Page 446 of Coal Hearts

“Whatever it was, I’m grateful.” Hoisting Peter higher in her arms, she added, “Let’s put him down, and then we’ll figure out what’s next.”

We eyed up the driest part—a tussock padded undergrowth in the centre of this strange natural amphitheatre. Together, we half-carried, half-dragged Peter and gently lowered him as carefully as we could.

Rachel ensured his head was pillowed on the thickest part of the tussock while I rested his arms by his sides, careful to keep his oozy, charcoal hands from falling face down. Mollie arranged his legs and squeezed his knee as if telling him it was okay.

With streaks of paint from his bullseye and cave-smeared skin, he looked as if he’d been burned by a dragon and now lay cursed like some reversed Sleeping Beauty fairy-tale.

I studied his face, waiting for him to wake.

When he didn’t, we all stood and stretched.

Our moans were identical as we worked out our many kinks.

My shoulders throbbed.

My spine blazed.

Every bone and muscle ached with a thousand bruises, but I would’ve carried Peter for days if it meant we ended up here...together and alive.

“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to go back down there if we can help it.” Mollie spun in place, glancing at every side of the bowl we’d found ourselves in.

The sides soared as high as a two-story building, the walls covered in twisted plants and stunted, ugly trees. No vines to climb. No convenient rope to scale. Unless we were rock climbers, getting out of here would be almost impossible.

And with Peter...

Almost as if the thought struck all of us at the same time, we made eye contact and slouched.

We could get out...possibly.

We could clamber to the top...maybe.

But Peter?

Even if he woke again, he wouldn’t be able to use his hands and feet to scale anything, let alone a freaking mountain.

“Well, crap.” Rachel scrubbed her face. “Perhaps one of us gets out and finds Victor? The gong will have gone by now.” She pointed at the rapidly darkening sky. “It’s past twilight, and he’s a stickler for rules. The Masters will have to be on their best behaviour again.”

“You could go.” Mollie cocked her chin at me, her shoulder length blonde hair swinging. “Find Master H. He’s Victor’s latest pet project. He could bring a few guards to haul Peter out.”

Henri.

The instant his name soaked into my ears, my dead heart fisted and came alive again. Its unwillingness to thump since we’d entered the Temple of Facets was now replaced with a very real, very annoying pounding.

I hated that it thrummed in longing.

That it turned traitor by whispering he could fix this.

I scowled.

He wouldn’t fix this.

He would make this worse.

He hated Peter.

He tolerated nothing and no one.

I crossed my achy arms.