Fire and Thorns 03: The Bitter Kingdom by Rae Carson

Author:Rae Carson [Carson, Rae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-08-29T04:00:00+00:00

22

“HOLD on! I’m coming,” Hector calls.

My right foot finds a toehold. It’s not much, but it takes some pressure off my burning shoulders. I just need to be still, to hold on.

Hurry, Hector.

Pebbles clatter around me as Hector descends. I look up to see if he’s close and get an eyeful of grit. I blink hard as tears stream down my face.

He exclaims in surprise, and several furry black bodies tumble past me. My fingers are going numb. I might be slipping again, but I’m not sure.

“Hector?” My voice shakes.

“Almost there!”

Suddenly my left hand is grasping at air, and my weight is too much. I’m sliding, sliding down the wall. . . .

Hector swings into place behind me; his arm wraps my waist. “Got you,” he whispers in my ear. He’s hanging by one hand, holding us both. How is such a thing even possible?

His feet find purchase, and he is rock steady at my back. The relief breaks something inside me. “I’m sorry!” I blurt. “I couldn’t stay. I was too weak to fight them off if they came back.” I can’t seem to stanch the flow of words. “I tried to get to the sewer, but blowing a hole through the wall made me even weaker, and I have no food left, and the rats came, and—”

“Stop.” His arm around me tightens. That’s when I realize that his arms tremble slightly, that his breath comes too fast. He is as exhausted as I am.

He begins to push us both upward. Between breaths, he says, “You know, it’s all right for me to rescue you every now and then.”

“You haven’t rescued me yet,” I point out.

He grunts, trying to pull us over a lip of stone. His forearms are corded with effort. “Elisa, if you could help, even a little . . .”

I reach up with bloody fingers and find a handhold, then another. Slowly, together, we crawl back up the wall and pull ourselves into the hole I made.

My knees are buckling, but he pulls me to my feet and wraps me in a hug. I hug back, my face smashed against his chest. “Thank you,” I murmur.

He pulls away and grabs at a rope dangling from the trapdoor’s opening. Worried, familiar, dear faces peer down at us.

“I’ll make a loop for you to stand in,” Hector says. “The others will pull you up. We have to hurry.”

He loops the rope and ties an elaborate sailor’s knot, then helps me step into it. He fails to hide his grin as he lifts me by the waist and says, “Hold tight. Stand straight and stiff. You’ll be easier to pull up.”

“You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes.”

Now that I’ve stepped into his loop, we are eye level. He cups the back of my neck and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “See you at the top.” Then he looks up and calls, “Now!”

The rope jerks, and I swing wildly, but I make myself as stiff as a plank of wood.

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