But there’s something else, too ...
“What have you got to lose, Rhordyn?”
He lifts his chin. “Everything.”
Something glimmers in my peripheral; a gem held aloft in his white-knuckled fist—too big for him to fully enclose his fingers around.
But it’s not just any gem.
It’s iridescent. The unrefined heart of a pre-storm rainbow. And there’s onlyoneplace it could have come from.
Zykanth trills, peering through my eyes, tapping his essence around Rhordyn’s fingers in a command to drop the treasure.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls his arm back and lobs it through the air, watching me with that condemning gaze as I fight to keep Zykanth contained.
It’s the distantplopthat shatters my self-restraint.
My skin rips, bones crack and grind and swell, muscles pull and stretch, and the water eats us up in a single gulp as we plunge into the sea.
By the time we return to the surface—our priceless treasure stashed deep in the most protected corner of our trove—Rhordyn’s gone.
I’m going to die.
Baze’s sword whistles through the air, nicking my shirt and sending me stumbling down The Plank—the felled tree that stretches from one side of the deep, ashen pond to the other. His follow-up jab has my foot sliding too far to the side, and my arms windmill.
The glossy water may look serene, but the lofty marshes circumnavigating the lagoon are a fence that contains the sinister truth. Something I’m trying not to think about as I totter on the ball of my right foot.
I find my center of gravity and fall into a crouch, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my temples.
“Orlaith,focus.” Baze points his wooden sword at me. “A little blood is no excuse to slack off.”
I doubt he’d have the same attitude if his dick was bleeding.
“You’re not playing fair,” I rasp, unfurling like an emerging fern frond ... though nowhere near as glamorous.
His eyes widen, upper lip peeling from his teeth.
I shuffle back.
“Andyou’renot shielding yourweakness.” He makes another dextrous stab for my innards, but I leap out of reach. “And I’m playing more than fair. I didn’t make you wear a blindfold, though I have one on hand in case you continue to move like molasses,” he purrs, donning a sharp smirk.
“I am not moving like molasses!”
“Are too.”
I hiss, bounding forward, swinging so fast I nick a hole inhisshirt. I smile, reveling in the win ... forgetting my flank is wide open until his sword collides with my ribs, knocking the air out of me.
My foot slips and the last thing I see before I strike the surface of the pond is Baze tipping his head to the sky.
The water snatches me with an icy grip, the stark chill of it shocking my lungs and almost convincing me to suck a breath. I kick, sword still captive in my closed fist, legs churning.
This pond isn’t like the ocean. It’s not salty and swirling and home to my best friend. It’s still and stagnant and it smells just a little bit like dead things.
I break the surface and gasp, dashing a slimy piece of weed off my face, caught in the crossfire of Baze’s cutting glare. “Help me up!” I shriek, trying to ignore the splashing sounds that certainly aren’t coming from me.
“Did you keep hold of your sword?” he drawls, as if we have all the time in the world.
