Oliver paused midclimb and spun toward me, his eyes bulging.
Then fingers—human and alive—grabbed my arm.
“Go!” Daniel’s voice ripped into my ears. He dashed in front of me—dragging me. And when he yelled “You’re gonna have to jump, Empress,” I nodded.
Rain fell into my open lips. My body had lost all feeling. The world was a haze of gray corpses and churning harbor. An orchestra of gasping breaths and scraping feet.
And shouts—Oliver, now at the top of the ladder, was screaming at me to go faster. But why the devil was the airship moving away from us? How would I ever reach it at this rate?
Daniel’s fingers released me. His feet kicked up, and as his heels lifted toward the ladder, I shoved all my strength into my own legs and jumped.
Air whipped past my ears. I rose as if underwater: slow, heavy. Daniel grabbed hold of the rising ladder rungs.
But I did not.
I wasn’t even close—I had not jumped hard enough. Hadn’t gauged the distance properly. The final rung of the ladder slid through my grasp and flew away.
Yet Daniel would never let me fall. His knees sank, his arm swung down. He reached; I reached.
Our hands clasped, and he tugged me with more power than I ever thought he might have.
Then I flew up the final inches and slammed against the ladder beside him.
As we stood there, clinging for our lives and shaking with exhaustion, the Old Port of Marseille and Marcus’s army shrank away beneath us.
CHAPTER SIX
The gondola hatch slammed shut, and all sound abruptly vanished. It was as if my senses were blanked out—no roaring wind in my ears, no sting in my eyes, and no gulping for the next breath. I just lay there, shivering and wet and blessedly, blessedly safe.
My last sight after Oliver had pulled me into the cargo hold had been one of blue Mediterranean waves with whitecaps hundreds of feet below. No land. No ships.
It had felt like hours of climbing to ascend the airship ladder. Daniel had refused to move ahead—or even release me—so every rung had been a trial. Yet now we were here, my eyes locked on Daniel’s.
“Thank you,” I tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come. I wanted to ask him about the kiss in the street. About how he knew to come back for me. But I could summon no voice before Joseph shouted, “Daniel! I have lost sight of land!”
Daniel hauled himself to his feet, threw me a final, anxious glance, and then hurried into the hall.
I twisted my gaze to Oliver, kneeling beside me. His eyes roved over me. Checking for injuries, but it was not the outside of me that ached. I felt . . . torn apart. Something inside me had shifted. Something had been pushed too far—like a muscle too often unused.
“Where’s Jie?” I asked, trying to rise onto my elbows.
“She’s with your friend.”
“Allison?” My eyes widened, and I jerked farther upright . . . but instantly swayed.
“Should I heal you?” Oliver asked.
“No.” I shook my head. “But are you all right?”
He eased a breath through his teeth. Then he dropped his gaze. “I’m sorry. I thought you were right behind me. Back there.” He jerked his shoulder in what I could only assume was the direction of Marseille. “I would never have left you like that.” His gaze climbed back to mine. “Never, El.”
“I know.”
“Good.” He stood and offered me his hands. “For once I’m grateful to your inventor.” With a grunt, he hefted me to my unsteady feet. “You need dry clothes.”
“Jie” was my only response, so Oliver guided me into the hall. At the galley, gold flashed in my eyes and skirts rustled.
Jie stood in the middle of the room, rainwater pooling beneath her. Blood trickled down both sides of her neck—though one cut was already clotting.
“Jie.” I pulled free from Oliver and lurched inside. “Are you all right?”
She blinked and met my eyes, but it was as if she didn’t even know me. She stayed perfectly still. Perfectly flat.
Until Oliver leaned into the room. Then a shudder exploded through her. “Demon,” she breathed. “Demon.” Her gaze fell and locked on her dress. “Oh God. Get it off me.” With frantic movements, she yanked at her bodice. “Get it off me!”
I darted to her, grasping her arms. “Settle down—”
“Get it off!” Her fingers grabbed fistfuls of skirt, and she yanked. I flung a glance at the door—but Oliver was already gone. So I simply moved behind Jie and set to ripping off the hundreds of buttons that closed the gold silk. She stayed silent, but her fingers were flexed taut and quivering—as if she feared to touch anything. Minutes later I had the gown mostly off her.
Heels clacked and Allison strode in, a metal case in her hands. At my harsh stare she halted and held up the tin. “A first aid kit. To bind Miss Chen’s wounds.”
“No. The cuts must be left to bleed.”