Page 81 of Salem’s Rise

Silas studies the gap. “I’ll go first.”

“I’m lighter. I should go,” I say, hoping I sound braver than I feel.

“You’re also shorter.”

“I have long legs.”

His gaze drops, traveling slowly down the length of my body before returning to my face. Something wicked glints in his eyes. “Yes,” he says. “I’ve noticed.”

Before I can decide what to make of that, he’s already climbing over the side rope. He lowers himself onto one of the supporting cables and moves across the gap with controlled precision. As soon as he gets to the other side, he braces and holds out his hand. “Come on,” he says, beckoning to me.

I climb onto the cable. Below me, there is only mist and darkness. My body locks, momentarily frozen in place.

“Don’t look down,” Silas says.

“I’m trying not to.”

“Glare at me instead. You rather seem to enjoy doing that.”

I lift my eyes to his and find him smiling. Not the polished, cruel version I’m used to. This one is warm, almost shy, and so unexpectedly beautiful that my heart temporarily forgets its rhythm.

I move one foot along the cable, then the other, while Silas talks to me. I think he’s trying to relax me the only way he knows how—by annoying me.

“You know, for someone who claims not to fear heights, you are making this very dramatic.”

“I’m balancing over a ravine with practically tornado-force winds every few minutes,” I say. “What do you expect?”

“Fair point,” he says. “If I’m being honest, you’re not nearly as bad at this as I expected.”

I nearly stumble over the plank. “Whoa—was that a compliment?”

“Stay focused,” he says. “Do not become distracted by my considerable charm.”

“Don’t worry. There’s no danger of that.”

My hand finally reaches his, and he closes his fingers around mine, pulling me across. His other hand settles at my hip to steady me, and little bolts of electricity climb up my arm from everywhere he’s touching me. It’s so distracting, I almost forget we’re dangling dozens of feet above a ravine.

After another cycle of ringing bells and wind, I trust the pattern enough to move faster across the bridge. While the other competitors ahead inch forward and brace at every shift of the planks, Silas and I race between gusts, dropping low only when the bells warn us one is coming.

“You do know all of you are insane, right?” I ask, my voice sounding annoyingly breathless. “You’re all risking your lives for the right to preside over a secret society? Why? I don’t get it.”

“Leadership isn’t the only reason claimants enter.”

The answer is so unexpected that I nearly miss my footing.

“Watch the bridge,” Silas orders, tightening his grip on my hand.

“Why else would they enter?”

He looks ahead. The shadows hide part of his face, but I see his shoulders stiffen. “They say the winner receives one boon.”

“A boon?”

“One impossible wish granted by the Veil.”

I wait for him to smile, show some sign he’s kidding, but there’s nothing. The Veil has money, influence, judges, politicians, police officers, and enough control over Salem’s Fall to make dead students disappear into invented lives. With that alone, they could grant almost any wish, no matter how difficult. But Silas does not say difficult.

He says impossible.