Tale of the Heart Queen (Artefacts of Ouranos #4)

Chapter 65

C HAPTER 65

F or several seconds, the platform descends at a steady pace until a horn blasts through the white noise of the spectators, and it plummets. I scream, airborne for several long, stomach-lifting moments before I plunge into the prickly heart of a thick bush.

At first, I’m grateful it broke my fall, but then I realize it’s a tangle of thorns. They cling to my hair and my clothes, pulling, scraping, and tearing as I struggle to extricate myself. I curse a blue streak, not only for the awkwardness of this position but for the fact that I’ve once again been forced into a contest that I never entered.

What kind of sick poetic justice is this?

I continue to struggle as warm blood trickles down my cheek and my hands sting from scratches. Finally, I heave myself over and roll off the bush before collapsing in a heap on the ground, finding a patch of short grass to cushion my landing.

Lor. Where are you?

I fell into a fucking nest of thorns.

Okay, well, I don’t want to alarm you . . .

He drifts off, but I’m already on my feet, running, leaping over small plants and rocks, my arms pumping to gather speed.

I seem to have landed in quicksand.

Fuck.

I weave through a dense tangle of trees and plants while the crowd screams all around us. I try to tune them out, knowing they’re here as a distraction. As I run, I catch the slither of movement in the corner of my eyes, but it’s too fast to identify what’s lurking out here.

Given the nature of our environment, I’m sure there will be deadly monsters or creatures, and who the fuck knows what else waiting for us.

Dry grass crunches under my feet, dust kicking up. I focus on the spot where I think Nadir was standing, hoping I’m headed in the right direction.

I chance a glimpse to my left and then to my right, checking for any signs of danger, when my gaze snags on a small pile deposited against a tree. A sword, a canvas pack, a bow, a quiver of arrows—and my dagger with the heart-shaped stone. I was still wearing it when Rion knocked me out. This is another part of Herric’s sick game.

How much time will I lose if I go for them? I make a split-second decision .

They flicker in and out of focus as if in warning that they won’t remain there for long.

Nadir needs me, but we need these. I swerve right, maintaining my pace as I scoop up the items with a triumphant whoop, when suddenly I’m hanging in the air, upside down, one ankle bound by a rope.

Lor? What happened? I heard you scream.

I’m coming. I’m fine.

I decide not to enlighten him. By some miracle, the dagger is still clutched in my hand while the pack, sword, and bow lie on the ground. Swinging up my top half, I use the dagger to saw at the rope. It’s awkward and difficult, and it only takes a few seconds before my abdominal muscles are screaming. Releasing myself, I dangle upside down for a second before heaving myself up again. I flip up and down until only a few threads remain intact.

Lor!

I’m coming!

I swing around, trying to catch my breath for one more solid slice. Magic burns in my fingertips, and I wish I could use it, but I have to keep this wild card concealed until the right moment. This will be over once Herric realizes the cuffs don’t work on me.

With a final heave, I swing up, slice the rope, and then fall. I hit the ground so hard the wind is knocked out of me, but I force myself to roll, grab the pack, and swing it over my shoulders as I scoop up the sword and the bow and quiver, and then I’m running again.

“Nadir!” I scream .

“Lor!” I hear him in the distance and alter my course, heading towards the sound.

A narrow bridge over a churning river crosses my path. From a distance, I can see it’s barely held together by a wish and a few pieces of fraying rope. My stride doesn’t waver. All I can do is hope I’m fast enough.

When I leap onto the bridge, it shudders ominously under my weight. Refusing to second-guess myself, I run as fast as I can when I feel a jerk behind me. Peering over my shoulder, I see it tear loose from its mooring.

Still running, I leap just as the entire thing collapses under me, and I hit the far edge. My legs dangle over the gap as I cling to my weapons before tossing them in the dirt and hauling myself up.

Then I’m running again. No doubts. No hesitation. Every moment I waste is another opportunity for Nadir to die.

I barrel down a path packed tightly with trees, obscuring anything beyond them. “Nadir!” I scream as my chest and thighs burn with adrenaline. Finally, I emerge to find a wide-open plain dotted with scrub and sparse, spindly trees.

Nadir stands chest high in a patch of sand. Herric must have dumped him right into it.

“Don’t move,” I scream, looking around for something to help. Trees, short grass, and rocks surround me, but not much else.

Rope. I need rope. The bridge. “I’ll be right back.”

I don’t wait for him to answer as I drop everything but the dagger and sprint back the way I came. My surroundings melt into a blur. I feel nothing as a branch scrapes my cheek, and my chest aches with leaden breaths. I can’t think. I can’t stop. The crowd screams and cheers, their judgment and cruelty knocking around the inside of my skull.

Lor!

I’m coming! Hang on!

Returning to where half the bridge dangles from the ledge, I skid to my knees and heave up the rotting planks. With my teeth gritted, I let out a roar and pull with all of my strength, dragging them up, hand over hand. When I have a pile gathered at my feet, I hack away at one end and then unwind a length of rope, moving as fast as I can, my fingers trembling and numb.

I don’t realize I’m crying until I taste salt on my lips.

“I’m coming!” I scream, even though I don’t know if he can hear me. “I’m coming!”

When I think I have enough, I loop it around my arm, and I’m up again. My thighs hurt as I skim through the narrow pathways and emerge back on the other side, finding only the top of Nadir’s head visible.

“Nadir!” I scream.

Quickly, I knot the rope onto the thickest nearby tree I can find. My fingers fumble with the knot and don’t seem to work right. Soft sand slides out from under my feet, making it tricky to keep my balance. The crowd is getting louder and louder, but they become a wash of white noise as I focus on saving my mate.

Tying the other end around my waist, I stagger to the edge of the pool. A small divot in the surface indicates where Nadir disappeared. I take a few steps back and then leap, aiming for a spot just short of that.

My feet hit the sand, and I sink as the rope cinches around my waist, burning through the leather covering my torso. I wiggle to force my body lower, inhaling deep breaths. I don’t think about being buried under the sand or the way it will suffocate me and crush me with its weight. Nadir is the only thing that matters.

I wiggle further up to my shoulders, using my hands to feel around for him. I sink lower and inhale a deep breath before sand covers my mouth and nose.

Nadir. Where are you?

My hands push through the wall of grains, and then I touch something solid and warm. I want to cry, but I focus on squeezing my eyes and mouth shut.

I’m here. I have a rope. But I need your help.

Despite my best efforts, sand fills my nose as I fumble for his hand and wrap it around the rope.

Can you lift us both out?

I feel him moving and shifting as his arms circle around me.

Hang on.

I cling to him as he hauls us up. Inch by inch, we drag through the sand until we break through the surface. We both inhale deep, gasping breaths, choking on the grit. Then we maneuver across the pit, collapsing onto the edge and lying side by side for several long seconds as the world spins overhead.

The crowd explodes into a deafening crescendo of screaming and cheers. I can’t tell if they’re happy for us or mad we succeeded .

Finally, Nadir rolls over and gathers me in his arms. I sob into the curve of his throat, my tears mixing with sand, making everything gritty and . . . just fucking horrible.

“Gods,” I groan, trying to catch my breath.

When we were separated, all I could think about was how I lost him once. But now that he’s here and solid and I can touch him, my mind arranges itself into something more coherent.

Both shaking, we hang on to one another for a few more seconds. The crowd tapers off until the arena is filled only with a soft murmur, probably wondering what we’ll do next.

“We have to keep moving,” he whispers before he kisses a tear away from my cheek. “I don’t think we should stay out here in the open.”

It takes every ounce of my willpower to nod. I just want to lie here, curling into a ball, pretending none of this is real. We roll apart and push up to stand.

Thankfully, the pack and weapons are still where I dropped them. I scan our surroundings, hoping for some clue about what’s coming next. Another sword would be handy. Why is Herric offering us anything at all? Is this just for his amusement?

Nadir opens the pack and pulls out a canteen of water.

“Drink some and wash the sand from your mouth.” He hands it to me while he also watches over our environment. I can practically see him strategizing. I clear my mouth, spitting out the grit, before I take a few long gulps and hand it back.

“Finish it,” I tell him when he stares at it and then up at me with an uncertain expression. After crossing the river, I am reasonably sure we can find more water when needed. Though it’s probably poisoned or something. Or we won’t be alive long enough for it to matter. I shake my head. One problem at a time.

Nadir slings the pack over his shoulders and hangs the quiver over his arm. He picks up the dagger and studies it before he looks over to where Herric watches us. The Lord of the Underworld’s bright grin is visible even from this distance.

“Fucking bastard,” Nadir growls as he hands me the dagger. “Use it to carve out his heart.”

I tuck it into a strap around my thigh.

Nadir then picks up the bow and the sword before he wraps an arm around my waist and draws me in close.

“Keep an eye out,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t tell how long it will take to reach the mountain, but let’s just head straight for it.”

I stare at the mountain looming far in the distance. Without any roadblocks, reaching it might cost us most of the day. But I’m under no illusion we’ll be able to march our way over without interruption. The crowd continues twittering while I scan their faces and their hungry eyes.

“Don’t look at them, Lor,” he says. “Pretend they’re not here.”

I nod and glance back at him, feeling tears well up.

“I don’t want to do this,” I whisper as I clutch the collar of his jacket. “I want to go home.”

“What is home, Lor?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

The corner of my mouth lifts in a sad smile. “You. You are home.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “If anyone can survive this, it’s you and me. You and I are forever. We are inevitable, Lor. I’m the Aurora Prince, and you are the fucking Heart Queen. This son of a bitch will not stop us.”

He tips my head back and kisses me deeply. I feel the strength of his words and his conviction. The entire crowd breaks into another excited frenzy that’s impossible to ignore, their voices swelling around us in a way that only makes me kiss him harder. Then he touches his forehead to mine, and we breathe in each other’s space.

“Then let’s do this,” I whisper. “You and me. Forever. No matter what it takes.”

“That’s my girl,” he says, sweeping a thumb over my cheek. “My fearless, brilliant, astonishing queen.”

A second later, a rumbling chorus of low growls draws our attention up.

We pull apart and spin around, pressing back to back, when six of the largest bears I’ve ever seen emerge from the trees.