Prologue
Malachi lounged on the rickety old rowboat, arms folded behind his head, as it bobbed in the slow current running behind his house at Riverside. Birds chattered in the oak trees surrounding the garden, and the lazy rocking of the boat made his limbs heavy. The summer sun burned against his skin; his striped t-shirt clung to him with sweat.
His younger brother, Rhys, muttered as he fiddled with a fishing rod. His blond hair stuck to his neck, the sun picking out the freckles on his nose. They rarely caught anything, but it didn’t stop him from taking the task seriously.
Over breakfast, Dad and Aunt Ina, had been whispering about the lack of fish during peak season—odd, considering neither of them had ever shown any interest in fish unless they were eating it with chips. Malachi stretched out in the heat, basking in the sun not caring one way or another if there were any fish left to catch.
“It won’t knot properly.” Rhys brushed his mop of hairfrom his green eyes, scowling at the tangled line. “Dad usually does it.”
“What won’t knot?” Malachi leaned on his elbow and shielded his eyes from the glare.
Rhys waved the rod and line. Rising, Malachi slipped on Dad’s sunglasses, which he’d swiped from the kitchen table. They were far too big and slid down his nose as he took the rod from Rhys.
Dad had promised to come out with them, but after breakfast he’d shut himself in his office with orders not to be disturbed. The door closed like a vault before Malachi could remind him of his promise. He’d peeked in before heading outside, only to find the room empty. Dad had been pouring over the tidal forecast for days, planning their fishing trip, but he’d vanished without saying goodbye, rather than enjoying the sunshine on a rare dry and cloudless day on the island of Latharna like he’d promised.
Down by the jetty, Ina tugged on the mooring rope for what must’ve been the tenth time before deciding it was secure. She stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the river as though expecting it to misbehave.
There was no breeze, not even a ripple on the surface. Ina didn’t normally fuss when they were on the water. They’d been raised on the river; they knew the rules, dangers, and safety lectures by heart. But she’d been unusually quiet over breakfast and had made them help clean up the kitchen before going outside; something she’d never insisted on before. When Malachi asked if she was okay, she brushed him off with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“What about—?” Ina was clearly about to suggest an alternative to fishing when the landline rang in the kitchen.
Malachi’s stomach sank. They’d been looking forward to fishing for days, but if the hospital was calling for Ina tocover a shift, she wouldn’t allow them to stay on the boat without an adult. They’d be fine in their locked house for an hour until Dad came back from wherever he was, but staying on the river would not be an option, no matter how hard they argued.
“Never mind.” Ina’s shoulders slumped. She gave the rope one last tug, then marched towards the house. She hesitated at the backdoor, mumbling something to herself, before disappearing inside to answer the phone.
“Do you think Dad’ll fish with us later?” Rhys’ eyes lit up.
“I’m sure he will, once he’s finished working,” Malachi smiled, though a lump sat heavy in his chest.
There was no point disappointing Rhys by telling him Dad had left Riverside. He’d probably slipped away to avoid Rhys begging him to stay and fish like he’d promised. Dad always caved for Rhys, especially if there were tears involved. Malachi’s stomach hardened, he never got away with things like that. As the eldest, it was his job to be strong and look out for his brother.
Oblivious, Rhys beamed and stretched beside him. Dad was his hero. He could do no wrong in his eyes.
The gentle bob of the current lulled Malachi to sleep, until a heavy thud against the side of the boat snapped him awake. Bolting upright, he grabbed the edge to steady himself, fingers biting into the damp wood, as the vessel rocked violently beneath him. They drifted towards the middle of the river. His body tensed. Rhys had better not be messing around.
Malachi glanced towards the kitchen window. No sign of Ina. If she’d seen Rhys fooling around, she’d be storming down the jetty, ready to drag the boat back to shore with her bare hands. He turned back—and froze. The thick rope thatanchored them to the jetty lay coiled on the deck, its fibres frayed and split like torn sinew. Crouching, he ran a finger along the rough strands. It hadn’t just come loose. The rope had been cut.
“Rhys? What are you—?” Malachi’s words caught in his throat as he stared, open mouthed, at the tower of water surging straight towards them.
He jumped to his feet, fighting against the roll of the boat. Rhys stared straight ahead, his small body trembling from head to toe. There wasn’t time to shout or even think—the wave hit them head-on.
Malachi lunged for Rhys’ hand, but he was too late. The boat toppled sideways, dumping them into the murky depths. Their screams vanished beneath the roar of the water.
The cold struck like a fist, punching the air from his lungs. It burned, fire and ice flooding through his veins at once. He broke the surface with a gasp, dragging in air that scorched his throat, praying his brother was safely above the water.
“Rhys?” Malachi’s heart raced as he gulped in fresh air, legs treading water like he was sprinting and turning in frantic circles, desperate to see any sign of his brother. The ripples settled, no bubbles popped on the stilling surface. Panic surged like electricity through his veins.
“Da—” Malachi’s throat was hoarse, the sound died before it became a word. He tried again, but nothing came. Not that it mattered. Dad had left Riverside. Ina would still be on the phone, especially if it was Tilly and not the hospital on the other end. No one was coming.
He swam towards the upturned boat, dread churning in his gut that Rhys would be trapped under there. Malachi dragged in a deep breath and dove. The river closed in overhis head, dark and heavy. He kicked hard, eyes burning, as he scanned beneath the hull. It was empty.
A thin stream of bubbles tore from his mouth, racing to the surface, carrying his panic with them. He burst through the surface, gulping air into his tight chest. His legs were weak and heavy. Still no Rhys. Malachi whipped his head towards the house, praying Ina had noticed, but the windows remained shadowless. There was no more time. Rhys needed him.
He filled his lungs again and dove. The world dimmed to greens and browns. Silt billowed with every kick. He’d swam in this river his whole life, but never like this, never on a life-or-death rescue mission.
Kicking towards the riverbed, his legs cramped, fire spreading up his calves. Fighting against the pain and the pull to close his eyes, he couldn’t rest until he found Rhys. It was his job to protect him. Dad would be furious if he left the river without him, even more than the time he sneaked into his office and tried to hide behind the bookshelf during hide-and-seek. Dad had never been so cross, but right now, Malachi was just as furious with Dad for leaving. If Dad hadn’t broken his promise, they’d be safe.
Malachi’s lungs burned, and he had no choice but to surface. Turning to swim up, movement caught his eye—Rhys, thrashing and kicking barely a few meters away.
