magic. Once he was no longer possessed by his visions, he could give me a hand up and inside. Or at the very least, he could grab my arm through the bars and hold on to me until we reached the top of the cliff, because my arm was about to give out. I moved my bad arm to test if it had miraculously healed, but raising it an inch spilled acid inside my bones.
His eyes teemed with so much loathing that it iced my skin.
“Remo,” I whispered. “I don’t know who you’re seeing, but that person’s not real.”
“Shut up,” he snapped.
“Look for the—”
“I said, shut up!”
“Re—”
Before I could get the last syllable of his name out, he twisted the hook and let it slip through the bars of the cage, sending me hurtling into the ground. My tool shot out from my hand before I could turn it into anything that could save my life.
Falling couldn’t kill faeries.
As my hair whipped around, I prayed these rules applied in the Scourge.
24
Second Chance
My fingers dragged through something sticky and cold that smelled of frost and earth. Had I survived my fall? I brushed my palms across the soil, expecting to feel clumps of moss, but no delicate plant tickled my skin. If I hadn’t landed in Fake Neverra, where had I landed?
Slowly, I opened my eyes. Found myself staring up at the white sky and the portal that hung like a mirror fifty feet above me, reflecting a field of ochre mud and my sprawled body. We’d been right: there was no dying in this prison.
Relief warmed my body as I pressed both my palms into the ground and heaved myself into a sitting position. I realized two things at once: my sling was gone and my arm didn’t hurt. I lifted my mud-soaked hands and marveled at the absence of pain. But then the memory of dropping my hook pinged into my mind, and I stopped marveling and started wiping my palms on my thighs, streaking my black suit russet-yellow. The filigree tattoo was still there, but was Karsyn’s dust back inside its tracks? I brushed a shaky finger over the dark swirls. When a ribbon of dust sparkled out, I expelled a very deep breath.
I patted my face down for cuts and felt only smooth skin. How incredible. Still completely screwed up, but nevertheless incredible. As I stood, I inspected my suit, which unfortunately, hadn’t mended like the rest of me.
A twig snapped behind me, and I spun, the mud impairing my speed. At the edge of the dense forest encircling the field stood a man with moon-pale skin and wild hair. Rigid as the trunks steeped in the leafy gloom, Remo took a step forward. The white light spread from his jagged contours, filling in his broad frame, painting his fiery locks redder and his wary eyes greener.
Chin to chest, he stared. Stared as though I were a stranger. No . . . not a stranger. A ghost. He’d died and come back to life, and yet shock and horror scored his features.
“I killed you.” His voice was raspy and low, scraping through the cool air toward me.
Strangely enough, I was glad to see him, relieved he hadn’t returned into the valley and boarded the train without me. “You made it out of the cupola alive. Most people don’t.” My hair swung like a leaden curtain as I approached him. “Congratulations are in order.”
“I watched you turn to ash and die.”
The memory of when he’d perished in my arms still haunted me, so I understood how shell-shocked he must’ve felt. Combing the mud out of my hair, I kept walking toward him. “Who were you picturing when you tossed me off?”
He shuddered as though reliving the moment. “Joshua Locklear.”
“I’m relieved to hear it wasn’t me.”
His jaw clenched.
“So, how did you end up breaking out?”
“The door clicked open when I got to the top.” He pointed to the bruise blackening the side of his neck. “I was in the middle of strangling myself.”
“Eventful ride.” I smiled.
“How can you be so . . . smiley? How can you even stomach to look at me right now? I killed you.”
I tipped my head to the side. “Did you mean to kill me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then stow away your guilt and help me reach the portal.”
His reddened gaze raked over me. Was he looking for forgiveness? I’d already given it to him. Didn’t he believe me?