Cloud Piercer

Fifteen

Each breath I heave sucks the black material into my mouth, suffocating me. I don't know how far we've walked, but a sharp knife presses to the centre of my back, and a thick rope restrains my hands.

My entire body quivers but I remain wordless as my captor guides me. Strategies of escape run through my mind at a million miles a second, but each step we go further off path, the more the options dwindle. I have no idea how many people are around me. The dagger I'd been holding is somewhere back where they ambushed me. All I have is my hearing, but aside from the occasional snapping of twigs, my captors are silent.

A gentle breeze rustles the bushes. I briefly wonder if I should scream for help; for Casimir, for Killian, for anyone. But the sharp point against my skin warns me against it. I was so stupid to come out here, even more stupid for leaving Killian and wandering off on my own.

Cold hands wrap around my wrist, jerking me in a different direction. A low branch brushes the top of my head as the terrain starts to decline. I focus on counting my steps, memorising each direction we turn, how far we've come. It's the only thing keeping me from falling apart all together.

Had Killian known what would happen? The possibility frightens me, but I shake it off. There's no way this is Killian's doing. I don't trust him, but if he'd wanted to kidnap me, he's had more than enough opportunity.

"Duck your head." One of them demands, voice low and gravelly.

I obey as the earth transitions beneath my feet from dirt to something harder, like stone. The next step I take echoes. I freeze.

"Where have you taken me?" I ask.

"Move."

My blood runs cold. The echoing of my feet, the absence of the wind—he's taken me to some sort of tunnel. I thought I knew Veymaw like the back of my hand, but tunnels? I've never come across any. If I go in there, there's no way I can find my way out alone.

"I-I won't go in there."

"Don't make this difficult, Freya." I shudder as his voice moves closer, right by my ear. "That's right, I know who you are. And you can either move or I can force you." The dagger pricks my back. "And it won't be pretty."

I stumble forward, my heart thumping.

One. Two. Three. Four.

An eerie sound courses through the tunnel, and though I can't see, I can feel the tight space cramping around us. If I stumble too far to the sides, my arm brushes against a cold wall. The air feels tighter, making it harder to breathe.

Forty-five. Forty-six. Forty-seven.

We turn a sharp corner.

Sweat beads at the back of my neck. The skirt of my dress feels heavy, sticks and dirt gathered in the lace trim at the bottom. I try to slow my breathing, tilting my head down to prevent the bag from sucking into my mouth.

Eighty-seven. Eighty-eight. Eighty-nine.

The roof gets lower, brushing the top of my head. I slightly bend my knees as panic courses through my veins. It feels like the walls are caving in. For the first time since they ambushed me, I'm glad I can't see.

One hundred and three. One hundred and four. On hundred and—

The man comes to an abrupt stop, causing me to bump into his back. He steps away, grabbing my wrists and pulling me down so that I'm kneeling.

"Don't even think about trying something," another behind me murmurs, pulling the dagger away from my back and loosening the ropes around my hands so they can move.