couldn’t fight it as she was bodily hauled through the vigorous tide. She slammed against something hard, garbled a protest as jagged rock grated against her chest, her cheek. Maybe it hurt. How could she tell?
Sobbing with every breath, all she could do was cling to the cliff face, heaving up what bits of the river she managed to inhale.
“Don’t fight me, I’ve got you.”
Caleb’s voice, soothing at her ear. He curled one arm around her ribs, under her breasts, as secure a hold as she’d ever known in her life. It didn’t squeeze. He only held her, solid support against the current.
Juliet sobbed in relief. The river pulled at her, swirled around her waist, but he wedged her tightly between his braced legs and let her tremble. Let her cling to the cliff wall and pull herself together.
It was harder than it should have been.
When her panting sobs had eased to hiccups, and then to forced calm, she realized that his left hand hooked into a crevice, fingers twisted just so to provide an organic clasp. His arm extended, a mottled line in the dark and so taut that she knew it had to hurt. The other still splayed at her ribs, fingers tight. His hips braced hers against the wall, his chest warmed her back even in the cold water.
She couldn’t help herself. Adrenaline and fear drained out of her like a sigh, leaving her empty and exhausted and so cold that it hurt to think, much less move. She let her head fall back against his shoulder. Weary to the bone, her eyes drifted closed.
His heartbeat slammed near her ear. She timed her breathing to it. Four beats in. Four out.
Water slid down her face. Dripped from the end of her nose. Slowly, saying nothing, he settled his chin against her wet hair. The arm at her waist tightened, and she trembled.
They were trapped in the bottom of the Old Sea-Trench, barely hanging on to a cliff face with witches intent on killing them somewhere beyond. It was dark, freezing cold, and hopeless.
And yet. . .
Juliet had never felt so protected in her life.
And that was his strength, wasn’t it? Making people trust him. She clenched her teeth as a full-body shiver set them chattering.
The reassuring weight of his chin lifted. “Can you climb?” The question was even. Matter-of-fact.
Juliet almost laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was only hysteria, anyway. She tightened her grip on the rock. “I don’t know.”
“We’re going to try. Give me your jacket.”
“Wh-what? Why?”
“I didn’t think to bring the rope you cut.” He pulled at her collar, and she sighed. It clattered with cold. With too much effort and his help, she somehow managed to wriggle out of the synth-leather jacket and let him take it.
He fumbled behind her, his muscles sliding against her back. Cold was rapidly replacing any sense of feeling she had left, not that the sodden coat had helped at all.
“We’re tied together,” he said, his voice strained. She could feel the shudders he desperately tried to suppress, a constant vibrating line down her back. “Just do as I say. Left hand first.”
Slowly, so slowly she was sure she’d die of hypothermia long before they got out, Juliet followed his directions. He lifted his left hand to search for a cranny to use, found one, and guided her hand to it. “Put your fingertips together, like you had a puppet. Good.”
She wedged her fingers inside, teeth clattering so badly that the sound peppered his every word.
Then he found his own niche. Followed it with his right hand. Left foot. Right toes. His body strained behind hers, and she realized how much of her weight he took as he pulled himself up behind her. Knew and couldn’t do anything about it as her numbed fingers slipped.
He caught her, the synthetic leather coat snapping taut between them. His breath wheezed out on a gasp that might have been a curse. For a moment, all she could do was catch her breath, muscles screaming.
“All right?” he asked.
“S-sorry,” she
Sobbing with every breath, all she could do was cling to the cliff face, heaving up what bits of the river she managed to inhale.
“Don’t fight me, I’ve got you.”
Caleb’s voice, soothing at her ear. He curled one arm around her ribs, under her breasts, as secure a hold as she’d ever known in her life. It didn’t squeeze. He only held her, solid support against the current.
Juliet sobbed in relief. The river pulled at her, swirled around her waist, but he wedged her tightly between his braced legs and let her tremble. Let her cling to the cliff wall and pull herself together.
It was harder than it should have been.
When her panting sobs had eased to hiccups, and then to forced calm, she realized that his left hand hooked into a crevice, fingers twisted just so to provide an organic clasp. His arm extended, a mottled line in the dark and so taut that she knew it had to hurt. The other still splayed at her ribs, fingers tight. His hips braced hers against the wall, his chest warmed her back even in the cold water.
She couldn’t help herself. Adrenaline and fear drained out of her like a sigh, leaving her empty and exhausted and so cold that it hurt to think, much less move. She let her head fall back against his shoulder. Weary to the bone, her eyes drifted closed.
His heartbeat slammed near her ear. She timed her breathing to it. Four beats in. Four out.
Water slid down her face. Dripped from the end of her nose. Slowly, saying nothing, he settled his chin against her wet hair. The arm at her waist tightened, and she trembled.
They were trapped in the bottom of the Old Sea-Trench, barely hanging on to a cliff face with witches intent on killing them somewhere beyond. It was dark, freezing cold, and hopeless.
And yet. . .
Juliet had never felt so protected in her life.
And that was his strength, wasn’t it? Making people trust him. She clenched her teeth as a full-body shiver set them chattering.
The reassuring weight of his chin lifted. “Can you climb?” The question was even. Matter-of-fact.
Juliet almost laughed, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was only hysteria, anyway. She tightened her grip on the rock. “I don’t know.”
“We’re going to try. Give me your jacket.”
“Wh-what? Why?”
“I didn’t think to bring the rope you cut.” He pulled at her collar, and she sighed. It clattered with cold. With too much effort and his help, she somehow managed to wriggle out of the synth-leather jacket and let him take it.
He fumbled behind her, his muscles sliding against her back. Cold was rapidly replacing any sense of feeling she had left, not that the sodden coat had helped at all.
“We’re tied together,” he said, his voice strained. She could feel the shudders he desperately tried to suppress, a constant vibrating line down her back. “Just do as I say. Left hand first.”
Slowly, so slowly she was sure she’d die of hypothermia long before they got out, Juliet followed his directions. He lifted his left hand to search for a cranny to use, found one, and guided her hand to it. “Put your fingertips together, like you had a puppet. Good.”
She wedged her fingers inside, teeth clattering so badly that the sound peppered his every word.
Then he found his own niche. Followed it with his right hand. Left foot. Right toes. His body strained behind hers, and she realized how much of her weight he took as he pulled himself up behind her. Knew and couldn’t do anything about it as her numbed fingers slipped.
He caught her, the synthetic leather coat snapping taut between them. His breath wheezed out on a gasp that might have been a curse. For a moment, all she could do was catch her breath, muscles screaming.
“All right?” he asked.
“S-sorry,” she
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