White Stag (Permafrost #1)(61)

“Although, I wonder,” the n?kken said, “are you fine?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I just need to get out of here.” My fingers curled tightly around the vial. “Thank you.”

The cave beckoned for me to let the creature soak away my sorrow and turn it into red stone in the shape of flowers. I forced myself to take one step, then another, focusing on the cold water lapping steadily against my bare feet. I stuffed the vial in the pocket on my bracer, now grateful I hadn’t taken off all my clothes before diving in.

It was relatively calm at first. The coldness of the water shocked away any lingering memories. I swam down the cavern, back to the dark, black water that waited for me, swirling in a merciless trap.

The second I hit the blackness, the force of the whirlpool nearly blew me back into the cavern. I grasped a jagged rock, pulling myself into the stream. Water beat my body without pity, throwing me around like a ragdoll. I grasped another rock, then another, pulling myself up as the whirlpool greedily sucked me down.

My head broke through the surface, and I gasped as air filled my burning lungs. The water wasn’t ready to relinquish its hold and tugged me back down under the waves.

In the blackness, a green hand glowed. Its long fingers wrapped around my ankle, nails digging into the skin. The n?kken’s eyes burned with an eerie green fire as he dragged me under. I thrashed in the churning waves, panic beating in chest.

He gave me his word. But he never said he’d let me go once I got the cure. I reached for the stiletto on my belt and with difficulty pulled it free. Then I swiped at the n?kken’s fingers. He let go, letting blood flow from where his nails had dug into my ankle. Light flashed behind my eyes, and the pain, loss, and regret spilled back out from where I’d buried it. Worthless, needless, wantless. Whip marks on bare flesh, glares from ghosts, rejection, death. The taste of raw meat in my mouth. The arrows through dead bodies, countless dead bodies. It was too much. Just too much. If my chest burst open and spilled my insides into the water, I wouldn’t be surprised. The pressure and pain threatened to tear at the seams inside me.

I sank, my lips parting, eyes closing. A force hit me like a boulder, shoving me into the rocky wall of the abyss. Fingers pried the stiletto from my hand, and I couldn’t even try to stop it; the horrifying visions of blood and flesh and death played like a wheel spinning endlessly. The same force wrapped its arms around my waist, under my armpits, and jerked heavily once, twice, then again until the cold air blasted me from all directions.

Gasping for breath, a pair of pale hands pulled me up out of the water. Soren’s concerned eyes latched onto mine, and in the darkness they raged with fever. The wound on his arm was turning black, the skin open and ugly. Without a second to waste, I ripped open the pocket of my bracer, pulled out the vial, and rubbed the contents into the deepest part of his wounds. Then I collapsed, the visions dancing before my eyes, taking over.



* * *



SOMETIME LATER, I woke up screaming, trapped in a pair of arms. Lydian. Lydian. He’s come to kill me. The vicious goblin was right before my eyes, his once-pretty body now animalistic and bending over to take what he thought was his. But the voice that spoke wasn’t Lydian’s. It calmed my racing heart, but only just.

“Shh,” he said. “You’re going to be all right. It’s going to pass. I’ve got you.”

The sweet darkness returned and took away the pain with it. A scream disturbed the peace, and I was on a field of bodies, those of my family, those of my friends, the bones of children piled high at my feet. Your fault, the skeletons said. Your fault. You could’ve warned us. You could’ve helped us hide. But you saved yourself. Your worthless, worthless self. The disfigured body of a young boy sat up, staring around with one good eye, the other half of his face ripped into bloody shreds. His auburn hair spilled down in ringlets, darkened by blood. The boy’s eye found me, and he tilted his head. Auntie, he said, why didn’t you save me?

I clawed at my face and eyes if only to make it stop. But strong hands held me in place. The arms still pressed me firmly against a body that was hard and warm and almost shieldlike as it enclosed me in its embrace.

“It’s not real,” he said. “None of it is real.” I shook. It was right in front of me! All of it! The piles of bones and the ghosts, the skeletons and the demons towering over me. I couldn’t be the only one who saw it.

I’m sorry, I wanted to say to my sister’s son. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I would change everything if I could! But no words came out of my dry, dusty mouth.

The boy frowned and said, How come I get half a face and you get a whole one? It’s not fair. The heartbroken look in his single blue eye tore my body into pieces, and I madly clawed at my own skin.

I’ll make it up. I’ll make it up. I’ll make it up!

Even though the strong hands were restraining now, their grip didn’t hurt. The warm body curling around me calmed me with its rapid heartbeat. The breath that’d rushed from my lungs was steadying.

“There,” he said. “It’s almost over. It’s almost out of your system.” A hand ran through my hair, the sharp nails pricking my scalp. The sensation lit every nerve in my body in a mix of anxiety and euphoria.

Then I was by Soren’s side as countless ghosts trudged by, their burnt bodies and dead eyes glaring at me accusingly, and their mockery leaving their skeletal mouths as the sound of clinking bones. Who are you, thrall, to follow behind him and keep his company? Who are you to reject your homeland and the teachings of your family? Targets became dead humans whose stares haunted me. With what little emotion they had left, they glared, they judged. You’re a blood traitor, they said. You should die with us, not lower yourself to their standards. You’re nothing but a whore. A pet. A lamb in wolfskin pretending to howl at the moon.