His irises flickered as he gazed up and up and up. “Can’t wait. . . .”
THIRTY-NINE
Rune’s harried thoughts weren’t enough to keep his mind off the yawning drop beneath his feet.
He and Josephine had navigated carved steps to reach the Plankway in the Sky—a wooden path thousands of feet in the air, affixed to the side of the sheer mountain, one of the steepest on this world.
Strangely, the lift that would’ve saved them hours of ascent was out of order.
Senseless thrill-seeking humans were about, so he and Josephine couldn’t trace to the top. Besides, he couldn’t see where to land, and he’d never been there before.
He sidled along the narrow path, cobbled-together from scrap boards. The plankway had no railing, just a length of chain stretched across the rock face for a handhold. He gripped it with clammy palms. The sun beat down on them, and sweat dripped from his forehead, burning his eyes.
Rune had few true fears; acrophobia, the fear of heights, was one of them.
Ahead, Josephine bounded along, utterly fearless.
Utterly surprising.
Rune’s determination to bed her had only deepened. Her show of strength fueled his desire, but sex would also bind her to him—and therefore to the Møriør.
His mission had expanded: kill Nïx and recruit Josephine. And once Rune did, would the brother follow his sister to their side?
The Møriør could have two hybrids of unimaginable power.
He lost sight of her around a sharp bend. Not far behind him, adrenaline-pumped mortals laughed and yelled to each other.
He transferred his sweating grip from one chain to another. He was seven feet tall; these boards weren’t intended to hold someone of his size.
When Josephine skipped back to him, the planks vibrated just from her scant weight. The rusted bolts attaching wood to stone squeaked.
Perspiration dotted her forehead and misted her thin T-shirt. Tendrils of her shining hair were damp. Sun struck her face, and he marveled anew that she was a day-walker. In the light, she seemed as delicate as gossamer, her pale skin slightly pinkened. She was exhilarated, her eyes appearing even brighter against those seductive shadows.
He was glad she wore no glamour. Her looks were forever unique to her. He could stare at her spectral face for hours.
“Up ahead, the view is sick! You can see miles down.” She’d discovered his discomfort and delighted in giving him grief. “There’re no more planks. It’s just little foot holes carved into the rock. Hmm. Your feet are really big. I wonder if they’ll even fit.”
Josephine could float or ghost or whatever she called it. She could all but fly.
When she casually leaned a shoulder against the rock and crossed her arms over her chest, he wanted to snag her close.
“Why are you afraid? If you fall, you can trace right back here.”
“I’m not afraid. I’m . . . cautious. I’ve told you I didn’t grow up with the ability to teleport. My cautiousness developed during my childhood.”
“But you can trace now.”
He knew that. Yet phobias weren’t rational. “This is not my natural element.” He’d been born and raised to labor in the fens, assassinate Magh’s enemies, and fuck her political targets. He was never supposed to climb mountains.
“Your natural element seems to be on top of nymphs. Starting to realize how limiting that is?” She gave him an exaggerated frown.
Despite his unease, he yearned to kiss her quiet. “I want to be on top of you.”
She shimmied around him, holding on to the chain with the crook of a finger. “All you have to do is whisper promises in my ear.”
She made no secret she wanted more from Rune—talking about love and commitments—but he suspected this was merely the infatuation of a very young female. “I’ll have you eventually. I know you crave sex with me.”
“I crave a lot of things I don’t get. Them’s the breaks.”
“It’s not possible for me to be exclusive.”
“Possible?” She snorted. “Because you’re such a lady-killer? Because your big swinging dick says, ‘Baby, I gotta be free’?”
“Maybe it’s not that I would desire other women. As a secrets master, I use sex to get information. That’s my job—but you’d expect me to quit it right at the Accession?” What in the gods’ names would it take for someone to accept him as is?
She nodded with understanding. “One day you’ll find a nice female who’ll put up with your ‘job’. Listen to my words, Rune: I am not that woman. If you stepped out on me, I’d kick your ass to the curb.”
“You think I couldn’t seduce you to see things my way?”
“Never. Your best bet is to forget all this”—she gestured at her body—“and find that dark fey you had a lead on.”
He frowned at the reminder. During the two days he’d held vigil over Josephine, he could’ve returned to Loa’s, enjoying the shopkeeper and getting that lead. In the past, he would’ve hounded Loa.
Now, he had difficulty picturing himself with any female other than Josephine. “Perhaps I could be persuaded to try an open relationship with you—a long-term commitment that allows us to stray, but always to return to the bed we share.”
“That’s your idea of a commitment? Maybe we call it something different where I come from.” The little wench winked at him. “In any case, why would I settle for less than I need when I’m only twenty-five?”