My bicep caught on a branch or prickly vine. Blood dotted my arm that my tunic soaked up, but I didn’t dare stop. My limbs forged ahead, screaming the entire way. I’d heal myself when we arrived at our destination. My boots started to capture mud in their soles, yet my airborne feet never faltered. As the ground softened, I knew we were closing in.

The tree line thinned, an old friend welcoming me home. It was an odd thing, seeing this place of my youth more clearly through adult eyes. Beautiful as this land was, it was cursed with death and destruction. A prison was still a prison, no matter the serenity of a window’s view.

A row of fungi trees a couple yards out stood as a landmark for me. I’d always make a right there to go make sandcastles at the beach. I’d passed this grouping the day my father rescued me.

The trees gave way to the black rocks and waterfalls that formed a barrier between the jungle and the ivory castle. We needed to slow down.

The thicket swallowed Lou up, and I panicked. “Lou, stop!” I shouted, not caring who else heard. If she didn’t slow, she’d run right into the siren fortress, and we’d both be dead. I cursed on a ragged breath. “Stop. Now!”

Chapter twenty-nine

Lou

Fire burned in my thighs and lungs. My calves strained so violently I feared the tendons might snap like faulty rigging with each new impact against the forest floor. Needling tingles crawled up from my heels to my core. I fought a wave of nausea. I understood now why we could only use the boots once. I didn’t believe my body could handle a second go at it.

A voice called out for my attention, then cried louder at my back, vibrating in my ears. Rylander. I dug my toe into the soil, but my forward momentum toppled me, legs flying over my head, once, twice, three times my back slammed into the earth, halting my tumble. Tiny flashes and spots of black dotted my vision, and I rubbed my head with a groan.

After a couple blinks, Rylander’s towering form hovered above. He bent over, hands on his knees, as he shuddered, catching his own breadth. Blood and sweat marred his brow. “You okay?” he asked, dragging his rolled sleeve across his face.

Adrenaline from the sprint still surged through my limbs, lessening the discomfort of my ragged breaths. “I never wish to do that again,” I managed between wheezes.

He extended his hand, and I grabbed it. With him to bolster me, I stood.

“Me either. My legs feel like Hannah’s pudding.” Rylander’s gaze lifted, assessing the area. “We’re close.”