Page 127 of On Brutal Thrones

The mountain beneath the Obsidian Spire is so enormous that when I tip my head back, one hand shielding my eyes from the wind, I can’t see the Spire at all. We’ve finally reached the rocky foothills at its base, but the mountain itself rises like a black wall in front of us, its jagged slopes disappearing into thick gray clouds. Somewhere beyond them is the thing we’ve been chasing since the Trials began.

Even though I can’t see it, I know it’s there. We followed it for hours after leaving camp at dawn, watching it grow larger with every miserable mile until the mountain eventually swallowed the Spire from view. And now that we’re standing beneath it, I can still feel it. A strange energy hums through the air, so low and constant that I feel it more than hear it. It presses against my skin and seems to vibrate faintly in my bones, calling us upward.

We actually made it this far.

A gust tears around the mountain hard enough to knock me sideways. I throw out a hand, but Thorian is already there, moving behind me and bracing one hand against my hip. His body blocks the worst of the wind as my braid lashes against my cheek, loose strands stinging my skin.

“Careful.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know.”

The sky above us is nearly as dark as the mountain, heavy gray clouds boiling over one another. Lightning tears through them in bright white lashes, followed by thunder so violent I feel it in my ribs. There’s no rain yet, but it’s coming. I can smell it in the wet stone and the strange sharpness that fills the air before a storm. Moisture clings to my skin even as the wind tries to strip away every bit of warmth.

“We made it to the mountain,” Thorian says.

His voice is gruff, nearly lost beneath the wind, but all three of us hear him. Fenric turns first. Talon looks at me. Thorian’s gaze drops from somewhere high above us, and none of us says anything.

It shouldn’t feel like such a victory. The Spire is still somewhere above the clouds. We still have an entire mountain to climb, the Vultures to beat, and whatever horrors the gods have planned for the end.

But we’re here.

After everything, we made it to the mountain.

“Come here,” Fenric says, and I barely have time to look up before he pulls me against him.

His heat surrounds me instantly, glorious after hours in the cold wind. I bury my face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him beneath sweat, dirt, and days spent in the wilderness.

“Oh, we’re doing this?” Talon asks.

“Yes,” Fenric says.

“Good.”

Talon presses in beside me, his body cooler, his hand sliding over my back. Then Thorian wraps his arms around all of us from the outside, and suddenly the wind isn’t cutting through me anymore. For the first time all morning, I’m warm.

Safe might be too generous a word, considering where we’re standing, but for a few precious seconds, I feel it anyway. I close my eyes and breathe them in: Fenric’s warmth, Talon’s cooler skin, Thorian’s solid weight around all of us. Their familiar scents mix with sweat, leather, smoke, and the clean bite of the coming rain.

Right.

This feels right.

My chest aches with so many emotions that I can’t separate them anymore. Excitement and terror. Dread and anticipation. A wild, fragile hope I’m almost afraid to touch because Lyra is close now. Maybe only hours away.

After all this time, I might see my sister today. I might put my arms around her and tell her that I came for her, that I didn’t leave her to a competitor. That all those nights when she must have been terrified and alone, I was fighting my way toward her.

And then we can go home.

The thought is so beautiful it hurts, especially because Valtor is still out there. He knows I won’t abandon Thorian. Whatever bargain he imagined forcing me into, whatever future he planned for us, it isn’t going to happen. And I know exactly how Valtor responds when someone refuses him. My mother wouldn’t bow, and he cursed our family for it. I’ve given him another reason to make us suffer.

I tighten my arms around the men for one more second.

“Are we going to stand here until the storm kills us?” Talon asks. “Or the Vultures appear and take us out.”

Fenric squeezes me. “I was thinking about it.”

A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it, and for a second, some of the pressure inside my chest eases.