Page 63 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“I know the feeling.”

“I know you do.” I looked around the vast space.

“I’m used to talking about…” She swallowed. “I was just consoling an orphan, and… they all fell on the same day. My mind just grouped⁠—”

I lowered my head until I caught her gaze.

“Mags.”

“What?”

“You’re fine,” I assured her, even as my ribs constricted. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

She nodded, but the guilt remained carved into her expression.

“Now, I need a favor.”

Her response was immediate. “Anything.”

“Get me out of here, would you?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

TWELVE

DAMNED IF I DO

BLYTHE

127 days…

“Witchling.”

I fought the urge to squeeze my eyes shut in resignation, if only because fresh air was a rare commodity—one I suspected I received solely because of the captain.

The mist-shrouded cliffs were beautiful. Whatever hell they’d taken us to, it was green, with hills that rolled toward an endless ocean. It reminded me of photographs of Ireland. Scotland. Maybe Iceland.

Cold, despite my tally placing us at the height of summer. Perpetually gray, yet breathtakingly beautiful.

Evidently, thousands of birds had reached the same conclusion. I’d never seen a flock so large, their squawking songs forming a constant backdrop. Cute. In any other life, I would’ve found the little pigeonlike birds in their penguin-tuxedo feathers adorable.

Instead, I envied them.

Their freedom.

The easy glide of their wings as they dove from the ledges carved into the stone wall below me.

“They’re about to return.”

I nodded, even as an invisible hand tightened around my throat. My gaze shifted to the cliff’s edge, some dark corner of my mind wondering whether I could move fast enough to dive over it before the captain caught me.

Truthfully, I wasn’t certain the cliffs were high enough to kill me. I might merely end up with broken legs and a fractured spine while the tide pummeled my body against the rocks.

Still.

Anything had to be better than going back.

Bartholomew’s broad hand clamped around my bicep, suggesting he’d been assessing a similar threat.