I let go of Maddox and rush toward the shore, giddiness spreading like fizzy bubbles through my chest.
“Where are you going?” he calls.
“For a swim!” I cannot wait to scrub my hair and this dirt from beneath my nails.
He catches up to me before I can take off my second slipper. “You cannot swim here. We must find a place where the current does not move as swiftly.”
That could take forever. Who’s to say we’ll find one at all? For all we know, the entire river might be whitewater. “I’m a strong swimmer, remember?”
“The water will be cold, leaching the energy from your body. You will drown.”
Please. I’m not going to drown. “I’ve gone swimming in the quarry in November and been just fine.”
He folds his arms over his chest like my perfectly logical argument won’t sway him. “It is not safe here.”
My longing only grows as I stare into the river’s murky depths. “Looks perfectly safe to me.”
“You are wrong.”
Heat climbs my throat, spreading across my cheeks. “Fine. I’ll just be dirty forever.”
Am I being irrational? Absolutely. Do I care? Not in the slightest.
Who knows how long we’ll be stuck down here. I’m exhausted and famished and filthy. I might not be able to do a damn thing about the first two, but the last one I could fix with one little dip in the river. Butno.
I stuff my foot back into my slipper, grimy bits of sand and dirt coating my toes and all. “Are you happy now?”
“Happy that you are not being reckless.”
Says the man who leapt into a bloody canyon after me. Compared to that, the river might as well be a stroll in the bloody park.
We follow the river as it twists and turns until finally, blessedly, we reach a bend where the shores widen and the water slows in a glassy stretch of brown.
“Isthisa good place to swim, all-knowing Unseelie guide?”
His lips twitch. “I prefer ‘O Wise One,’ but to answer your question, yes. We will cross here.” He jerks his chin toward the far bank. “The path we need will be on that bank.”
“What path?” I assumed we were wandering aimlessly, praying for rescue. This is wonderful news.
“The one that leads to Rosehill.”
“Are you sure there’s a path?” I’ve lived in Rosehill my entire life and have never once heard of a way to reach the bottom of The Divide. Then again, I avoided the canyon at all costs, so I suppose his theory isn’tthatfar-fetched.
“The wolves had to reach your land somehow.”
So we’re walking toward the wolves. Isn’t that wonderful? And he wouldn’t let me swim in a little fast water. Honestly, this man’s priorities are all mixed up.
With the river gliding along the stony shore, I kick off my slippers while Maddox sits and unlaces his leather boots.
“You should remove your dress.”
I glance up, expecting to see a sparkle of mischief in his eyes at the suggestive comment, but find only a serious Maddox watching the river with a furrowed brow.
“I will hold our garments above the water to keep them from getting wet,” he explains.
Wait. Did he sayourgarments? As in his and mine? “You’re taking off your clothes as well?” I choke.
Still, he does not glance my way. “We will need something dry to wear when we reach the far bank.”
