3. Crocodile #2
He was only tormenting himself if he kept fantasizing like this. They needed to talk. And sorting out what he wanted wasn’t worth distracting Imalroc, so the conversation needed to wait until after the fight.
He counted out loud as Imalroc held himself underwater as long as he could. The tips of Rerdas’s toes were wrinkled from the water, and his back ached from sitting on the ledge for so long, but there was still no sign of Etiana.
“Imalroc,” Rerdas called, trying to get his attention. “This is enough.”
“Hardly,” Imalroc gasped, but he swam back.
“You shouldn’t be too tired tomorrow.”
Imalroc scrunched his eyes shut and dipped beneath the water again. When he popped back up, Rerdas cocked his head to the side. “Can you open your eyes underwater?”
“I suppose. But I don’t like to.”
“Why not?”
Imalroc pursed his lips and let out a stream of bubbles before latching his fingers to the ledge next to Rerdas.
He was too curious to leave it alone. “What is it?”
“It’s an old habit. So I don’t see any fish.”
“Fish?”
“I hate fish,” Imalroc said.
Rerdas tried not to laugh, truly he did, but it escaped.
Imalroc frowned. “Haven’t you had a big fish slap up against your foot when you’re swimming? They’re slimy. And I don’t like the way they move.”
Rerdas’s answering laughter bounced off the vaulted ceiling. “I’m sorry,” he managed, “I’m picturing you flailing at a bunch of helpless trout—” Then he lost the rest of his sentence, laughing again.
Imalroc grinned up at him. Too late, Rerdas realized why the smile looked so dangerous. The battleboxer whipped both arms toward him and sent lukewarm water crashing over him.
His laughter spluttered into coughing, but he couldn’t wipe the foolish delight off his face.
Imalroc glided forward. Fingers coiled around Rerdas’s ankle, gripped him tight, and warm lips pressed against the inside of his bare knee.
The sensation was gone so quickly that he wasn’t sure it had happened.
Imalroc flipped onto his back and kicked away from him, floating into the opposite end of the bath.
Rerdas reined his breath in hard. He ran a hand down his face to clear the excess water. His mouth stung deliciously beneath the dragging pressure of his palm. Fuck it, he couldn’t let it stop at that. He was getting in the water for the kiss he needed, whether it was a good idea or not.
The door groaned open just as he leaned toward the pool.
“Earthbound gods,” Etiana called from beside the door. “Don’t tell me he’s still in the baths. It’s been ages!”
Rerdas blinked, jolting back from where he’d been about to drown whatever was left of his good sense. “We were just leaving.” He scrambled up from the ledge.
“Why are you soaked?”
“Uh... training mishap.” He brushed his fingers through damp hair.
“Right.” Etiana shook her head, but thank the gods, she moved on before a full blush could turn him crimson. She snatched up a thick towel from the nearest bench and offered it to Imalroc as he hoisted himself out of the baths.
“What did you find out?” Imalroc asked.
Rerdas watched the battleboxer’s eyes turn back into steel. Every trace of teasing softness gone.
“Not much, but it’s something at least. Let’s get upstairs,” Etiana answered.
In Rerdas’s room, Etiana dragged a third chair over to the little table, wrinkling her nose as she watched Rerdas and Imalroc inhale the food she had brought. They had both changed into dry clothes, but their skin was still waterlogged.
“It’s as though you’ve never eaten food before,” Etiana muttered.
Rerdas grinned. “Than- oo,” he said around a massive bite of potato.
Imalroc shook his head, picking at his own food.
“Gods above and below, Rerdas, even the battleboxer is disgusted.”
“Mmmf,” Rerdas replied, and then managed to swallow. “I’m not surprised. He has a much more delicate disposition. Much like your own, cousin dearest.”
Etiana’s foot connected with his shin beneath the table, at the same time as Imalroc flicked his soaked braid over one shoulder and splattered water across Rerdas’s face.
Rerdas yelped. “Oy! Stop! At least take turns with your bloody retaliation!”
Imalroc’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile, and Rerdas flushed hot with pleasure again.
Etiana slapped her hands on the table. “Serves you right. Now, to business. How sturdy is that ship you mentioned in the center of the box?”
The good feelings shriveled into an anxious ball lodged beneath Rerdas’s ribs. “I don’t know, Eti. It looked mostly decorative.”
“Well, his best shot might be climbing up onto it once the water rises. If it even goes as high as you’re both convinced—”
“It will,” he and Imalroc said together.
She shifted, eyeing Imalroc. “Then you want to stay out of the water. From what I gathered, a water battle like this is Vativa’s element. She’s said to be very tricky, uses her environment well, and is an excellent swimmer.”
“Being a good swimmer is one thing. How good can somebody be at fighting while swimming?” Rerdas protested.
Etiana’s expression was grim. “Very good. They call her the Crocodile because she holds her opponents underwater until they drown.”
The children had thrown stones painted with a crocodile mark. He suddenly wished he had not eaten quite so quickly.
“The Crocodile,” Imalroc said softly. He slid his plate away with a clatter.
Etiana nodded. “They said she comes from the coast. Her people were oyster divers or the like. She’s very at home in the water.
But Imalroc is more than enough of a fighter to take her down.
” She sounded so confident, Rerdas felt a trickle of relief as she continued.
“You’ll have to get to her quickly and do damage before the water rises.
She has her strengths, but hand-to-hand isn’t one of them.
If we can turn this into a sword fight, it’ll be no contest.”
“She fights with a sword?” Imalroc asked.
“A shortsword and a few daggers. Keeps one near her ankle, the others should be at her hips.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all, I’m afraid,” Etiana said.
Imalroc stood and stepped away from the table. “Then I’m going to sleep.”
“Fair night,” Rerdas called as the battleboxer vanished into the hallway. There was no reply. He avoided Etiana’s prying gaze, busying himself by piling dishes onto a tray for the servants.
“How long will it take for this to bring her out of it?” Etiana placed a familiar little packet on the table as she spoke, staring at it as though it was about to explode.
“The sultana warned it could take time. Did you give her tonight’s dose already?”
“No.”
“I can do it.” Rerdas reached for the packet of purging powder. Etiana alternated between nervously hovering beside the door and leaning over him as he set a kettle to heat.
His aunt lay ensconced in the folds of heavy blankets on one side of Etiana’s bed. Rerdas stirred the purging powder into steaming water and waited for the mix to cool, wrinkling his nose against its potent smell. The salty, sharp scent prickled at the back of his throat and made his eyes water.
“It’s a wonder we can get her to drink this,” he said as Etiana lifted Uralta’s head. Rerdas spooned the tonic down his aunt’s throat, praying for some kind of reaction. The medicine trickled out of sight, but Uralta never even twitched.
“She weighs practically nothing. I can barely get her to take soup anymore.” Etiana’s voice shook, and Rerdas looked up to see her on the verge of tears. “It’s not working.”
“Eti, it’s only been a few days.” He set the mug down so that he could wrap his arms around her and swallowed back his own fear. He held tight to his trembling cousin.
This was what it felt like to be part of a dying family.
To watch everything slipping through his fingers.
He closed his eyes and remembered the sound of his father’s voice, words indecipherable but stern and steady.
He remembered Uralta as she once was, one firm hand on his shoulder and the other on Etiana’s as she told stories beside a friendly fire.
And he remembered scrambling up into the green canopies of the trees, drinking sunlight and wind.
And the sensation of his heart free-falling into Lokano’s hands with every touch.
Perhaps he had already spent all the happiness one person could get.
“It will be alright. We’ll find a way.” He knew he sounded hollow. It matched him. Sometimes he felt he was made mostly of empty caverns, carved by all the people he’d lost.