11. Drowned Rats #3
Gannet tilted her head and studied me. “What are you doing with him?”
“Griffon?” I asked, as if she might have been talking about anyone else.
Charis and Gannet seemed like nice, normal people, but I still wasn’t sure I could trust them.
I thought through the possible answers and settled on one that was the truth, but didn’t give away too much. “He’s taking me somewhere.”
“By choice?”
My face scrunched in confusion. “As in, is he taking me against my will?”
Gannet nodded with concern.
“No! No, it’s nothing like that. I’m with him by choice.” Questionable choice, perhaps, but still my choice.
Worry remained etched in the crinkles around her eyes. “Where is he taking you?”
“Somewhere safe,” I replied. I hoped. Assuming we didn’t die in the process.
I could tell she wanted to push for more answers, but must have decided against it. “It will take a few more minutes to fill. I’ll get you some new clothes.” She paused, taking me in. “Something that should actually fit you.”
Glancing at the tub filling with water once she stepped from the room, I wiped the sweat beading on my brow.
At the Citadel, I figured out ways to cope with the fear.
After what that man did to me, I could only use buckets of water to sponge myself down.
Then I learned to wait until the middle of the night to sneak to the bathing room when everyone was asleep.
Even then, I pushed the supply cabinet in front of the door.
If I felt confident that no one could get into the room and hold me under, I could get into the basin and speed through a bath.
But I was no longer in a controlled environment. Ever since I left, I found myself in situations where, in an instant, fear would consume me.
No one here would hold me under. I knew that. Logically, rationally, I understood this. But logic and rationality had very little influence over the part of my brain that insisted I was about to die.
There was movement out of the corner of my eye.
It was the round window that viewed the open sea. Something very large and dark darted by, interrupting the blue. I stared into the turbulent swirl of the displaced water and waited.
I was interrupted when Gannet entered the room again with clothing draped over her arm. “You’re thin like I am, but much shorter. This dress is meant to hit my calves and be worn with deck boots when on the boat. It’s nothing special, but it should be about the right length.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
She turned off the water. “You’re welcome. Get cleaned up, and last meal should be ready by the time you’re finished.”
She closed the door behind her, and I turned back to the window. I waited again, straining to see into the depths. Still nothing.
I found the steaming tub again and let out a sigh. Bathing shouldn’t be this difficult. Why couldn’t I be like everyone else? Stepping up to the door, I turned the lock and gave the handle two firm tugs to confirm the latch was secure. Then, for good measure, I pulled it one more time.
I hurried over to the bathing tub. As soon as my skin made contact, the hot water thawed my chilled bones.
The heat soothed my clammy skin, but did little for the tension in my muscles.
Relaxing wasn’t an option. Lingering would be wonderful, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from the locked door.
I frantically washed and jumped out of the basin to towel off.
The clothing turned out to be a plain white petticoat and a simple sky-blue shift, with short sleeves and an empire waist just below my bust. And she was right.
It fell just above my feet. But as simple as it was, it was still the most form-fitting dress I’d ever worn.
And that’s if you considered my usual wool robes to be dresses at all.
I looked down at myself. I had a shape. Who knew?
I turned to head for the door and froze.
Its enormous, elongated body slithered by so close to the outside of the glass, I could see the keels of its iridescent green scales, so dark they appeared almost black.
With wide eyes, I stared out into the darkness from across the room. A veil of murkiness fell over the water as sediment and particles kicked up and swirled in its wake. I waited to see it again.
The weight of uncertainty pressed down on me. Why wasn’t I screaming and running from the room right now? That’s what a normal person would do, right? See a giant sea monster, run away. Basic survival skills.
But with every breath I took, the glimmer of possibilities grew brighter. Did I want to live this life being scared and intimidated by every unknown? I needed to understand. I yearned to learn, to know what this world was about.
Curiosity fueled my courage as I took a defiant step closer to the window. And another. And then a handful more. I stood not even an arm’s length from the glass and waited again.
This was either very brave or spectacularly stupid. Time would tell.
First, the front of its enormous snout appeared through the haze in front of the window.
Its nostrils flared. As it floated closer, its vertical pupils and bright eyes appeared to protrude from its triangular head.
Like two pools of molten gold, the color was sharp and almost unnatural against the rest of its dark, scaly skin.
I didn’t breathe as we stared at each other.
The predator’s focus was fixed and unblinking, but not calculating or predatory.
It wasn’t being aggressive. It almost looked…
curious. Spurred by that thought, I rested a palm on the glass.
My open hand was the size of one of its nostrils, which really put things into frightening perspective.
If this glass broke, I would be a very small, very crunchy snack.
The moment held, as if the world had slowed to a crawl.
And then the creature floated forward and bumped the glass with its snout before slowly retreating again.
I smiled. It was curious. This enormous, terrifying creature was curious about me.
It slowly blinked—there was intelligence in its eyes. And then, in a swirl of churning, shadowy water, it disappeared again into the haze.
I stood there for a moment longer, my hand still on the glass, grinning like an idiot. “Well,” I said to the empty water, “that was significantly better than a panic attack.”