CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMMERY
Though Emmery dragged her feet, bone tired, and wrung emotionally dry, Destonne insisted they go to a nearby pond a short walk from the castle grounds for their first lesson.
The surprisingly private pond hid behind a blanket of leaves, vines, and a canopy of trees smothered in red and orange flowers.
Dappled sunlight broke through the slivers of space despite dusk’s dark embrace.
The wind stirred a sprinkle of petals free from the tree and, like confetti, each petal cascaded into the crystalline surface below.
A soft pitter-patter sounded from the shallow waterfall, an echo of ripples answering each droplet.
Beautiful inadequately described the serenity and storybook quality of this place.
If a talking deer emerged from the brush, winked at her, and sang a bawdy tavern tune, she wouldn’t be surprised.
Destonne had chosen a good place to swim with no crashing waves or riotous tides, only calm, still blue.
The downside? Creatures swam within those waters, ones that made Emmery’s skin crawl, though it didn’t seem to bother Destonne.
In fact the proud tilt of his lips told her he shared this place with her like some long-kept secret.
Now, at the water’s edge, Emmery glowered at the water as if it were made of hot coals. Who could blame her when the pond hungrily glared back and could claim her life in one giant swallow?
Aera eyed the pond in the same way and refused to draw nearer like a creature after Emmery’s heart. Instead Aera darted into the trees with a flap of her onyx wings to chase the birds while she snickered a foxy sound in response to their panicked squawks.
Emmery made a mental note to bring them apologetic birdseed.
Another breeze swept in and she shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself in defense against the cold and clamped her teeth together to keep them from chattering. It was winter after all. And Emmery couldn’t help but notice, like the castle grounds, lush foliage garnished this place.
“Do your gardeners tend to these trees too?” she asked. She threw Destonne an accusatory side eye.
“They did.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he stared at the pond. Did. Interesting. “This is private land. It’s over a hot spring.”
Hot spring? Just the word brought a flush of heat to Emmery’s chilled skin. She studied the water but it gave no impression of warmth. Maybe he manufactured the lie to coax her in then laugh at her torment.
“But you’re sharing it with me?”
“It felt like a good place to share.” His dark curls ruffled in the breeze. “And what a privilege to spend the evening in my incomparable company. Do remember that when you’re cursing my name later.”
And it would very likely be the case since this felt like punishment.
Destonne raised a brow at her quivering form. “Cold?”
Emmery scowled at him. Talia had dressed her in a flimsy pair of skin forming black shorts and a matching sleeveless shirt despite her protests.
The tiny garment barely hid her midriff, and if she raised her arms a band of skin poked out.
Sure, it would be efficient to swim in, but right now, she was freezing her damn ass off.
At least she had her cloak, but it didn’t do much to ward off the biting chill.
“What do you think? And why do I have to wear this and you’re fully clothed?”
He gave her a smug look that curled her stomach. A flush crept up her neck as the unintentional meaning of her words sank in.
“Shall I undress for you? Level the playing field?” Destonne crossed his arms over his chest and his biceps strained beneath his shirt sleeves. His eyes held that glimmer she’d grown so damned tired of. Gods above, this man would surely drive her mad. She didn't want to play his game tonight.
Emmery held her breath as Destonne slung off his cloak and draped it around her shoulders, layering it atop her own.
A clean, soapy smell with a hint of that cool mint she associated with him clung to the fabric.
It dragged along the ground, but he didn’t seem to care, nor did he seem cold without it.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she murmured, taken aback by his kindness.
“I don’t mind,” he said softly, then in the same voice, his eyes boring into her soul, he said, “Now go on. Get in the water.”
All goodwill between them evaporated in a single second. Her insides shrivelled at the thought of actually stepping foot into the water.
Emmery wrapped his cloak tighter around herself as if it could swaddle her in its protection, and barricade her from his irritating order. Mostly how he had commanded her. “You could ask nicely.”
“I did. You wanted to learn to swim, remember? I’m a very busy man.”
“Ordering me into the water isn’t asking nicely.” Weariness sank into her bones. She swallowed hard, trying to mask her fear. “Give me a damn minute. I’m not ready yet.”
He took a bold step toward her and her stomach plummeted. “Are you saying no?” He cocked his head at her, a predatory stillness in his eyes accompanied by a spark of mysterious anticipation.
“So you do understand the word. I assumed you’d never heard it before.
With your spoon-fed life and all.” She took a step back to retreat from both him and the pond like she could outrun this whole situation.
Not because she didn’t want to swim, but because of his arrogant, condescending tone. The way he already pushed her too hard.
Destonne narrowed his eyes, though he didn’t appear annoyed. No, he contemplated how to sway this in his favour. How to bend Emmery to his will. Well, she was a fucking statue. And again, he played his games, even though terror rattled her bones.
“I could always toss you into the water,” he said, his voice low.
So he was testing her boundaries, seeing how far he could push her before she snapped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He took another step toward her. “Are you sure about that?”
“My magic is uncaged, remember? Flames at the ready. I could set your trousers on fire before you even register it.”
Destonne held her stare. “I could jump into the water to put them out.”
“Then I’d boil it and turn you into King-flavoured soup.”
“While that sounds like a rare delicacy, I’m unsure if the flesh-eating fish would look too kindly on that. I did promise them they could feast on your toes and they would be rather disappointed if they went belly up.”
Emmery’s eyes flared but he met her flustered stare. Bastard. Fuck, the thought of fish nibbling on her toes unlocked a new fear. “I’ll scorch your pretty mop of hair,” she snapped.
A glimmer of a smile twitched his lips. “You think I’m pretty?”
Not even her exasperated sigh and pressing her palms against her eyes could curb her frustration. “I’m not getting into that damn water if you speak to me that way. And if you toss me in there, mark my words, I’ll make you pay.”
“Very well,” he hummed. Like the dowsing pinch of a candlewick, he switched tactics and sauntered to a nearby boulder, then balanced his ankle on his knee as he unlaced his boots.
After he removed his socks, he rolled his trousers to his knees and made a show of placing his feet into the water.
He splashed gingerly to prove his point.
“See? Not made of lava. No fatal wounds. No flesh-eating fish. It’s harmless. And it’s warm. So deliciously warm.” The indecent groan in the back of his throat raised colour in her cheeks. “Come. Dip your toe in.”
Emmery glowered at the water. This was what she’d come here for. The need to learn to swim had weighed her down since far before everything occurred with Maela. It stayed with her, lingered like a tormented phantom, and no longer would she allow fear to keep her hostage.
So, she held her breath as she trudged to the same boulder, yanked off her boots with more gusto than necessary, and rolled Destonne’s cloak so it wouldn’t get wet.
Then she padded over to the water’s edge.
Emmery stared at her feet still scarred from those damn boots Vesper had bought her.
The water’s shimmering border stretched for her toes and she buried them into the dirt, wishing she could disappear into it.
Escape to somewhere easier, into another dimension where she’d learned to swim as a child.
But she wouldn’t be here then. Wouldn’t be who she was today.
And it was just a toe. How bad could it be?
Destonne’s insistent stare followed her as she inched forward.
The tepid water welcomed her, and she shuffled in until her feet were submerged, until the water circled or, rather, shackled her ankles.
A deep sigh left her soul as if she’d exhaled decades of fear.
Like this moment resembled a purging, the mountainous feat of taking the first step. It was something.
As Emmery studied the rippling surface, Destonne watched her in the same way. Maybe he debated if hauling her over his shoulder and plunging her into the water would be worth it, or if she would make good on her promise and light his hair on fire. Gods forbid she ruin those perfect curls.
You think I’m pretty? She held back a snort at the ridiculousness of it.
He waded in further and threw challenging glances over his shoulder, but Emmery decided not to take the bait. This was enough for today. She’d done something big already, whether he recognized it or not. It was enough for her.
The rolled cuffs of his trousers quickly saturated, but the King surprisingly didn’t seem bothered.
She studied his back to distract herself, because if she leaned into the water’s touch, focussed on its weighted hold, images surfaced in her mind.
Maela’s desperate pleas and her wide whiskey eyes. The whites around them growing with each shriek.
The splash of the river water as her sister and the bags of stones sank. The water lapping Emmery’s chin and unyielding yank under the surface. Water invading, filling her lungs like a fishbowl fit to burst.
Ice cracking beneath her as she ran from the burning village and the unfathomably dark water below opening its mouth—
Destonne cleared his throat and drew her from the series of memories, the sickening, relentless slew of torment she would never escape. She’d been too caught up in her fear to notice his approach, and he now stood in front of her, his head cocked to the side.
She clamped her eyes shut so he couldn’t see the fear in them.
“I’m not sure about you but I’m spent,” he said. “Why don’t we call it a night and try again tomorrow. Yeah?”
“If you insist,” she managed to say, her voice weak.
Emmery wouldn’t admit she teetered at her limit and she also wouldn’t admit that Destonne saw her fear, and knew she needed reprieve before she voiced it. Before she recognized it herself.
And she didn’t know what that meant for them.