Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy #1)(118)
She shrank against the banister. Sweat drenched her clothes, her wounds were bleeding, and her breath was ragged and shallow. A lump of panic rose in her throat as she assessed her options: a precarious fall behind her, and a fight she could not win in front of her.
The yaeger frowned. His jaw hardened. “I told you, I wished not to kill as fine a warrior as yourself. Such talent is already difficult enough to come across in this world.”
Linn shivered. “We Kemeirans believe that everything in life was meant to be; that there is a fate behind every event and every meeting.” She had no idea why she was telling him this, but the words of her homeland and her Wind Masters brought her comfort in her last moments. “Perhaps…perhaps you will be the death of me.”
His eyes narrowed. She could glean no emotion from them whatsoever. “Why do you not seek to kill me?” he asked.
“Action, and counteraction,” she whispered. “That is our belief—that every action has a counteraction. You attacked, and I defended. You had no intention to take my life, therefore I had no right to take yours. And now, I am paying for that choice with my life.” She would die without a blade in her hands and without the wind in her face, cornered like a coward.
Linn squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to shake. She had thought of death many times, but not like this. No—she had always pictured a glorious death, a warrior’s death, plunging from the skies by the side of her fellow windsailers as a Kemeiran should.
A breeze stirred behind her, rippling the folds of her clothes and cooling her sweat-soaked back. Courage, it seemed to whisper. Courage.
The empty space behind her seemed to expand. And suddenly, she realized that she could still fight with the winds at her back and the stars above her head.
Something like regret flashed in the soldier’s eyes. “I am truly sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be,” Linn said. She arched her back and kicked off. Using her arms to grip the balustrade, she swung herself over.
And then she was falling.
It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time: the wind roaring in her ears, the world tumbling all around her, and the knowledge that there was nothing and no one to catch her below and save her. Her scream was trapped in her throat, and for the first time in a long time, she felt a slip of her old self stir. She flung out her arms. Her instincts kicked in, and she pivoted so that she was falling feetfirst.
She was in free fall. The feeling of weightlessness, of uncertainty and freedom in every breath she gasped, was utterly frightening and familiar at once.
She felt as though she were…flying.
The white crenellated Palace walls rushed up to meet her. Linn slammed onto the ground, flexing her knees and staggering her fall to catch her balance. The momentum was still too strong.
Her hand flew out, and she felt a jolt as her palm hit the ground, followed by a sharp streak of pain in her wrist. Linn cried out, but through the daze of pain and blur of tears, she was somehow running, somehow pushing herself forward with each step toward the edge of the wall.
A shout rang in the night. Linn kept running.
Ten, fifteen steps. The moon slid behind the clouds, cloaking the night in utter darkness.
I am shadows and wind. I am the invisible girl.
The pressure on her Affinity lifted, clearing like fog above a lake. A feeling of serenity passed through her, followed by elation as her winds roared to life by her side.
For a moment, Linn wanted to slow her steps, to turn and look at the watchtower above.
Instead, she put on a burst of speed and ran for the edge of the walls.
Twenty, thirty steps. The wind was a pack of invisible wolves, darting by her side and howling in triumph.
Thirty-nine, forty steps—
Linn leapt. And then she was airborne, her winds roaring all around her, reacting to the slightest of her pulls and pushes and carrying her light body. A delighted laugh burst from her mouth as she flung out her arms, letting childhood instincts take over. For a glorious moment, she was in Kemeira again, soaring beneath the eternal blue skies and between mist-cloaked mountains.
The moon slid out from behind the clouds, bathing her in its cool fluorescence. The white waters of the Tiger’s Tail churned below her, its waves reaching up as though to greet her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure outlined against the balustrade of the watchtower. Watching her.
Action, and counteraction.
Linn kept her gaze on him for a moment longer, pulling on her winds to slow her descent. Even as she hurtled toward the Tiger’s Tail, a part of her realized that the soldier had spared her life today. And she couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d become entwined in a new strand of destiny with this cold enemy, this fierce warrior—for better or for worse.
Linn curled into herself as tightly as she could. And plunged into the icy river.
The first thing she felt was the cold. And then came scent: the unmistakably musty smell of damp stone and stale air.
Ana shifted a hand and felt a cool, hard surface beneath her. Her head spun, and her body felt sluggish, as though she had just woken from a deep sleep. Her muscles were stiff, but she could feel the effects of the paralysis potion fading already.
She opened her eyes. The darkness was absolute, but she recognized this place. There was nowhere else in this world that carried such a strong stench of hopelessness and taste of absolute fear. Papa had always told her that this was a place full of demons.