she’d looked concerned enough to warrant that sentence or that he was clearly lying through his teeth.

“You first.”

Alfie shuffled to the edge of the roof where the rope flew down over the edge in a steep slope, taut with tension. He took a layer of his due?o disguise and wrapped it around the rope, holding it on either side.

He gulped as he peered at the sharp drop. The steam from the boiling moat sizzled beneath them. “If this fails, we’ll be boiled alive.”

Finn stared down at the bubbling water, a trickle of sweat rolling down her temple to hang on her chin. “Well, I’ve always been a fan of dumplings.”

That stopped him short. After a beat of silence, a broken laugh parted his lips, and Finn was glad to hear it.

He did it so rarely that it felt hard-earned, sending a surge of pride through her. With her crouching beside him, she could feel his breath ghosting over her face and she was drawn back to the swipe of his thumb across her skin, of how such a quick touch had stopped her cold.

He tilted his face up to look at her, his gold eyes glinting. “That joke was so bad that now I actually want to jump.”

Behind them the blockade of collapsed rock burst outward, pelting them with gravel. The black-eyed prisoners poured through its opening, crawling over one another to try to reach them.

“Then I’ve got great comic timing! Go!”

The prince pushed off from the roof and zoomed down the rope. They were supposed to go one at a time in case the rope couldn’t take their combined weight, but there was no time now. No time to even sit and push off like the prince had done.

Finn leaped after him, her legs pumping through the air as if she could run the distance if she tried hard enough. Her stomach twisted as her feet left the safety of the roof. She raised the cloth from the prince’s robes over her head, a flood of doubt pouring through her mind.

What if the cloth rips?

What if the rope isn’t secure enough to hold the two of us?

Am I about to be boiled alive?

Time sped up. Finn fell forward, looping the cloth of the robes over the rope at the last possible moment. The cloth held, her wrists twinging with pain as the rope brought her fall to a jerking halt. She slid down the rope, following after the prince, relief running through her.

An unnatural shriek tore through the air behind her. Finn looked over her shoulder in time to see a black-eyed woman leap from the roof toward her at terrifying speed, her outstretched hands clawing through the air.

The prisoner wrapped her arms around Finn’s waist, dragging the rope down.

“Shit!” Finn wriggled, trying to shake the woman off, but her grip was too tight. Her hands were slipping on the cloth as they zoomed on, picking up speed thanks to the extra weight.

“Fuerza!” she heard the prince shout.

The infected woman at her waist was blown back, nearly taking Finn with her. With a grimace Finn watched the woman careen down, slamming into the ground just beside the moat. She didn’t have time to shout a thank-you to the prince. That woman’s weight had done its damage. She could feel the rope dipping and sagging; the extra weight had likely pulled too much on the sword embedded in the carriage roof. Finn could see Xiomara leaning all her weight on it to keep it still, but it wasn’t working. The rope was still sagging.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Finn cursed. The rope was going to dip too low and send them straight into the boiling water just before landing.

The prince seemed to notice the problem. Before her, he swung his legs forward, like a child on a swing, and just before the rope dipped too close to the water, he let go of his cloth and let the momentum carry him that final distance to safe, solid ground. He rolled onto the ground in a heap of red due?o’s robes.

Finn followed his lead, swinging herself forward with all her might and letting go just before her toes skimmed the water.

She flew through the air, but she didn’t have the prince’s long limbs. She didn’t know if her momentum would be enough.