Page 39 of Luthias

“I won’t, I’ll be careful.” Feeling her sodden clothes dragging at her made every step more difficult. The loch got much deeper very fast. She was shaking so hard now she was making the water churn around her.

Like the day at the beach when the current pulled you under. You’re going to die like your mother.

“No, I’m not,” she muttered under her breath as she sank down chest-deep in the loch, “The minute I get back to my time, I’m taking swimming lessons. I am not going to die, not when I can save his life. Luthias. Luthias.”

No bubbles or movement came from the water around the tartan, which was now starting to sink almost as fast as Emery.

“No.” She spat out a mouthful of water, or maybe she threw up a little. She couldn’t tell which. “I’m going to get him. We’re going to live. This is why the sword brought me back. To save him. To save this MacRoss.”

Why would it bring back someone who can’t swim to save a drowning man?

Emery stopped and shouted, “Will you shut up?”

A bunch of birds suddenly took wing from the edge of the loch. The sunlight glittered on the rippling water. Everything seemed to go quiet, even inside her head.

“Thank you,” she said.

As the water reached her chin she finally got within reach of the tartan, and grabbed it. A moment later Luthias’s body bobbed to the surface, but he wasn’t moving or breathing. She swallowed a sob as she put her arms around and turned him over onto his back. A huge ugly gash marred his brow, and blood was still seeping into the water.

Luthias wasn’t moving or breathing.

“Hey, you can’t do this, my lord,” she told him as she planted her feet and started hauling him back toward the bank. “You promised to protect me, remember? I’m a complete ninny when it comes to personal safety, too, so you’ll have plenty of chances.”

It took too many precious minutes to wade through the water with him, but at last she reached the bank, and turned to bend and drag his heavy body out.

“Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” Emery begged in between bursting groans as she tugged at him.

Her heels slipped on the damp grass and she fell backward, hitting her head on the ground. Everything tilted for a moment, and then she managed to push herself up and crouched over the laird, jerking and yanking until he was finally out of the water.

Blood streaked down one side of his face as she dropped down on her knees beside him and tore off her own dripping plaid before she ripped one sleeve off her leine. Folding the linen into a ragged square, she placed it over the wound and applied pressure. The whole time her mind became cluttered with questions she couldn’t answer.

What if I can’t get him breathing again? What if he’s really dead? I never told him how I feel about him and now he’ll never know? Is everyone I love going to die on me?

Luthias still wasn’t breathing, but the loch water was very cold, and Emery knew some people could come back to life even after twenty or thirty minutes. Since her mother had died she had become an expert on drowning victims.

“Freshman year, Red Cross first aid class. I got the best score on hands-on skills, didn’t I? So I’ve got this. This is why that idiot sword brought me back to your time. Maybe I can’t swim, but I’m the only person in this world who knows CPR.” She tilted his head back and braced her hand on his chest, which was when she felt a strange thudding under her palms. “Wait. What?”

Luthias opened his eyes, making her scream and fall back. His eyes glowed with a strange orange-red light that reminded her of the Fire Sword. He then turned away and coughed up what seemed like a gallon of water before he slowly sat up and pushed the wet hair out of his face.

“Are you hurt, my lady?” was the first thing he said.

“I’m fine. How are you not dead? It took me at least ten minutes to get to you and pull you out.” Emery saw his expression before he turned his head away. “Luthias?”

“I cannae drown.” He got to his feet and held out his hand, helping her up.

“Of course you didn’t––excuse me? You can’t drown?” She jerked her hand from his and tottered backward a few steps. “What was that weird light in your eyes? What the hell is going on here?”

“’Tis the magic of my blood.” He peeled off his shirt, exposing a wall of wet muscle, and squeezed out the excess water before he finally looked at her. “I’m no’ all human.”

Emery abruptly sat down and stared up at him. “What else are you?”

“’Tis much you yet dinnae ken of me and the MacRoss.” Luthias looked down at his wet tunic, and pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. As he turned his back on her she saw a port-wine birthmark like Darach’s stretching across the back of his shoulders that resembled a blast of flames. “I’m the son of Prince Ross and his first mortal wife, Brynna.”

“I beg your pardon?” She couldn’t be hearing him correctly.

He sighed. “I’m half-Fae, Mery.”

The man had fallen off a cliff and almost drowned, and now he was joking with her. “Oh, sure you are. I’m not stupid, you know. Prince Ross died nine hundred years ago. How could he possibly be your father?”