Page 90 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Fuck me.”

“Wish I could help, but I’m straight enough to iron my bootlaces.”

I choked on a laugh and turned to find her smirking down at me, forearms braced on her knees.

“I think I like you, Portia Durand.”

“You don’t suck either.”

I smiled and let my head fall back, taking in the fading stars as I filled my lungs.

Then the ground…

Shifted.

I jackknifed upright.

Portia twisted onto her knees, blades already drawn from the sheaths at her ribs.

The sand went still.

My heart didn’t.

“You felt that?”

In my periphery, Portia jerked her chin, her attention fixed on the ground.

The ground that began slipping.

Sliding.

Wriggling.

“Fuck—hell no.” She was already on her feet, reaching for me as I scrambled upright. “Move!”

I didn’t need prompting.

I shifted into shadow as Portia did, and we leapt over the dune’s crest before sprinting down its opposite side, sand spraying in our wake.

The sudden thud of our boots striking the basin between the dunes brought us both to a stuttering halt.

Awareness prickled against the base of my skull.

Steady, Death whispered, his icy touch raising the hair along my arms.

“What is this?” I breathed.

My eyes scraped over the cracked bed of earth below us, resembling the scaled remnants of a long-dead lake.

The shadows billowed across it, only to recoil as though they’d been stung. A chorus of hissing voices surrounded us.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Portia muttered. She took one cautious step and froze when the ground crunched beneath her boot.

Though my question hadn’t been directed at her, Portia’s voice soothed my fraying nerves. Her widened eyes had the opposite effect.

Do you truly want to know? Death asked as his presence grew overwhelming. Move steadily, young heiress.

The world narrowed around the barren lake bed.