Chapter 12 Drowning
DROWNING
He dragged me down, deep into the pool’s depths.
Cold punched into my body like fists made of ice. My hands scratched his chest, clawing at his armor, searching for anything that’d break his hold, but it only tightened as he hauled us into the dark.
I slammed my elbow into his ribs.
His grip loosened and I twisted away, tumbling into darkness. The water closed over me with the same finality as the throne room’s silence when all those screams had stopped at once. The light above faded to nothing.
Then his hand found my dress. He yanked me back against him, one arm locked around my waist, and we kept sinking through a pond that shouldn’t have been this deep.
I couldn’t breathe.
He’s going to drown me here. In this filthy pool where no one will find my body.
The passage narrowed, rock walls pressing closer, and my head spun with the need for air. Black spots. Blurring edges. My lungs screaming.
Then he kicked up hard. The world flipped as he grabbed my hips and shoved. I shot upward like a cork from a bottle, the water releasing me as suddenly as it had taken me.
I broke through the surface, gasping.
He emerged a moment later, his hair streaming. He caught my waist, dragging us toward the edge. Solid ground. I coughed up water, my lungs on fire.
He crouched beside me. “Still breathing. Good.”
Mist curled from his body in lazy tendrils. He looked like a death-god with his glistening armor.
I tore my gaze away.
Trees loomed around us, their dark boughs curving like ribs, moss draping their limbs. The air was thicker. Warmer.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Far from Skalgard.” The executioner raked a hand through his soaked hair. “No one knows of this passage, but that doesn’t mean soldiers aren’t searching for us.”
I brushed dirt off my arms.
My dress was ruined. Once-fine fabric now stained, sleeves hanging in tatters, the stitching pulled apart. Worst of all, the wet material clung to every curve, transparent as gossamer, leaving nothing to the imagination.
His gaze slid over me. Then he unfastened his cloak and threw it at me like I was offensive to look at.
“Put this on. You’re useless to me if you freeze.”
I scrambled to catch it before it hit the mud, wrapping the heavy wool around myself with shaking fingers. It smelled like him—steel and pine, mixed with something lovely…like spring flowers at the market. The fabric swallowed me whole, his body heat sinking into mine.
“We need to keep going,” he said.
“Where?”
“To my people.”
I straightened. “Are you…a Dreadfae?”
Dreadfae raided villages, stealing livestock, gold, and sometimes women—none ever seen again. Some whispered that they enslaved these captives. Others claimed that humans were sacrificed during the blood moon. Nobody knew for certain, but fear of the Dreadfae’s savagery kept most far away.
And one of them held me captive.
He laughed coldly. “Dreadfae. What happened to nightborn devils?”
I crossed my arms. “You don’t seem offended.”
“Why would I be? It’s entertaining, listening to humans spin their stories about the fae. You’re all so afraid of us.”
“We don’t fear you. We hate you.”
“Do you always believe what you’re told?”
The low taunt sent a shiver through me.
“I believe my eyes.”
“What do you see now?”
I loathed him. “A killer.”
“Good. We understand each other.”
He was so infuriating. He stood, water streaming from silver hair that clung to his neck, perfectly at ease. Like he hadn’t pulled me through an underwater death trap.
“I’m not a blood-drinker,” he said finally. “The people you call Dreadfae have fangs. I don’t.”
“Comforting.”
“If I wanted to hurt you, I would’ve left you in that throne room.”
That sat heavier than the wet cloak on my shoulders.
I faced him. “Then what do you want?”
“You’re a weapon. If I don’t keep you close, someone else will.”
Like Vaeris? He’d promised to help me, but where was he? Grieving over his parents? Had he even noticed I was gone? Was he too busy searching for Rheya?
“Let’s go, human.”
I bristled. “I have a name. Aelie.”
He shook his head. “You just offer it up to a stranger?”
My stomach sank. “I thought that was a superstition.”
“A full name given willingly is powerful, yes, but if a rune is tied to it? If it’s etched into flesh or stone? Then the name is yours no longer. It belongs to him.”
Good thing I'd only given him the short version.
Standing, I glared at him. “Give me your name.”
He turned slowly, a shaft of sunlight highlighting the blade of his nose. His skin was flawless and cold, just like the rest of him.
“You want my name? How charming.”
My face heated. “You have mine. It’s only fair I know yours. Or do fae only care about fairness when it benefits them?”
“Nothing in this world is fair, least of all between us.”
I swallowed hard. “Still. What is it?”
His mouth twitched. “Kairos.”
“Kairos. Is that your real name?”
“Close enough.”
“Then why bother telling me at all?”
“Because we’ll be spending a lot of time together, and I’d rather you call me something other than executioner. Come along.”
A fresh wave of fury surged through me as Kairos moved ahead on the path leading away from the pond, his long strides devouring the distance. He didn’t glance back. The sheer arrogance, assuming I’d fall in line like an obedient pet.
I needed to get away from him.
Tension coiled in my chest, tighter and tighter. I bowed my head as I followed him, pretending to focus on the uneven path. I stole glances at the thick undergrowth. There were narrow spaces between the trees where the brush thinned out. If I were fast, I could slip through before he noticed.
Do it. Now.
I bolted between two trees, branches clawing at my dress. I stumbled, caught myself, kept running. No footsteps behind me. Was he following?
I risked a glance—nothing but mist. When I turned forward, he stood in front of me, smirking. I slammed into him, knocking a gasp from my lungs.
I shuffled back, spun, and took off again. Branches whipped across my face, but I tore through them like a wild animal. My foot snagged on a root, and I went down hard, moss cushioning the fall but not enough. Pain shot through my palms.
“You’re starting to slow,” he taunted.
I scrambled upright, panting. I whirled around, scanning the trees.
“Giving up already?” His voice echoed everywhere. “Or waiting for me to catch you?”
“Leave me alone!” I shouted.
Mist slithered up my calves like frozen fingers. Then a hand grasped my waist and yanked me backward. I hit the ground, and he landed on me. Solid and far too close.
His hair had loosened from its tie. His mouth was parted and flushed, as though he’d just finished kissing someone. His eyes held the same cold focus he’d worn while ending lives.
I planted my hands on his blood-splattered cuirass. I pushed, but he was so massive it was like shoving a boulder.
He shifted, bracing his thigh against mine. The contact burned straight through my dress. Gods, what kind of monster was I to feel anything but horror for the hands that had drenched the dais red?
“Get off me,” I hissed.
His breathing dragged as if every ounce of control was being bled from him. A sound rumbled out of him—low, feral, not human.
It vibrated deep inside me.
His nostrils flared, and for a terrifying moment I thought he’d sink his teeth into me. Instead, he jerked back and hauled me upright.
My heart kicked like a trapped bird.
Then he grabbed a vine hanging from a tree. Ripping it free, he secured my wrists.
“What are you doing?”
He tightened the vines and then wrapped the other end around his fist. “Tying you up.”
“I gave you your freedom!”
The vines bit into my flesh. Chains again. The Runecloaks, the execution block, now this. Freedom wasn’t for people like me. It was always stolen.
Slowly, he faced me. He reeled me in. Inch by inch. Until I had to crane my neck to meet his punishing gaze.
“You broke the chain. Don’t mistake that for holding the leash.”
He turned around and yanked on the vine.
I stumbled forward.
Fae bastard.
“Keep up,” he said over his shoulder. “We wouldn’t want the forest to claim you before I do.”