More bolts fly from the criminals’ boat, and someone lets out an agonized scream behind us.
I duck, raising my shield, dread pooling in my gut.
Sisenna clutches at the bolt through her throat, stumbling backward. Maeva lets out a curse. “We need to get her to a healer.”
“It’s too late,” Brenin says as Sisenna collapses back. “She’s dead.”
The crowd jeers at us, and for a single moment, time stops. I never liked Sisenna. But her death is a waste. What am I doing here? What are any of us doing here?
I catch sight of the woman with the scarred arms leaning over therailing of their boat, eyes narrowed as she tracks a kelpie. The creature slams into their boat, and several people shriek.
The woman’s gaze meets mine. Her expression is still defiant, and the way she holds herself is almost familiar.
More bolts. More screams from our boat. The criminals are working together, while our people scream frustrated curses at one another.
I hiss through clenched teeth. Next to me, Brenin lets out an enraged roar, drawing back his crossbow.
The bolt shoots straight, and I let out a choked cry. “Wait!”
It hits the woman with the scarred arms, slamming into the spot just below her collarbone. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, and she wobbles on her feet.
A tall man lunges, reaching for her. His hand sweeps through empty air as she pitches over the side of their boat, sinking into the water.
Hester lets out a victorious laugh.
A memory slams into me. The woman standing in this arena, head high, sorrow in her eyes as she stares at the man whose life she was forced to take.
I suck in one deep breath. And then I dive back into the churning water.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Iswim down, down, down into the murky depths.
Malevolent gazes burn into me from all directions. Here, I’m nothing but prey.
Maybe I have a death wish after all. Now that I’m faced with the reality of this decision, I have to fight the urge to turn around and swim toward the safety of the platform.
There.
The woman is sinking like a stone. She’s still alive, her eyes open, dazed. But somehow, she must know I’m not here to kill her, because she reaches her hand out for mine. My hand slides into hers and I kick, pulling her higher.
A tug on my arm. She’s suddenly shaking her head, eyes wide and horrified.
Dread slices through me like a blade and I begin to turn, releasing her hand.
The kelpie slams into me, rolling us through the water. I roll with it, and continue rolling, until I’m sitting astride its back. It bucks, rears, attempting to throw me off. But my hands find the slippery seaweed of its mane and I clutch it with all my strength, my legs floating behind me as I pull myself even closer.
Holding on with my left hand, I use my right to fumble for the dagger in my boot, tightening my grip on the hilt until my hand aches. If I don’t get us out of the water soon, the woman won’t need to worry about the bolt in her chest.
The kelpie bucks, violently throwing its head. I hold on relentlessly, my veins flooding with cold rage. I’m not dying down here. And neither is the woman behind me.
I catch a single glimpse of her as she attempts to kick weakly for the surface, her blood darkening the water like a pool of ink. The kelpie tosses its head once more, but this time I’m ready. My lungs ache, begging me for air, but I kick furiously. Reaching out with one hand, I grab the silver bridle, and a furious red eye glares back at me.
But the kelpie goes completely still for one precious moment. As if it knows what I’m planning next.
The silver bridle is connected with several dark pieces of leather. I slice through the browband. The cheek piece. The throatlatch.
The kelpie tosses its head, but it’s no longer attempting to kill me. No, it’s attempting to shake the bridle off. One more slice that comes precariously close to the kelpie’s nose, and it’s free, tossing its head. I release the bridle, turning to swim toward the woman still floating nearby.
