by Cate Dean
“Don’t remove it,” she whispered. “You have a better chance of surviving if you lie still.” She guided his hand to the wound. “Press hard, here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Tears stung her eyes as she struggled to her feet. The sight of Thomas and Ari halted her. There was no time—she had to get Micah safe first.
“Hold on—I’ll be back for you. I promise.”
Her forearm throbbed from her short battle with the guard. She cradled it as she stumbled the last few feet, shoving open the lock on the heavy door.
Micah looked up when she burst in. “Raine—gods, you’re hurt—”
“The blood isn’t mine.” She moved toward him before he tried to stand. He was hunched over his worktable, the box that held his first aid supplies now full of—broken parts? “Micah—is that—”
“A bomb, yes. I need to attract attention.”
“Attracting the entire city won’t help if you blow yourself up in the process.”
“I have an idea for that.”
She followed his glance, and her heart stopped.
He was talking about his wings. His untried, experimental wings.
~ ~ ~
“I’ll need your help. Raine.” She turned her head, shock widening her eyes.
“You can’t mean to—”
“I doubt Joseph and Elena will allow me to simply waltz out of the castle.” She flinched at the anger edging his voice. He scrubbed at his face, exhaustion and pain competing for his attention. “They don’t mean for me to survive this.”
“Then we’d better prove them wrong.” She moved to him, brushed sweat damp hair off his forehead, her fingers brushing his throbbing left cheek. Compared to his leg, the pain was as noticeable as a scratch. “You really think you can make it to the roof?”
“With your help.” He hoped. At this point, they had no other choice. Elena certainly ordered Joseph to have guards thick on the ground, because she knew Micah well enough to guess he would try to escape. “We’ll have to use the outside stairs. The wings will not fit through the spiral, especially when I’m wearing them.”
“Right. You do know this idea of yours borders on insane.”
“Most of my best inventions started the same way.”
“Good to know.” She met his eyes, and his heart pounded.
The relief at seeing her burst through the door was so profound it had nearly dropped him. He wanted to hold her, just hold her, for a long time.
After they freed themselves from this mess.
“I need your help with the wings,” he said. She nodded, and headed for them. “Then I need your help getting me up the stairs.”
Her hands stilled on the harness. “How bad is the leg?”
Micah wouldn’t lie, not now. “Worse.”
“All right. Let’s get this on you.”
He stared at her, humbled by her complete trust in him. “You do realize this could very well get us both killed.”
“Do you mean the flying part, or the blowing up your workshop part?”
He smiled, absurdly pleased by her humor under pressure. “Both. Either. Most likely both.”
“Good. Now we’ve cleared that up, how does this—ah, I see.” She twisted the wings until the leather harness faced them. “So I strap this on you, then you hold on to me, then we jump.”
“Before the explosion, if I time everything right.”
“How long will we have?”
“Five minutes. Approximately.”
She swallowed, and started easing the harness up his arms. After studying it, she matched up the straps and buckles. He would have helped, but his hands ached from the cold, and abuse, and were, in general, fumbling and helpless.
Once she finished, she stepped back. “Do you have anything I can use as a weapon?”
“I—yes.” He pointed to the long, heavy iron wrench on the table. “I haven’t used it since—” He held up his hands. “But my father gave it to me.”
“I’ll try not to lose it, then.” She reached for it, then stopped, her hand moving up to cradle his cheek. “Whatever happens, I will never regret knowing you.”
“Raine—I—”
She cut him off with her lips, kissing him with a tenderness and a heat that had him pulling her into his arms. Pain flared in his wrists at the contact. He ignored it, deepened the kiss, aware this may be the last time he had the chance to touch her. Raine seemed to come to the same conclusion; she wrapped her arm around his neck and held on.
When he finally eased away, he was breathless. She tucked her head under his chin, just as breathless. She fit so perfectly, in his arms, in his life. If they survived the next few minutes, he was never letting her go again.
“We should move,” she whispered.
“Right.” He touched her cheek before she moved away. “There may be guards at the staircase.”
“I can take care of them. Micah—there’s something you need to know about me, about my past—”
“You can tell me tomorrow.”
She let out her breath. “Sounds good.” Micah watched her pick up the wrench with her right hand—and realized she would have to support him with her injured arm. “Ready?”
“Raine, I don’t—”
“Too late. I want to see if these wings work as well as your model.” She slid her left arm around his waist, between the wings and the harness. “The thing I need to tell you tomorrow—high pain tolerance is one of the details. I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you.”
“We have narrowed it down to no other choice.”
“True enough.” She tightened her grip. “If you need to stop—”
“I’ll keep it to myself.” He picked up the makeshift fuse, and soaked the half closest to the box with lamp oil. “Can you carry the oil lamp? I need it to light the fuse.”
She nodded, tucked the wrench into her belt, and picked up the small lamp. “Put all your weight on me, Micah. I don’t want you using your injured leg at all.”
“That won’t be a problem.” He draped his arm across her shoulders, gathered his strength, and pushed up with his left leg. Pain stabbed him, hot and furious. He sucked in a breath, then another, until the darkness edging his vision receded. “All right,” he whispered.
Raine frowned up at him. “You look terrible.”
“Good to know. Move slowly—I need to feed out the fuse.”
Their first step forward nearly blacked him out.
“—Micah? Open your eyes.”
“Here.” He forced his eyes open. “Not as easy as I thought.”
“You’re trying to walk with one leg. Lean on me, pretend I’m your right leg. You move your left leg, I move your right.”
He nodded, eased his death grip on the fuse, and took in a full breath. “Let’s try again.”
“All your weight on me, Micah. I’m stronger than I look.”
He took Raine at her word and stopped holding back. The second step was violently painful, but he could live with it. They quickly established a rhythm, and she proved her words; her strength was impressive.
They reached the door, and Micah held up the fuse. “Light it,” he whispered.
“I want to check outside first, make certain we have a clear path, at least from here.”
He nodded, not wanting to waste more energy arguing. Raine leaned him against the wall and inched the door open. Since she didn’t slam it immediately, he assumed they weren’t about to face a horde of traitorous guards.
“We’re clear, at least as far as I can see. There may be guards in the staircase, but you already considered that. Give me the fuse.”
“Raine—”
“I’m going to light it, then I’m dragging you out of here as fast as I possibly can. You are going to hold on to me, and let me deal with any threat. Agreed?”
“I—”
“Let me put it another way. You don’t have a choice.”
He nodded, then clutched the wall when the room started to tilt.
“Hold on, Micah.”
Through the haze of pain, he watched her light the fuse, then inched his arm across her shoulders when she pulled him off the wall. She dragged him out of the workshop and toward the staircase that wrapped around the outside of the tower. Micah never would have dared if it wasn’t partially enclosed, a waist high wall on the exposed side of the stairs.
They made it to the base of the stairs when the guards showed up.
Two of them raced toward Micah and Raine. She let go of him, pulled the wrench out of her belt and stepped in front of him.
A furious growl bounced off the walls—and Kres flew out of the corridor, right at the guards.
“Kres—no—”
Raine spun, grabbing Micah around the waist. “Come on.”
“I can’t leave him—”
“He is risking his life for you, Micah.” She dragged him to the stairs, and he glanced over his shoulder, a different kind of pain driving into him when one of the guards slashed at Kres’ outstretched wing. Without a sound, the drake dive bombed him. “Come on.”
Micah gripped the bronze handrail, hauled himself up. His injured leg caught the edge of the step.
“Raine—”
She glanced down, and tightened her grip on his waist, hiking him up. They managed three more painful steps before he stumbled.
“Micah. Look at me.”
He shook his head. “Leave me—there’s no time—”
“You stay, I stay.”
“Damn it.” His internal clock was ticking, louder with each second they lost. “I’m not strong enough.”
“You are, and you damn well know it. Now hold on to me.”
She climbed, dragging him with brute force. He helped as much as he could, using the handrail. The wings slapped each step, and he was afraid that by the time they reached the roof—if they reached it—the delicate metal feathers would be too damaged to lift them.
His right foot caught on the step and they went down again. Hard.
“Micah.” Her voice was muffled by the pain roaring through him. “Micah, please—we don’t have time.”
Nodding, he groped for the handrail. Raine guided his hand up, gasping as she pulled him to his feet. A cold breeze brushed his skin—and gave him hope. They were near the top.
With a desperate surge, he dragged himself forward. The stairs curved one last time, and he stumbled when they reached the flat roof. Raine kept going until they stood at the edge, between two wide merlons. Both of them fought for breath.
“What—” She coughed, sweat sliding down her face. “What do I need to do?”
“Spread the wings,” he gasped. He clutched the edge of the merlon when she let him go, heard her curse behind him. “What—”
“Some of the feathers are bent.” He felt the wings move, and she stood next to him. “Tell me we don’t have to make a running start.”
“Best case—yes.”
“All right.” She faced him, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Time to fly, my crazy genius.”
“Raine—”
“I trust you, Micah. And we’re out of time.”
He kissed her, whispered a prayer, and pushed them forward.
They fell, the shadows of twilight hiding the ground that rushed up to meet them. Raine tightened her grip, buried her face in his throat, her red hair streaming past him—
With a sharp tug, the wings caught.
They floated for long seconds, and Raine lifted her head, staring at him.
The blast from the explosion sent them tumbling forward.
Micah landed on his back, sliding across the thick lawn of the garden. The ornamental hedge stopped him, the branches digging into his scalp, his shoulders.
He lay still, fought to breathe, his ears ringing.
“Micah!” The voice filtered through the ringing. He opened his eyes, blinking the face above him into focus. “Oh, sweet gods above, I can’t believe they worked.” She had dirt and leaves tangled in her hair, deep scratches on her face, and she never looked more beautiful. “Say something.”
“Beautiful,” he whispered. At least, he thought he whispered. His ears still sounded like the church bells were ringing inside his head.
She let out an exhausted laugh, and started checking him. “Are your ears ringing?” He nodded. “Mine are, too. We are both going to have a good assortment of bruises in the morning…” Her voice faded. Micah saw why a moment later.
Kres appeared, limping toward them. One wing was tucked into his side—but his right wing dragged on the ground.
“Oh, Kres.” She crawled over to the drake, one hand hovering over his damaged wing. “May I examine it?” His dark eyes studied her, then he lowered his head to her knee. “I will take that as a yes. Do not move, Micah.”
He froze, halfway to sitting. “I wanted to—”
“You can help by not bleeding any more than you are already.”
She only got as far as touching Kres’ wing when Ari stumbled into sight, bloody and swearing. The drake retreated, pressing against Micah’s good leg. Raine stood, caught Ari as he sank to his knees.
“Explosion,” he gasped. “Micah—”
“Alive,” she said. “Let me take a closer look at that knife, Ari.”
Knife—
Micah pushed himself up, his vision clearing enough to see Ari, hunched over on the grass, and a knife sticking out of his left side. A familiar knife. Elena’s personal knife.
She had more to answer for than he thought.
“Thomas?” Raine’s voice snapped him back. Ari looked at her, then at Micah, and shook his head.
Micah closed his eyes, grief stabbing through him, more painful than his injuries. Kres nudged his arm, and Micah met the drake’s dark eyes.
“Thank you, Kres,” he whispered. “You risked your life for us.” The memory of Thomas giving up his life to help Micah would never fade.
Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he gathered the drake in, careful of his injured wing. The shouts of the guards still loyal to him filtered through the air. They would all come now, their presence protecting Raine and Ari from Elena’s retaliation. It was over, for her, for Joseph.
For him, it was just beginning.
Thirty
Most of the guards bought by Elena and Joseph died in the explosion. Raine followed the physicians gathered to tend the wounded, identifying them, since Micah could not.
Thomas was just outside the rubble left by the collapsing tower.
Raine lowered herself to his side, tears blurring her eyes.
“Thank you for protecting him,” she whispered. “You would be proud.” She pushed to her feet, awkward with her left arm in a sling. “He will be laid in the chapel.”
“But he was one of the traitors—”
“He was Lord Micah’s trusted protector.” Anger burned through her grief. “I won’t hear a word spoken against him. He will be laid in the chapel—”
“Because my lord ordered it.” Ari stalked into sight, left arm pressed to his side. Raine did her best not to roll her eyes. The stubborn man should be in bed. She figured she would have to tie him down and post guards to keep him there. He spoke to the guards behind him. “Carry him to the chapel. Lord Micah wants him treated with special care.”
The men nodded, then lifted Thomas as gently as if he were still alive. Ari watched them until they were out of sight.
“You should be in bed,” Raine said.
Ari turned to her, and almost managed to hide the pain. “I didn’t jump off a building and get blown into the gardens.”
She and Micah had fortune watching out for them; the garden they landed in was the cliff garden, the hedge that had stopped Micah the last obstacle before the edge of that cliff. Even with the fortune, she was stiff and aching, and Micah was in bed, surrounded by the finest surgeons in riding distance. Raine wanted to help him, but sharing her own skills would draw unwanted attention.
“How is he?” Ari’s q
uestion snapped her back to the moment.
“They removed the blade.” She blinked back tears, staring at the floor. “He has been unconscious since he was carried out of the garden. It’s for the best right now,” she whispered. “He must have been in agonizing pain. There will be damage, from moving him, maybe too much damage for him to recover—”
Ari pulled her into a one armed hug, rubbing her back as she fought the tears threatening to overwhelm her. She felt more comfortable with him now, after seeing how he dealt with Micah, how he meant to sacrifice himself to go after Liam.
His muscles flexed against her hands, and under her cheek, rock hard. Muscles she had seen years ago, sheened with sweat and blood, under a merciless sun. They shared a past, and she was going to have to get used to that fact, not freeze up, or run away every time he walked into her life.
“Micah is strong, stronger than most people expect.” Ari stepped back, cupped her chin. “He also has good reason to recover.” She tried to pull away when a blush spread over her cheeks. “Don’t step back, Raine. He’s going to need you.”
“My bond holder is Joseph’s sister.”
“I believe we can work something out. They have been arrested, and are waiting Micah’s sentencing. They won’t get near him again.” He studied her, and she waited for the questions. She knew he’d recognized her that night at The Black Arrow. She had been waiting for this since. “The guard you fought survived, and had an interesting story to tell.”
She swallowed. “I was desperate—”
“You fought for your life.” He freed her before she jerked away. “I won’t ever ask, Raine. But if you need an ear, I am the last one who will judge. I wanted to thank you for protecting Micah, for not leaving him.”
“I wouldn’t—not ever.”
“I am counting on it.” One of the guards came sprinting back, and whispered to Ari. “Thank you. Send word to the council.”
Her heart skipped. “What?”
Ari turned back to her, and smiled. “Micah is awake.”
~ ~ ~
Micah was propped up on pillows, his face pale, but not pinched like it had been the last time Raine saw him.
She stopped long enough to talk to the castle physician, Giles. “How is he?”
