He hacks at the chain methodically, though he’s only able to hold it for a few seconds before dropping it from the pain over and over. The dagger is sharp, but the links just absorb the blows. He tries the lock, shoving the blade into the keyhole, wiggling and twisting. He gets no purchase.
I feel more hopeless with each passing second.
He frowns, then sets the dagger down. “Move your foot,” he says, then slips both hands around the shackle and tugs. His arms tense, cords of muscle flexing, but the metal doesn’t budge.
He tries again, this time bracing a foot on the floor for leverage. The chain strains but doesn’t crack. He sits back, breathing hard, but not giving up.
“We could wait for him to sleep,” I say. “Then maybe the key?—”
“He won’t sleep,” Cassius says, tone flat. “Not if he thinks he has a new toy.”
He stands and walks the perimeter of the room, examining the walls, the ceiling, the little holes near the door. “Mermen don’t build,” he says, “they take over abandoned structures. There have to be many weak points in this building.”
He’s talking to himself now, but I listen, desperate for any sign of hope.
He comes back to me. “Can you move at all?”
I pull the chain and shuffle forward, but the ball is so heavy it’s a joke. My breath starts to rush in and out faster.This isn’t working. What am I supposed to do?“Not really.”
He kneels again, this time right in front of me, and takes my face in his hands.
“Breathe,” he says, voice low. “Just breathe. I'm going to get you out of here.”
I take a deep breath. The water’s cold, but his hands are warm, and for a moment I feel safe. Like maybe things were hopeless when I was alone, but now I have a fae king. A King of the Water. If anyone can get me out of this, it’s him.
He says, “I’m going to try something.” He gets behind me, wraps both arms around my waist, and braces his feet on the floor. Then he pauses, his arms tightening around me. I realize just how close we are yet again. Just how little is between us. And it sends my emotions bouncing all over. I shouldnotbe noticing how big his hands are, how hard his chest is, or how good his arms feel around me. Not ever, but certainly not now.
“Ready?” he whispers, his breath hot in my ear.
“Ready,” I say.
He tries to lift the ball and me at the same time.
It moves, a little, then thuds back down. He tries again, this time with a grunt of effort, and moves it another half a foot before dropping it, breathing hard. He moves to the ball, tries to lift it on its own. The veins stand out in his neck, but it only moves another short distance before falling.
He curses under his breath. I watch him, waiting for the moment he gives up, but he never does.
He tries a dozen different ways—twisting the chain, bracing the ball against the table, even using the dagger as a wedge under the shackle. The room fills with the sound of metal on metal, and at one point the chain snaps tight enough to slice into my ankle. I hiss, and Cassius stops instantly, his hand hovering over the wound.
“Sorry,” he says.
“It’s okay,” I manage.
He kneels, face level with mine, and the worry in his eyes almost undoes me.
“This isn’t going to work,” I say, hating myself for saying it.
He shakes his head. “It will.”
“It’s impossible. The ball?—”
He shakes his head again, harder this time. “You’re not thinking like a fae.” He looks around the room, then back at me. “Down here, only the story matters.”
I laugh, bitter. “What’s the story, then?”
He considers my words, his lips pressed into a line. “The story is, the princess gets rescued by a knight.” He looks at me, something like a smile behind his eyes. “I’m the best you’ve got.”
I want to cry, but I laugh instead.
