Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) by Nazarea Andrews Read Free Book Online

balance.
    Berg’s eyes widen at the impossible amount. “No. I can’t get that much.”
    My expression is pitiless, and I can see the hurt in his eyes as I growl, “Make it happen, Berg. You made the promise.”
    He flinches as I turn away—despite my anger, I don’t like this. I don’t
want
to hurt him. Hurting him is like hurting myself—we are so close that what hurts him is inflicted on me as well.
    “She will die,” I whisper against the window, a shield drawn to protect us from the elements. “Kaida trusts us—we saved her, and brought her here. Berg, we have to try.”
    I can’t wait for his answer—tears are stinging my eyes, making my nose burn. I dart past both him and Gwen, fleeing down the hall and ignore my cloak on its peg. The night waits like a dark mouth, gaping and pitiless. I race into it, years of living in the ice and mist making it second nature to pick my way across the treacherous rocks. I hear a shout behind me, but ignore him, my hair whipping my face as I lose myself in the darkness.
    I slow when I reach the pine, leaning against the trunk as great shuddering sobs break free. I collapse in a heap with burning tears running down my cheeks, and I give in to the desperate anger that has been building in me. Something changed in me, when I almost fell into the water—emotions I have long held inside are running rampant. I don’t know how much longer I will be able to keep them bottled up.
    I hear the door to the Manor shut behind me, through the pain and tears I wonder what Gwen has done to convince Berg to give me what I craved—solitude.
    Then the swirling emotions—fear, desperation, hope,
rage—
claim me, drag me down in the maelstrom. I don’t know how long I lay there, screaming and crying. My voice is hoarse when I finally stop. The lights from the City are dull—the Commission carefully regulates when they are lit, and to what brightness.
    I snort, wiping my face on my dress. The Commission regulates
everything.
    I slowly become aware of a prickling on the back of my neck, similar to the feeling I get when Berg looks at me with the children. The sensation of being watched.
    But Berg isn’t here—I am alone in the darkness.
    Except I’m not.
    The feeling intensifies, and I am suddenly conscious of the silence—above the roar of the Falls, there is no sound. No nightwills singing in the darkness, no screams of the ban-wolf, no hissing from fire-lizards, or flap of leathery dragon wings.
    Nothing but the Falls and the loud beating of my heart.
    I look around, clenching a rock in my fist. It isn’t much—and is probably unneeded, but it makes my heartbeat settle. I feel safer, and very little offers that illusion for long.
    A soft rustle of pine needles jerks my attention to the branches above me, and I bite back a scream as I see him: golden eyes bright, white hair damp and standing in uneven tuffs. His ears swivel toward me, perking at the slight inhalation I make. He makes a low noise—a growl—and I clench the rock tighter.
    I watch him, torn between fear and fascination as he drops from branch to branch, coming closer to me. He moves with liquid grace, his leg muscles bunching and releasing in an arching jump. Long claws hook the branch, and the scent of pine swells above the musk of male and wet fur.
    He pauses on the lowest branch, watching me intently. I stare at him, the rock forgotten in my lap. There is something tragic and fierce in his posture as he looms over me, slightly hunched, ready to spring—away? Or in attack? Golden eyes flick to the city and then back to me, in unmistakable question. I sigh, looking at it. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, not bothering to hide my bitterness.
    When I look back, he has dropped from the tree, and stands almost close enough to touch. I gasp, and his golden eyes dart to me, and he steps back. “Don’t,” I say, before I can stop myself. “Stay.”
    His eyes are cold. How can eyes the color of molten gold be so