“He…” A small smile tugs at Luella’s mouth. “He reluctantly agrees.”

“Visia and Ridoc, get over there,” Dain orders. “We need to keep the line moving.”

Visia backs up to where we stand, bounces up on her toes, and runs, pumping her arms and legs, then launches herself across the roped-off area and lands cleanly on the other side.

“See, if she can do it, we’re fine,” I assure Luella, hoping it’s not a lie.

“She’s six inches taller than us and not nearly as winded.” Luella swallows. “And no offense, but you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not,” I lie, taking a second to adjust the slipping wrap on my left knee. I haven’t had enough water or enough time off my feet today, and my body is more than happy to let me know about the neglect.

Gods, I never would have made it through Gauntlet if I’d felt like this that day.

Gauntlet. An idea takes hold.

“I’ll—” Ridoc starts.

“Wait a second.” I brace my right hand on the cliff to keep from losing my precarious balance and study the area above the trap, noting one of the thinnest cracks in the rock. Ridoc’s the best climber we have, so it just might work.

“What are you thinking?” Dain asks. “Don’t tell me nothing. You have those little lines between your eyebrows.”

“I’m wondering how attached Ridoc is to his sword.” I breathe through the nausea that always accompanies the dizziness.

“It’s standard issue,” Ridoc replies, then follows my line of sight. “Oh. You’re thinking…”

“Yep.” I glance at Luella so he catches on, and he nods slowly.

“I can’t guarantee it will hold.”

“Try.” I lift my brows.

Ridoc reaches for his sword.

“No.” Dain draws his shortsword, leaving the long one sheathed. “Use this one. It has a longer pommel, and it will be easier to work in.” He hands the sword to Ridoc, then looks over at me. “I still know how your mind works.”

Sloane scoffs.

Ridoc takes Dain’s shortsword and sheathes it in the empty spot at his left, then climbs up a few feet before scrambling horizontally across the cliff face.

“What is he doing?” Luella asks.

“Watch,” I say quietly so I don’t startle Ridoc.

Hand over hand, he carefully moves across the rock, then plants his feet on a foothold that I can’t even see, let alone trust, about halfway across. He frees the shortsword, drawing his elbow back as far as he can without losing his balance, then jabs it into the cracked rock with full force. The screeching sound is worse than a pissed-off gryphon.

“Rock,” he says to Dain, reaching back with his right hand.

Dain picks up a loose one the size of my fist, then stretches his long arms out toward Ridoc, handing it to him.

Ridoc slams the rock against the pommel, hammering it deeper into the cliff until almost every inch of the blade has disappeared, and I don’t miss the slight flinch on Dain’s face. Ridoc grips the hilt and tests it with one palm, then two.

I hold my breath when he drops all his weight onto it, and thank Dunne, it doesn’t give. He rocks his body backward, then swings forward, letting go at the height of his arc and landing on the other side of the rope.

This might work.

“And suddenly this is the Gauntlet, not Parapet,” Sloane mutters.

“Easy,” Ridoc says, then pivots to face me and holds out his arms. “Let’s go, Vi. I’ll even catch you.”

“Fuck off.” I lift my middle finger but grin across the haze at him. “I’m really hoping you’re right-handed,” I say to Luella.

She nods.

“Good. That hilt is eight inches—”

“Seven,” Dain corrects.

“Imagine a man actually shortening a girl’s estimate,” Maren teases.

I can’t help but smile. “Right. Seven inches. Just have to jump far enough to grab it, then swing across like Ridoc.”

Luella looks at me like I told her we’ll be climbing the rest of this cliff by hand.

“Want me to go first?” I offer.

She nods.

“Please take the dizziness and I swear I’ll build you a bigger temple in Aretia,” I pray to Dunne. But maybe that plea should be aimed at Zihnal, because damn do we need some luck. Butterflies attack my stomach.

“You’re sure?” Dain asks.

I level a glare at him.

“You’re sure.” He restates it as fact, then backs up to give me more room.

I bounce up on the balls of my feet, then spring forward, planting that last step just before the rope and leaping toward the hilt.

I feel every beat of my heart marking time as I’m airborne.

Reach it. Reach it. REACH IT!

My right hand makes contact first, and I grip hard, slamming my left into the available space and holding tight as my body swings so I don’t fly forward and trigger the trap.

“You’ve got this!” Ridoc shouts, holding out his arms.

“I will kick you in the face if you try to catch me!” I warn.

He grins and backs up a few steps as I take breath after breath, pushing back the blackening edges of my vision with sheer will, refusing to let the dizziness win.