Page 279 of Sky’s Edge

To another stairwell.

As we descended, I noted this was all stone. No snow. No ice marble floors.

But contradictorily, it was cold as all fuck.

At the end of a short hall down there, a hall that didn’t smell all that great, and the vibe of it was far worse, we ran into a door.

A dead end.

I was about to let her go so I could attempt to use my strength to break it down, something I hoped I could do because it was made of wood and iron, it was obviously old, but it was not rickety.

But Mon ordered, “Stand back.”

Alert to her no-nonsense tone, I did.

She positioned in front of the door, put her hands at her chest, palms facing out, and with a push on the air, the door buckled back, exploding, the planks of wood flying into the dark beyond.

Okay.

Seriously.

“What the hells?” I snapped.

I knew my human gal had some witch in her blood.

But that?

Princess Anna was a farging royal, and she probably couldn’t do that.

Monique took my hand again and we raced into the room.

I knew what it was immediately.

The dungeon.

Albeit undoubtedly interesting, I did not take a look around.

We sprinted through some rooms and down yet another hall—this one contained nothing but cell doors (a goodly number of them)—to another dead end.

It was made of stone.

And there was nowhere else for us to go.

Though, strangely, even if that was the case, it looked like someone along the way wanted to go through it, quite badly, because there were an abundance of blast and scorch marks all over the surface.

“Gods dammit,” I bit off and whirled on her. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Face the wall, Cat,” she demanded.

“What?”

“Honey,” she whispered. “Trust me. Just face the fucking wall.”

She was no less tweaked.

No.

She was more tweaked.