Chapter Forty-Six

Rebel hurtled through the air toward the earth. Her body helpless as the world tipped them forward, propelling her down into a spiral from which there was no recovery. She cried out as they spun through the air, weaving with little gaps and spurts like a fly caught in a hailstorm. She jerked and choked. “I have…no control!”

A hand pressed to her chest.

“Hold on,” Anjeline called.

Relief engulfed Rebel as strong arms tightened, latching them together like a magnetic force. Anjeline’s one arm stayed on her waist, strong and steadfast, then she weaved her other arm around Rebel’s own, keeping it straight out. With a last-ditch effort, Rebel went rigid, tilting her head back with Anjeline’s help.

Their nosedive abated.

Rebel wobbled violently, barely clearing a smokestack, and sank through the darkness, her feet skidding over gravel to slow them down. Neither had time to curl into protective balls before they collided against the roof, rolling into a knotted mess of limbs and heat. Her stomach hit hard, something cracking along her ribs, and Rebel tried to cry out, but the impact knocked the breath out of her.

Consciousness strobed black dots behind her eyes.

Her heart sputtered. One…three…five.

She felt hands on her face, on her shoulder. “Rebel…”

The touch warmed and fuzzy energy encased her. She wheezed, gasping in a breath. Her face felt wet, and something cold ran down her neck. Blood? But something caught her on the cheek. The flakes of snow melted against her windburned skin. She opened her aching eyes, blinking away a haze, seeing a halo of heat encircling a lovely face.

“Come on, Faddi.” Anjeline had her palms on either side of Rebel’s face, cradling her head between them. Rebel blinked, seeing her properly now in the pale moonlight, her eyes feverish. Her sweater—Rebel’s sweater—was covered in soot, and one sleeve had been completely torn away, displaying gleaming runes, but otherwise, she seemed unharmed. “You’re all right,” Anjeline rasped with a catch in her voice.

“Well…my heart’s a little angry at me.” Rebel coughed and rolled over. Pain shuddered through her lungs with each breath. Swelling bruises covered every inch of her body, her heart feeling like the biggest one.

Anjeline brushed fingers over her brow. As Rebel glanced up, the night sky they had been soaring through wheeled above her. They had landed atop a graveled rooftop, turreted with gargoyles and four smokestacks, where snow was beginning to collect in lumpy piles. In the center of the rooftop stood a hut-like structure with a door, rusted in neglect. Their only way down.

“Now we go on foot?” Rebel stood up and swayed. “Or not.”

“You’re not used to flying into cement.” Anjeline wrapped an arm around Rebel’s waist and levered her, helping her toward the door. Her chest tightened with each step. The gelid air bore down, cold sweat trickled along her back, and she wished, irrelevantly, that help would come.

Just then the doorknob vibrated.

She tensed and Anjeline fumbled back as the roof’s door swung open. Matching sounds of disbelief left their throats. The figure stood in the doorway sporting his coat of many colors and grinning like a fox who had caught the golden goose.

“Sorry I’m late, love.” Jaxon took a step.

“Don’t!” Rebel thrust up a hand, sending a shudder of pain up her side. “You’re not…taking her or the vase.”

He recoiled as if she’d punched him. “I deserved that. But I’m not here for her.”

Anjeline’s eyes turned fevered. “The only thing worse than a liar is a fox.”

He looked to Rebel, an apology on his lips. “Have my actions not shown my repentance?” In his hand, he displayed a switchblade with a bone hilt. Her beloved blade. “When I heard about the Siren being hoodwinked by the Fingersmith, and her plans to infiltrate the Moon Court for a jinni, I coaxed them into bringing me along.” He knelt on one knee, flipped the knife, holding the blade tip, and offered the hilt to her. “Told you I’d come back for you, love. Sorry, I’m a bit late.”

“Late? How does stabbing me in the back put you on time?” Rebel pushed away the thoughts of his deceit, wanting to believe him, needing to, at this point. “You betrayed me.”

“I know.” Jaxon’s mask slipped for the barest second. “I betrayed myself. A momentarily lapse of judgment. It won’t ever happen again.”

She remembered Piran’s words and squinted, warily taking her knife back, then slipping it in her belt. “You sold us to the Siren. I could be fish food right now.”

He huffed. “They only eat sleazy businessmen.”

Anjeline sighed with infinite patience. “The longer you two squabble, the closer—”

A howl severed her words.

Anjeline’s grip on Rebel’s waist tightened. Together, they turned their heads to the building’s edge and glanced down at the street below, overcome with the billowing curls of smoke and chaos. “If Lady Danu doesn’t get to Wulfram, I’d say five minutes before those mutts scent you out,” Jaxon warned and met Rebel’s eyes. He offered her a hand. “Well?”

Unable to resist, she gave a nod. As Jaxon began toward the rooftop door, she leaned against Anjeline for support. But the little movement made her winded. A tingle of energy encircled her, Anjeline’s heat enveloping her, but only for a few steps. Her heart spasmed and she gasped, her breath sawing at her damaged ribs. Dizziness surfaced, and she shook her head against it. Against the pain blossoming in her chest like a deadly rose.

Two sets of concerned eyes turned on her.

“I can…make it.” She wheezed.

“No. No, you can’t.” Anjeline stared, understanding how bad off Rebel’s heart had truly become. No amount of her offered energy could help now. Unless. Unless Rebel used her wish for her heart—and took away Anjeline’s one chance at freedom.

A deep chuckle slithered from behind them.

Like a door collapsing on Rebel’s hopes, a terrible voice echoed across the rooftop, “Once, there was a girl who wished to fix her heart. Instead, she lost it to the Wishmaker…”