Gasping, fighting off the blackness that creeps at the edges of my vision, I struggle to sit up. I'm having trouble focusing and the world is a messy blur. My head throbs and there's still no air in my stupid lungs and I can't breathe and that's terrifying enough on its own—

And then I'm able to take a shallow breath. Then another. I cough, desperate and relieved. The blackness fades away and I'm able to focus on my surroundings despite the throb in my head. I realize after a moment that I'm still straddling Aron, my legs thrown over his, my butt resting in the cradle of his hips.

I landed on top of him and it nearly killed me. I don't know how it didn’t kill me, and yet I'm still here. Even so…that must mean Aron's dead. I stare down in horror at the man underneath me, his eyes closed, his dark hair spread out around him like a halo in the dust. That dusky red scar that bisects one half of his face stands out like a bloodstain.

He opens his mismatched eyes and scowls at me.

"Oh my god," I choke out. "You're alive."

"Why would I not be?"

"Because we shouldn't be?" I glance up, looking for the dangling end of the rope. It's swaying in the wind, high above us, barely visible in the shadows of the Citadel. Oh god. "How did we survive that?"

"I believe I am still immortal, despite being trapped on this plane. You are the mortal part of this pairing. As long as I protect you, I suspect I am safe."

That makes a lot of horrifying sense. It explains why I'm eating and why he's not. Why I'm sleeping and why he's not. Why everyone would attack me and not him. "I have no idea how that makes me feel," I whisper.

"Me either." And Aron frowns to himself, as if displeased with this realization.

As he does, it comes to my attention that I'm still straddling him. My hands are splayed across his chest. Our bodies are posed not as if we've just taken a tumble but as if we're in bed together and I've decided to be on top. I can feel my cheeks grow heated at the thought, and Aron's eyes narrow as he gazes at me, and I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.

Then I remember last night's humiliating dinner in the audience chamber with Tadekha, when I rubbed myself all over Aron like a cat in heat and he petted me between my thighs like it was some sort of obligation. Ugh. I fling myself off of him, rolling to the ground.

I flop down on my back, staring up at the sky. The rope swings back and forth high above, taunting me. The Citadel itself is beautiful in the sunlight, glittering like a translucent many-tiered wedding cake floating in the deep blue sky. It's the prettiest thing I've ever seen…too bad it's filled with assholes. Or just one big asshole. I think of lovely, dainty Tadekha and the smug smile on her face. I think of the adoring shimmering-winged angel women she surrounds herself with. I think of last night, when Tadekha's anchor eagerly planted her face between the goddess's thighs and muff-dived as if her life depended on it.

Next to me, Aron staggers to his feet and dusts off his plain red tunic. His hands slap at the fabric and it sends a wave of dust into my face, causing me to choke and cough again. "It is time to go," Aron tells me.

I don't want to get up just yet. In fact, it would be great if I didn't have to move again, ever. "Everything hurts," I tell him. "Let's give ourselves a few minutes, okay?" The thought of hauling myself to my feet and walking these endless dirt plains seems like a terrible idea. Damn it all, maybe we should have taken our chances with the guards, tried to shanghai the Citadel from Tadekha's grasp.

"Get up," Aron says bluntly. "There is no time to waste."

Isn't there? The Citadel is peacefully drifting overhead, and while there are no birds chirping, it's still rather serene. I want to stay here just long enough to have a nap and let my throbbing, aching body recover.

As I stare up at the floating crystal city, something small and dark flies through the air toward it. For a brief moment, I think it's a bowling ball, and that makes me pause, because why would a bowling ball be flying through the air—

A crashing sound like a thousand glasses breaking interrupts the silence. Overhead, I watch as one delicate tower collapses on itself and a rain of crystal chunks fall from the sky overhead toward the ground.

Toward me, stretched out on the ground.

I gasp, but before I can do anything, Aron's covering me with his body, and there's a tinkle like windchimes all around us as the crystals rain to the dirt.

"What was that?" I manage to choke out, covering my mouth with one gauzy sleeve. The air's filled with dust and crystal fragments.

"Trebuchet," he tells me, voice abrupt. His expression is that pissy, impatient look he always wears, and I know what he's thinking—he just had to save my ass again. "It is time to go."

"Let's go," I tell him faintly. I don't want to be underneath the Citadel as it's attacked. That might be the worst place possible—death from above and death from the troops that approach closer and closer.

Perhaps escape wasn't such a good plan after all.

OceanofPDF.com

20

We walk across the dusty, crumbly hills of the Dirtlands. Or at least, Aron walks. I sort of stagger behind him, my entire body throbbing with pain. If he's hurting from his fall, he doesn't show it in the slightest. His form is as straight as ever, his clothing unblemished by what we’ve gone through. Meanwhile, my filmy dress is torn in several places, and the hem is covered in dirt. I'm sweaty and the fabric sticks to me in unpleasant places. Elegant, I'm not.

How I look doesn't matter, though. All that matters is getting away from the Citadel because it is most definitely under attack. Every so often, there's a sound like a crash of windchimes, and when I turn back to look, smoke pours up from one of the graceful, spindly towers of the floating city. I think of all the people there with horror, because where are they supposed to go? Sure, Tadekha’s ladies have wings, but they didn’t strike me as particularly warlike. I don't see anyone flying around the Citadel itself, so I'm guessing they're not much in the way of defenses. I think of the soldiers in the hall—they didn't have wings. Seems like an oversight to me. I stare up, shielding my eyes against the sunlight, wondering if they're all doomed.

A hand grabs mine and I yelp, even as a shock jolts up my arm.

"This is no time to stare," Aron tells me. "We are still too close."

"Sorry," I tell him, and grab a handful of my long, flowing skirts with my free hand, because he's not letting go of my other. I'm forced to trot behind him, no easy feat considering I have no shoes and the ground beneath our feet is crumbling and loose dirt, but we manage.

We continue like this for what feels like hours, Aron half dragging, half hauling me along behind him, and me stumbling after him. Without shade, the day gets hot, and there's no food or drink to be found. I want to cry at how overheated I am, but there's no point—it's not like there's a lemonade stand anywhere. I just need to suck it up and keep going. It's towards sunset that there's a terrible, roaring sound and the ground trembles beneath our feet. I tear my hand out of Aron's ruthless grasp and come to a halt, gasping and staring at the ground. "What…the fuck…was that? An earthquake?"