Free The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent) by Bridget Ladd Page B

“What are you doing ?” I hissed. “My legs are capable of holding their own.” I pushed at his shoulders, but his grip was unrelenting.
            “Not where I need you to walk. You’re no good to me if your boots get wet.”
            I narrowed my eyes in the dark. No good to him ? What was I? A blacksmithing tool?
    Sighing in aggravation, I awkwardly positioned myself onto his back and allowed him—with much annoyance—to carry me like a toddler. His steps were sure footed and surprisingly gave off little effort as he carried me through the dark. The muscles in his back were tense as they reacted to his every movement, every slight footfall. The longer I held on, the more exhausted my arms and legs grew from trying not to slip further down his back. I believe it resulted mostly from me trying to hold myself away from him.
    Perhaps I am being a little bit stubborn.
    “This is ridiculous ,” I mumbled to myself.
    I cringed, embarrassed as I felt my arms start to quake and felt my body start to slide.
    Xander paused as he noticed my unease. I took the opportunity to try and re-adjust myself, but found that my tiring arms made the task difficult.
    “Relax,” he said tersely over his shoulder. “I’m only trying to carry you, not court you,” he added gruffly.
    He then, in one swift upwards motion, adjusted me back into position. He took my hands which were poorly gripping at his shoulders and placed them around his neck, securing them with his left hand. “We’re almost there,” he quietly encouraged, this time his tone was softer, apologetic. Surprisingly, I felt more calm this way—though it was still a bit unsettling with my face so close to his neck and with the fabric of his hood that kept scratching at my cheek.
    The constant dripping from the entrance of the tunnel had long dissipated and was replaced with an eerie hollow echo the deeper we went. An ominous droning. In an effort to bypass the water himself, Xander moved in errant paths, sidestepping and zigzagging his way through the tunnel. My eyes, which still had not adjusted to the darkness, were not helping my attempts to pervade the oncoming disorientation that I could feel creeping up on me from the swaying. I discreetly placed my head on his shoulder as I tried not to succumb to the dizziness—and hating myself for having to do so.
    Xander stalled. “Do you need me to stop?” he quietly asked, his face mere inches from mine.
    “No, I’m fine. I just need to get out of this tunnel—I’m worried about Mrs. Fawnsworth,” I added quickly.
    He took a few more steps before he stopped again. He unlatched my arms from around his neck and lowered me until my boots hit stone. He steadied me as I began to sway, directed me to a wall on the right, and forced me to sit. I was relieved to be on steady ground again, but the slimy coldness of the brick against my back did not help to calm my nerves.
    “I’ll come back for you,” he whispered before he turned to leave.
    I aimlessly grabbed for one of his boots in my shock. “So you’re going to just leave me behind after all?” I asked, trying to sound more determined than panicked.
    He stepped back towards me, the gravel crunching, his solid presence crouching. “We’ve arrived at a side entrance,” he whispered slowly, as though he thought I was either half-witted or just paralyzed with fear. I knew I was both.
    He began prying my fingers away from his boot then. My hand snapped backwards from his touch. Embarrassed I had been caught acting so pathetic; I sat back against the stone.
    A few seconds passed before he spoke again. “I need to pick the lock and make sure it’s safe beyond the door.” He gave me a quick reassuring pat on the shoulder: awkward, and forced.
    He cleared his throat, his voice rough. “You’ll only have a few seconds to re-orient yourself once inside. We have to move quickly and quietly. And remember stay behind me,” he added as he began to stand.