Tessa
For an eternity, I hear nothing. It’s so quiet in the house that I begin to piece together sounds from the night: the distant waves lapping at the shore, the insects in the trees outside. It’s warm, and a drip of sweat has worked its way down my spine. Erik put this sack over my head, but he didn’t tie it around my neck. It still reminds me of the night I was bound in the palace, waiting to face the King’s Justice.
Corrick would want me to fight. He’d want me to plunge this dagger into Oren Crane, too.
It was one of the first things I said to Erik after Corrick died:I want you to teach me to fight.
But I’m not a killer. Not really. Even the night I snuck into the palace to kill Harristan and Corrick, I couldn’t do it.
Just now, the memory makes me feel immeasurably weak.
I keep thinking of the way Bella came exploding out of that room on the ship, sweating and sick because Rian had beenpoisoning her. Am I fighting on Rian’s side because he’sright, or am I fighting on his side because he got to me first?
But I trust Olive. I trust her opinion of Oren. That helps steel my resolve.
I wish I knew where Erik went. I don’t even know if he’s still in the room with me. I don’t think so. Earlier, he whispered that he’d be checking the other windows periodically because he didn’t want us to be taken unawares—and he still doesn’t trust Rian.
The silence goes on for so long that time seems to stretch into infinity—and when sound finally comes, I nearly jolt out of the chair.
It’s a grunt and a scuffle in the hallway somewhere behind me, then the clear sound of a punch being thrown. Glass breaks somewhere, and a man utters a muffled curse. My heart leaps into a gallop, and I jerk at my loose bindings automatically.
Then a hand brushes my arm, and I cry out. I hear a sharp, indrawn breath, but I’m already scrabbling for the dagger. My hand closes around the steel hilt, and I pull it free with a ragged cry.
Suddenly, my thoughts don’t matter. My reasonings don’t matter. I’m being attacked, and I fight back. Just like I’ve practiced, I swing that dagger down with all my strength.
I strike nothing, and instead, I’m wrenched out of the chair sideways, landing on the floor on my back. It nearly knocks the wind out of me, but I kick hard, relieved when I make contact. I try again, but his weight lands on top of me, grabbing my wrist and smacking my hand against the floorboards until I let go of the blade. I don’t know if this is Oren Crane or one of his attackers, but I’m pinned to the floor underneath his body, and my fingers scrabble desperately, seeking the dagger.
“No,” I say, because tears are already burning my eyes. I struggle against his grip, wishing I could see. “No—please—Erik—help—”
My assailant goes still. Completely frozen.
I take advantage of his stillness to redouble my struggles, my fingernails clawing at the floor. Steel brushes my knuckles, and I twist my wrist, grabbing hold of the dagger.
His grip loosens the tiniest fraction. I squeal in rage and lift my arm to drive the blade into whatever I can reach.
But he catches my wrist again. There’s no violence to it, just a secure grip.
The man is breathing so hard I can feel it against my chest.
Then he says, “Tessa?”
My heart stops. I can’t breathe. The dagger falls out of my hand and clatters to the floor.
It’s impossible.
Without warning, the sack is yanked off my head. Cool air rushes in to soothe my tear-stained cheeks.
But there he is, right in front of me. Blue eyes and a smattering of freckles and those sharp features that I’d recognize no matter how many shadows cloak the room.
“Oh, Corrick,” I whisper, and my breath hitches.
He’s staring down at me in wonder, as if I’m the one who’s been dead all this time. My thoughts refuse to believe that he’s here, that this is real, that this is possible.
“Am I dead?” I say, and my voice breaks.
“No, my love.” He takes my hand, and he brings it to his face. He kisses my fingertips, then presses my palm to his cheek. “Very much alive, I promise you.”
I blink, and his face goes blurry before clearing. A tear rollsdown my cheek. I’m afraid to move, I’m afraid tobreathe, like this is a dream. Like I’ll touch him and the illusion will shatter.
