It’s a sobering thought, and one I don’t linger on. Instead, I wade back into the water, returning to the scene of the crime—not because I want to risk getting hit by another tsunami, but because I want to see if I can find any sealed food that might be floating in the water. Killan’s going to need food to help regain his strength for the walk back home. I’m not strong enough to carry him, and there’s absolutely no way I can haul him up the three-story ladder.
Maybe I could leave him here and run back to the house for Roan and Sorin. But it’s quite a distance, and I don’t want to risk abandoning Killan for any length of time, not when there’s a chance he’s concussed.
Indecision gnaws at my stomach as I hunt through the debris for any of my missing stuff. As much as I’m being brave (or maybe this is actually called being stupid) I stay clear of the exact location where the water burst through the ceiling. Where there’d once been several delicate veins of crystal, there’s a gaping hole several feet wide. And when I stand at the right angle, I can kind of see up into the cave above. It’s empty of water, and from what little I can glimpse of the rock up there, it’s been worn smooth.
I even find a small piece of crystal in the water, which is pretty enough despite it having recently tried to kill Killan and me, to pocket as…a macabre souvenir? Evidence of our near death? Proof of our survival?
What the hell was that, anyway? A freak accident? A simple case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? It’s not like caves are collapsing every other day. If they were, the planet would’ve fallen in on itself, and the brothers never would’ve built their farm underground.
Still, guilt is a hard lump in my chest, so large it’s difficult to breathe around. Killan never would’ve gotten hurt if he hadn’t followed me down here.
The thought of something worse happening to him causes the air to stick in my throat, and I’ve got to close my eyes for amoment and force myself to inhale or else I might stop breathing entirely.
It’s not only my hands that are shaking; it’s my entire body.
So I do what I always do when I’m feeling like this—overwhelmed by my extraordinary penchant for selfishness and nearly undone with worry for a man I’m determined not to care for. I channel my guilt into productivity: rescuing resources, monitoring Killan as he sleeps, and drying my clothes. When he wakes, I want to be fully prepared. He’s done so much for me. Now it’s my turn to help him.
Chapter Seventeen
Killan
Pain throbs under my skull, making the task of opening my eyes nearly impossible. Lydia is organizing small bundles of cloth into wet piles but stops when she sees me watching. I wish I could be more confident that the look she gives me is one of concern and not consternation.
“Harlee told me not to follow.” I say the first thing I think of, to break the silence.
“Smart woman.” Lydia sits back on her heels and presses a hand to my forehead. I do not know why.
Her hairs are partway dry, as are her clothes. There are dark circles coloring the skin under her eyes, and there’s a faint scratch on her cheek, not deep enough to have bled, but there all the same.
I catch her fingers in mine, holding her hand to my chest. She is icy cold. I can feel her shivering. She does not pull away from me, and I shamelessly take advantage of her reluctance to scold me while there is dried blood still on my face. It will not last long.
Our eyes meet, and she hastily looks away. Although it does not escape my notice that she shuffles a fraction closer to me as she does so.
“How long was I asleep for?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a few hours.” She gestures with her free hand at the surrounding cave. “The water level has dropped a couple of inches, but it’s taking a long time to clear. I still don’t really understand what happened. How did you know the water would come rushing down like that?”
“An educated guess,” I admit. “The water leaks through minute gaps in the rock.” I wince, as talking causes fresh pain thumping through my head. “Where the crystal forms, it blocks those cracks, trapping the water. And where there is a lot of crystal, there is often a lot of trapped water. It is tempting to use these lakes to cultivate algae as they are by far the largest and deepest, but the crystal weakens the rock, and so we avoid them.”
Gingerly, I touch the top of my head. There is a tender lump where I must have been hit. My hand, too, is sore—the hand I used to shield my head. And there is a mark across the back of my palm, where my scales have broken. That my bones were not also broken is a testament to the protection scales provide.
I flex my fingers, wincing at the pain, but pleased when everything appears to be working.
I collect my datapad from my boot. It is waterproof but not damage proof. The screen is cracked, and it won’t turn on.
“Broken,” I declare. Akh well, in the time it would have taken Roan to get here, hopefully I will have recovered.
“Do you think you can stand?”
“Yes…” Dropping the now-useless datapad onto the ground, I close my eyes. “In a moment.”
I do not need to see Lydia to know she is glaring.
“In a moment,” I reiterate, as if repeating it will make it true.
“Right...” Suspicion enters her voice.
Were I in the habit, I would smile. Despite knowing it would probably piss Lydia off even more.
