Penny rushed to the lake.
Black sand shifted under her feet. She was dimly aware of Grayson speaking, telling her to be careful, but his words sounded faraway. Blood roared in her ears. God-Slayer rested on a thick slab of rock; the sword was made of gold, so bright and blazing that it looked like a beam of pure sunlight.
Grayson moved beside her, surveying the water; his eyes reflected the lake, a melting pot of blue and gold.
"What do you think?" Penny asked. "Do we swim across?"
He held out a hand. "Give me your muffin."
"What?"
"Your blueberry muffin," Grayson said. "Give it to me." He paused. "Please."
Penny raised an eyebrow. She personally thought this was a very strange time for a snack, but who was she to judge? She withdrew the muffin. Grayson considered the pastry, turning it over in his hands. Then he cocked his arm back and threw it into the lake.
The muffin struck the water. Acid burned the bobbing pastry, dissolving it in seconds.
Penny frowned. "I was going to eat that."
"We can't swim," Grayson announced.
"Seriously." She looked up at him. "You could have used your shoe."
Grayson shrugged. "I like my shoes."
"I liked my blueberry muffin." Penny drew a circle in the black sand with her foot. "We could go back. Bring a boat."
Grayson stared at the water. He was wearing the same expression that he got when he was standing on a ship deck, trying to assess which way the wind was blowing. Grayson moved closer to the lake.
She looked up. "Grayson?"
He was frowning slightly, rubbing his tattoo. The swirling loops seemed to pulsate slightly, although that could have been a trick of the light.
Penny touched his arm. "Gray?"
"Something's coming," Grayson murmured. "I can sense it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Something good, or something bad?"
"Something old," Grayson said.
Penny scanned the lake. The water lapped at the shore with a gentle tongue, stirred by some phantom breeze. A shiver slid down her spine. She felt like she was standing in the skeleton of some ancient predator, waiting to hear a heartbeat.
There was a splash.
Penny stumbled back. The water churned, frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog. Grayson flung out a hand to shield her. Something broke through the surface, wet and glistening, reflecting the glittering eyes of the gemstones. A glass bridge, Penny realized, her heartbeat slowing; they were looking at a glass bridge.
Slowly, Grayson lowered his hand.
"There are words." He nodded at the bridge. "On the railing."
Penny sighed. "I hope it's not another rhyme."
Grayson stepped closer. When he looked up, his expression was grim. "It's a rhyme."
"Bugger," Penny said glumly.
Grayson cleared his throat.
An honest thief will seize the sword;
a heart's musician plucks the chord;
for secrets make a muddled head;
and falsehoods make a lonely bed
Penny studied the acidic lake. The cave smelled of damp stone and sulfur, mixing with the harsh soap she'd used in the cottage. Not an unpleasant scent, exactly, but not ideal. It would be a shame to die here, Penny thought; there were far better things to smell when one was dying. Maribel's sweetbread, for example. Old parchment. Candied orange peels and cinnamon. Even wet horse would be preferable.
She eyed the bridge uncertainly. "What does it mean?"
Grayson touched his chin. "I think it means..."
"Go on."
He exhaled. "We have to be honest with one another. No secrets."
"I don't have any secrets," Penny said.
Grayson looked away. "Nor do I."
"Okay." Penny picked up her skirt. "I'll go first, then."
She stepped on to the glass bridge. The surface was smooth and slick, like walking on the surface of an eggshell. She took another step. A third. There were about fifty steps, Penny estimated, to the island at the centre; maybe fewer, if she took large strides.
She heard Grayson follow.
They moved quickly, sliding and stumbling over the surface. The acidic lake shone beneath them. Penny thought of when she was younger, how she'd rearrange the furniture in her mother's parlor to play "The-Floor-Is-Dragon-Fire." The object of the game was simple: make it to the other side without getting burned.
Most of the time, Penny would play alone. But twice, Ryne had joined her, rearranging the furniture so that she'd have to jump higher. Farther. She'd fallen at the last jump, smacking her head against the wooden table. She'd cried so hard that she felt like her eyes would pop out of their sockets.
"Does it hurt?" Ryne had knelt next to her. "Shall I fetch a healer?"
"No," Penny had sniffled. "I'm okay."
"Then what's wrong?"
She'd wiped at her face. "I failed."
I failed you, Penny had wanted to say. She was forever trying to impress Ryne in those days, making clever little paper sailboats and climbing the tallest trees. Ryne's green eyes had been calm. "There's no dragon fire, Pen," he'd said. It's just a game."
Now, Penny looked down at the water, burning blue like the hottest part of a flame. That was the thing with games, she thought; it never truly mattered if you won them. There were no real consequences. No stakes.
They arrived at the centre of the bridge. Grayson paused, one hand resting on the railing. Penny's heart sped up. "What is it?"
"Nothing." He shook his head. "Keep going."
Penny took a step forward. There was a crack. When she looked down, the glass bridge had grown delicate veins, spiderwebbing out from her foot. A pulse started in her throat. "Grayson. Do you see that?"
Grayson's voice was even. "It's only small."
She didn't want to risk turning to look at him. "I don't understand. We don't have any secrets from each other."
There was a pause. When Grayson spoke, his voice had taken on a strange quality, as if he'd realized something unpleasant.
"Come on," he said. "Let's go faster."
Penny sped up. She was racing now, going as fast as her feet would allow on the slippery surface. More glass cracked. Her heart crawled into her throat. "Is it because I called you Grayson? Because that's not your given name?"
"Just keep going," Grayson muttered.
"Or maybe it's because we've lied about things in the past."
Grayson exhaled. "Watch that broken bit."
"What?" Penny half-turned. "I don't see any—"
The bridge collapsed.
Penny screamed. Her feet lost purchase, and there was the terrible sensation of falling. Glass rained down like falling stars. She thrust her hands out, scrambling for purchase. Something stung her palm. A strong hand gripped her wrist, and then Grayson's face appeared, his blue eyes fever bright.
"Hold on," Grayson said. "I'm going to lift you."
The pressure on her arm increased. Penny bit down on her tongue until it hurt. The bottom of her dress was singed, and her right ankle felt raw. There was a crack. Grayson made a noise, yanking at her arm; the socket burned.
"Grayson," Penny said.
He ignored her. His blond hair was messy, his cheeks flushed with exertion. Something in her heart felt like it was cracking open.
"Grayson," Penny said. "It's not worth it. Let me go."
He gritted his teeth. "No."
"You have to get the sword," Penny said.
He pulled harder. "I'm not leaving you."
"If this bridge collapses," Penny said, "then we both die. The world burns." Her throat felt thick. "Where's the sense in that?"
"I can't let you go," Grayson said, and his voice was raw.
She held his gaze. "I'm not afraid to die, Grayson. I'll see Ryne. And my parents."
"I know," Grayson said. "I know you will. But I..." Sweat trickled down his face. "I can't do it. Don't make me do it."
The bridge groaned. Penny closed her eyes. She put every ounce of her power — every bit of concentration — into working magic. Let me go. She let the calm seep between them, stroking Grayson's fingers. It's okay. Let me go. But Grayson's grip tightened. He was immune to her magic, just as he'd always been.
"Get the sword," Penny said. "Please."
He clung to her wrist. "No."
"Grayson—"
"No."
His blue eyes blazed. He looked like an angel presiding over the end of the world, his blond hair ruffled, his skin slick with sweat. His words on the ship came back to her now. I would tear down the godsdamn sky for you. And he would, Penny realized, a lump rising in her throat; he actually would.
"Grayson." Her voice was gentle. "You can't save me."
"No."
Acid churned below her. "It's too late."
"It can't be," Grayson said fiercely. "I—" His voice cracked. "If it comes down to a choice between you and the world, then I choose you, Penny. I always knew I would. I'll choose you over everything. Because that's what we do, for the people that we love."
Her chest tightened. "You love me?"
"Oh, Penny." Grayson smiled, and it was a falling star, blazing for one last time before it burned up into darkness. "I've been half in love with you since the day we met. How could I not?" He squeezed her wrist. "How could I not?"
A large chunk of glass tumbled into the lake. Acid bit at her ankles. It wasn't enough, Penny thought, her throat raw; or maybe they were just too late. But she could die like this. She would be happy to die like this.
"Grayson?" Penny asked.
"Yes?"
"Will you do something for me?"
His throat bobbed. "Always."
"Kiss me," she whispered.
Grayson laughed, and the sound was cracked and wet. He couldn't reach her — they both knew that — but he kissed her hand. His mouth was warm. Penny closed her eyes. She imagined kissing that mouth, the taste of him mixing with salty tears. A kernel of something bloomed in her chest, unfurling delicate shoots. And then a thought: I love him.
Penny opened her eyes.
She looked up at Grayson, her heart hammering. Sometimes, Penny thought, the most obvious truths were the ones that were hardest to look at. But she was looking now. She couldn't look away.
"Grayson?" Penny asked.
"Yes?"
"I love you, too." Her heart pounded. "I think I always have. Even when I lost my memories — even when I couldn't remember who you were — I was drawn to you. I felt that I loved you." Her smile was wet. "How could I not?"
There was a grinding noise.
The bridge stilled. The glass was pockmarked, cut through like swiss cheese, but it was stable; nothing else was falling. Penny looked at Grayson; their harsh breathing mingled. He shifted into a kneeling position, his other hand moving to grip her shoulder. Penny opened her mouth — to ask what, she didn't know — and then a searing pain ripped through her spine.
Penny swore. Her body was airborne, and then she hit something hard. Her shoulder screamed in pain. When she opened her eyes, she was lying on Grayson's chest, their limbs tangled like ropes on a dock. And above them...
Her breath caught.
God-Slayer.
"Pen?" Grayson murmured.
She shifted. "Yeah?"
Grayson's smile was brilliant. He leaned closer, as if he was imparting a great secret. "I'm going to marry you some day."
Something in her chest squeezed. "Good. I'll hold you to it."
They climbed to their feet. Penny's shoulder throbbed like a second heartbeat. She looked at Grayson, tilting her head towards the sword in a silent question, but he shook his head. "Go on."
Penny approached the blade. Warmth seeped from the metal, radiating outwards like a miniature star. She picked up the sword, testing the weight; she didn't know much about swords, but she knew they never felt like this. The blade was so light that it could have been moulded from sunshine.
She looked at Grayson. "What now?"
Grayson's smile was wry. "Now we save the world."