Page 128 of Crown of the Courtesan

My side aches, and I’m out of breath, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop. I swim across to Rett and pull him upward so he can breathe. I tear and tear at the vines until they fall away in sheaths. He hooks the wad of moss from his mouth and coughs out stringy brown goop.

The nymphs circle us like sharks as the moon above illuminates their floating breasts and soft bellies, which peek above the water as they swim on their backs.

“You know, she’s not as ugly as I thought. Maybe we could play with her too.”

Terror sinks its claws deep within me.

My teeth chatter as a breeze tousles my hair.

A breeze.

I pull the air with my magic, making the nymphs spit like angry cats as the receding waves splash in their faces once more. The swirling current grows larger and larger until it propels them away. I plant my feet, and Rett grabs my arms. We use each other as a brace to trudge through the lowering water as quickly as possible.

We pull ourselves out, collapsing on the embankment and scrambling away from the edge. The wind stops. The pool sloshes back.

Rett throws on his clothes while he looks for the horses, but they are long gone. With all the commotion, they likely broke free and fled in a panic.

“Get your things.” His voice is broken and hoarse. “We need to leave. Now.”

Haphazardly, I throw everything into my bedroll before tying it. I don’t bother to put on my dress. I can find that later.

The nymphs’ heads pop up, but they wear tired and lazy expressions. Some swim on their backs, but this time their limbs move slowly and seductively, like they’ve stopped caring.

“Goodbye, stupid human and halfling. Remember us when water caresses your flesh,” the raven-haired nymph curses. “We’ll be there. A promise of revenge.”

“Move.” Rett pushes me forward, his arms full of our supplies. “Don’t look at them.” But I’ve already locked eyes with her black pupils, her words etching into my mind. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me from the clearing.

We sprint until our pace slows into a stumbling walk. Finally, we are so far into the forest that they couldn’t possibly reach us.

Hand braced on a tree, Rett stops abruptly and drops his things onto the ground. He breathes hard for a moment before he whirls to face me. We’re half-dressed, alone in the middle of the night, with our supplies jumbled at our feet. I would laugh if we hadn’t almost died.

Rett pulls me into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around me protectively. Smelling like pond water and soil, he kisses me on the forehead. “Tabitha. Tabitha. Tabitha. Together, we are unstoppable.” He cups my cheeks in his hands, his face wild with survival. “Mother will be thrilled by your agreement to marry me. We’ll win your kingdom back, uniting our lands so that we’ll rule both realms—but most importantly, you’ll be mine forever.”

My heart stops.

The growing smile across my lips crests downward.

I think I might become sick as I remember the tiny nod I gave him in the heat of passion.

Fifty-Five

We don’t sleep.

We repack our remaining supplies and put our clothes on over our muddy, shaking bodies so we can get back on the trail faster. To make matters worse, the stress has brought on my monthly courses, and I’ve lost my necessities somewhere in the underbrush.

For hours, we trek through the darkness in single file until the sun crests over the horizon, peeking through gaps in the trees. The birds chirp louder, and the air grows thicker once more.

“Almost there,” Rett huffs, examining some chipped markings on the trunk of a large willow tree.

“Good,” I pant, leaning with my palms on my knees. “I’m not sure I can take much more of this, and what if there’s something else hiding? Something like those nymphs but worse?” Looking around at my innocuous surroundings of woodland timber, I trust nothing anymore.

My stomach cramps. I need a break, but I don’t actually want to stop. Stopping means talking. Talking means acknowledging regretful promises—and our emotions are already running high.

“You getting hungry?” Rett asks before rummaging in his rucksack. “You’re grabbing your middle all funny-like.” He pulls out a dried meat stick and hands it to me.

I take it and mumble, “Thanks.” I chew it longer than necessary.

We walk for a few more hours, only conversing about the wildlife and flora of his homeland, but even that’s strained.