Pulling off the fancy cravat that went with the new outfit, he bound it over his forehead. Couldn’t afford to have blood in his eyes. At least the trend was holding of him destroying yet another set of clothes. That had to be good luck, right?
Hands outstretched, he edged forward, finding the invisible thing he’d run into at full tilt. A wall, slightly rounded. The stone felt smooth under his hands, though his brain had a hard time dealing with the fact that he still saw lilies beyond. Closing his eyes helped, though that made him think of Stella closing her eyes at his suggestion in the ballroom, implicitly trusting him to guide her through the crush. He would not break that trust.
He followed along the wall, tracing a circle about the size of a cottage. Could be a tower. Unfortunately, he made it around to his own trampled track through the odiferous flowers without encountering a door. A tower, with no way out, she’d said. “Stella?” he called.
No reply.
He cranked his head back, seeing only empty air. Hopefully this was the right place. Though, for all he knew, the landscape was studded with invisible towers. But Stella had brought him here, so he’d trust in that. Nothing for it but to climb.
He yanked off his boots and tossed them aside. Pulling a blade, he clenched it in his teeth so he’d be prepared. Closing his eyes, he felt for a seam between stones, digging his fingers into the crack, then skimmed his hand up the stone for the next. It at least felt like a standardly constructed stone edifice, with blocks at regular intervals. Settling his fingers into the next crack, he felt with his toes for a seam above the ground.
And began to climb.
It was far from ideal, the seams yielding very little grip. He tried to tell himself that he only climbed the rigging of the Hákyrling—and at least this mast didn’t sway and dip with the sea. But the precariousness of his hold had his heart hammering.
That and the utter silence where Stella should be in his head.
Even though he’d been climbing steadily, it was painstakingly slow and tedious. He had no sense of his own progress—and he didn’t dare look. He had zero doubt that if he so much as glanced at the nothingness he clung to high over the ground, that he’d lose his head and likely his grip. So he kept going, his world reduced to feeling for the next hold.
And listening to the least whisper of Stella.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
At one point, he had to pause, hanging on with one hand, body pressed tightly to the invisible wall, toes trembling with strain, as he plucked the dagger from his teeth and used it to dig out a better grip. Really a bitch to do with his eyes closed.
Putting the dagger back between his teeth, he tasted the grit of stone. It was real—and it helped to remind himself of that. Not being able to see the tower he climbed didn’t make it any less solid. Forcing his exhausted body to continue, he climbed ever upwards.
Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t been able to see how tall the fucking thing really was, or he wouldn’t have attempted the climb.
Though, who was he kidding? Nothing would keep from Stella.
Hear that? he thought viciously. You can play all the games you want to, but we won’t give up. I won’t give up. Stella is mine, and you will never, ever have her!
“Jak?” Stella’s mental voice came, thready and weak, but there.
“I’m here! I’m climbing the tower. I’m almost to you.”
“No, go back. Save yourself.”
“Fuck that, Stella! Just hold on.” Good advice for himself as one shredded and bleeding set of toes gave way, losing their grip and nearly pulling his arms out of the sockets as he strained not to fall.
“Jak, please…” The tears and despair in her mental voice, whether for him or herself—or them both—galvanized him. With a snarl, he reached for a new hold and nearly lost his balance when his hand met empty air. In a desperate shove, he grabbed down—and clamped his hand over what felt like a window ledge. It could be he’d fling himself over only to fall through empty air, but there was no going back.
Taking the leap of faith—and a literal leap of body—he levered up and hurled himself through the opening.
“Awake now?” the grating voice asked her.
Stella fought through the swirling depths of disorienting unconsciousness and opened her eyes to find herself lying on the bed she’d seen when she landed in the tower room. She’d been in a panic, battling the sheer terror of seeing her vision come true, the black despair threatening to drag her under. When she found she couldn’t shift, that her sorcery was a mere trickle, she considered jumping out the high window and ending it all right there.
Then she’d heard Jak’s voice, and her world righted. She wasn’t alone. He was here somewhere. She’d been guiding him to her when she grew suddenly dizzy and…
And the man standing over her was not Jak.
The intelligence had gotten better at its mimicry, coming closer to looking like Jak, though it still made itself bigger. It preened internally at her observation, as if it believed larger was automatically better.
“I am better,” it said. Its words had gotten clearer, too, though its voice retained an odd cadence. “I can please you better than he can. I love you.”
She shuddered, carefully sitting up and scooting back on the bed as it approached her. “Did you knock me unconscious?”
“Yes.” It grinned, an unearthly parody of Jak’s cocky smile. “You were bringing him here. We can’t have that. I am the only man you need.”
“You are a handsome man,” she agreed, feeling her way through the thing’s emotions. The lust and possessiveness was so distasteful she nearly gagged, but she kept at it. She had no sorcery, but her ability to sense—and manipulate—emotions worked just fine. And she had her daggers, which she surreptitiously palmed. “I don’t need him,” she added.
“Yes. He climbs to you now. I will kill him, and then we can be alone. I love you.”
“Jak?” she called, feeling the unsteadiness in her mental voice. Whatever the creature had done to her to knock her out had also left her mentally drained.
“I’m here!” Though his relief flooded her, so did his exhaustion. He was hurt and near the end of his strength. “I’m climbing the tower. I’m almost to you.”
“No,” she begged him, not daring to tell him why. Telling him the intelligence was with her and planned to kill him would only strengthen Jak’s resolve to get to her. “Go back. Save yourself.”
“Fuck that, Stella!” His voice snarled through her head, determined to hurl himself to his death to save her. “Just hold on.”
“Jak, please…”
“No!” the creature yelled at her. “You don’t talk to him! Only me.” It grabbed her by the arm, yanking her close and embracing her in a bruising, clumsy grip. No longer made of stone, its flesh still didn’t feel quite living. With a queasy burst of revulsion, she wondered where it had gotten the flesh to assemble this body.
Then she didn’t have to wonder, because the physical connection opened its thoughts and emotions to her. Much as she wanted to wrest free, she forced herself to allow them to flood her. In the back of her mind, Jak’s solid confidence bolstered her, his unwavering love giving her the foundation she needed.