And there was the matter of its height.
Solmir, apparently, had no such misgivings. One booted foot found purchase on what looked like a jutting tibia; his hand curled around the dome of a misshapen skull. “It’s not that far. We’re only going to the top of the first ridge.” His head jerked up and to the side—a promontory speared out over the side of the bone-mountain, made of what looked like the massive knot of a vertebra. “And the way down the other side is easier than the way up.”
But the shudders had already set into her shoulders; Neve’s fingers were numb in the sleeves of his coat. “It’s tall,” she said in a small voice.
“Is that a problem?”
“Not a problem, no.” But the lie was in her tone, and Solmir heard it.
He looked up, sighed. Jumped down from where he hung on the bones and turned to her, quirking an eyebrow. “Neverah Valedren, are you telling me that you—the Shadow Queen, stealer of sentinels, killer of gods—are afraid of heights?”
She scowled at him in answer.
Solmir laughed. He tipped his head back, scars darkly shadowed on his forehead, and he laughed at her.
Neve’s scowl deepened. “Glad it entertains you.”
“It doesn’t entertain me so much as shock me.” He shook his head, messy braid swinging. “You don’t seem scared of much, Your Highness, and the fact that something so pedestrian as heights is what finally gives you pause is deliciously ironic.”
Her arms crossed, tugging his coat tight around her. “I fell off a horse as a child. A tall horse.”
“Yes, I’m sure it was very traumatic.” He waved a dismissive hand. “But you don’t really have an option here. We need the power of two gods to get to the Heart Tree. And the Oracle will be easier to kill than the Leviathan.”
She knew she didn’t have options, knew that she had no choice other than to climb up this massive pile of bones and kill the god at the top. Neve flexed her fingers back and forth, like the mountain was something she could fight.
Solmir watched her, hands hooked on his hips, face unreadable. “I won’t let you fall, Neve.”
Reassurance still sounded so odd, coming from him. She turned away from the mountain, looked at Solmir instead.
A moment, then he shrugged. “I need you.”
Simple truth, uncolored by emotion. She nodded, one jerk of her head.
“This section is secure.” Solmir kicked at the tibia he’d been using as a foothold. “The Oracle lives on top of it and can’t leave. The mountain won’t fall as long as the god is there.” He inclined his head toward the bones, stepping aside. “You go first. I’ll tell you where to put your hands and your feet.”
Her insides were simultaneously tense and shivery. Neve mimicked what she’d seen him do—one foot on the tibia, then gripping the skull. Her hand trembled, slightly, but Solmir made no mention of it.
“Pull yourself up,” he said, low and even. “Then, you see that piece of rib sticking out above your right hand? Grab that next…”
And so, directed by the former King at her back, Neve climbed the bone-mountain.
When they reached the top, her limbs felt like limp strings. Neve managed to walk over to a chunk of unidentifiable bone and sit down, breath coming heavy, all the fear she hadn’t let herself feel as she climbed pouring into her nervous system at once. She buried her head in her hands and shuddered.
It was ridiculous, her consuming fear of heights. The fall from the horse started it, and it had only been nurtured the older she got—such a pedestrian fear, just like Solmir said. But being the First Daughter and then the Queen didn’t give one much time to climb walls, so the fear remained, swelling and unconquered.
And it was refreshing, almost, to fear something so simple. Heights instead of forests, climbing instead of loss.
After a moment, she felt Solmir come sit beside her. She steeled her shoulders, waiting for him to make some cutting remark, but none came.
“Would you look at that,” he said, stretching out his legs and propping his arms up behind him. “You did it.”
“I did,” she replied.
He sighed. “And now for the hard part.”
“Could we take a minute first? Going right from mountain-climbing to god-killing might be a bit overwhelming.”
Solmir snorted, reaching down to pull out his carving and small dagger from his boot. “Take five, even. The end of the world can spare that much.”
Neve closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths. When she felt a bit steadier, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His knife dug at the wood in his hand, though the curve of his palm still kept her from seeing what exactly he was carving.