Chapter 37 #2
It takes a second for his words to register. I’m still caught on what he said about being a monster, but I manage to blink through my stunned silence and glance down at the plate.
Last meal. The implication makes me want to laugh. “And you chose chicken?”
The tension in the room is severed instantly, his shoulders sinking with the release of it. “Yeah,” Salem huffs. “I chose chicken. Close your eyes and pretend it's steak or something.”
I take a few more bites, realizing mid-way through chewing that he’d said: depending on how tonight goes.
“Wait.” I barely avoid choking. “Did you find a way into the dungeons?”
Salem sighs, long and drawn out. “Lucina, there is only one way to get into the dungeons.”
“No.” I set my fork down. “Are you fucking serious?”
“Snaring gets easier the more you do it.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
“But I have something that might help.”
“That’s also what you said last time.” I get to my feet, reaching for my discarded vest. “The wrist thing helped with nausea, but it did nothing for the rest of it.”
“Just let me explain—”
“No,” I fire back. “What you’re asking me to do, my body does not respond well to. I need to get into the dungeons, but being unconscious would defeat the whole fucking purpose.”
Salem regards me as if everything I’ve just said he’s already considered. “You’ll stay conscious,” he explains, “if you don’t breathe.”
I blink back at him, waiting for him to tell me he’s kidding. He doesn’t. “Um, not breathing is like the number one reason people lose consciousness.”
The sarcasm sharpens his stare. “The mist is why you lose consciousness,” he grits out. “I was given the ability to Snare for transporting fugitives back to Pyra. It’s like a…sedative.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“If you don’t breathe it in, you’ll stay conscious. Theoretically,” he adds, with a slight bob of his head.
I know if I open my mouth, I’d have nothing but more obscenities—that would fall on deaf ears—so I keep it closed.
I don’t believe he’d even offer Snaring if there was any other option, and I have to get into the dungeons. On a scale of one to I fully trust the Hound, I’m sitting at a confident seven, and that’s only because of the bargain we’re both sworn to.
Unfortunately, I can’t in good conscience let the percentage of trust he and I are lacking get in the way of the reason I came here. The people below us who need me—need both of us.
I clip my vest into place and exhale a defeated breath. “Don’t breathe?” I clarify.
He nods, rising from his seat. “It will only take a few seconds.”
It takes me a minute to gather the courage to move, but I force my feet to shift, crossing the room and planting myself in front of him. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work—”
“Can you hold your breath?” There’s a taunt in his tone, and I don’t very much appreciate it.
I glare up at him. “Yes?”
“Then it will work.”
Salem moves to take my wrist, pushing his finger into the pressure point that I’m fairly certain is a mind trick that doesn’t actually work. I don’t flinch at the touch, at the odd chill of his skin, but when his other hand comes up to cover my mouth, I swat it away.
“I’ve got it,” I assure him, appalled that he’d even try such a thing. “Gods.”
Salem smirks.
I ignore him, taking a deep breath before covering my mouth and nose with my palm. I can’t risk any of it slipping through.
He waits until I’m situated before asking, “Ready?”
I nod.
This time when the mist comes, I’m conscious enough to watch it rise, stunned at the way it blots out the floor, the walls, the ceiling…Everything becomes it. Everything becomes…him. Vibrant blue, all-consuming, a threat of something massive. A higher power, and it’s absolutely everywhere.
A weight presses on my chest, and I feel my eyes get heavy.
Salem’s hold on my wrist tightens, and his other hand comes up to support my back.
Eyes springing open at the touch, I notice concern on his face.
Whatever atmosphere we’re in pulls on my body, tugging and pushing every which way. But in his grip, I’m not moved by it—not a single inch.
My hearing falters, a rolling sound tumbling through my head, like I’ve been shoved beneath the surface of a towering wave.
It’s the same haunted echo I’d get when putting my ear to a seashell as a girl. When Ivy and I first found the Cove, we figured out that after a storm is when the sea spits out the biggest conchs. The noise is familiar enough that I find it soothing.
But the world we’ve been plunged into isn’t blue like the Cove. It’s blue like the heart of the sea. Blue like the Eldral my father gave me. My surroundings, however, pale in comparison to the set of eyes looking back at me.
Between slow blinks, I try my hardest to focus on them—the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen.
The Hound’s eyes, I’ve decided, are part of his deceptively lovely exterior.
But right now they are even more breathtaking.
Clearer than I’ve ever seen them. So clear, I can see my own reflection in the cerulean hues.
His irises have burst into a thousand tiny fragments, coming alive with the power he’s exerting. There are so many shades of blue that I could never even spot them all.
After another long blink, my vision focuses enough to note the way he’s looking back at me. There’s still concern on his face, but there’s curiosity too, his dark brows knitting together as if my eyes are as fascinating as his. Doubtful.
Another slow blink and my lungs start burning, the need to breathe starting up in my ribcage. I pinch my nose harder, pressing my lips together until they ache.
Despite not inhaling the fog around us, I feel its effects tapering the edge of my consciousness. It hasn’t crept in nearly enough to take me, but the desire to give in...to sleep...is overwhelming.
My heavy head bobs, and his hand comes off my wrist to catch it, a firm palm pressed into my hair. Great. We’re going to get to the dungeon, and I’m going to puke all over the floor.
At least I’ll be conscious. Hopefully. Though the effects are strengthening, and the pull to sink into it is just as demanding as the burn in my lungs.
The concern on Salem’s face deepens, and through my slowing blinks, I can see the mist moving faster around us, trapping our bodies in a cyclone of vivid blue. More color pours into his irises, brightening them beyond belief, and as quickly as it all speeds up, it stops.
Gravity hits and my body sags in his hold. My boots drop to a hard ground, and I rip my hand off my face and inhale a full breath. The oxygen soothes my lungs instantly. I take in another. And another.
“Hey.” His voice is distant, like it’s been muttered through a wall.
I feel large hands on my shoulders, sliding down to grip my arms.
“Hey,” Salem says again. “You’re good. Come on.”
The more he talks, the clearer his voice becomes, and the lighter my body feels. I blink a few times, realizing with a twinge of embarrassment that I’m death-gripping the sleeves off the Hound’s shirt.
Pulling my hands away, I rock slightly on my feet. It takes me a few seconds to stabilize myself, and he keeps his arm outstretched, just in case.
When I look up, I find that his eyes are back to their normal, striking, blue—not nearly as much life in them—and one black brow is lifted in silent question.
“I’m good,” I assure him, waving off his hand. “I’m good.”
Turning to take in my surroundings, I freeze.
We’re in the dungeons, alright, and there have to be at least a hundred blinking eyes staring back at me. At us.
The gravity of what we’re doing here hits me then. I can only imagine what they’re thinking, seeing me blink into existence with the Hound of all people. Gods, they look horrified.