She made a“Pfft”noise between her lips. “As if I am not used to living among those who want to see me dead.”
Elsedora’s earlier suggestion of flowers paled in comparison to what I truly owed Sybilla. Ryn would at least ensure that our arrival in the rough lands was a pleasant one. It had been a long time since I’d tried to convince a woman to entertain the idea of my company.
Taking her into the underbelly of dark magic seemed incredibly foolish, but we were running low on options.
“The people there are not inherently bad,” I reasoned.
She snapped, “I never said they were.”
I sighed against my impulse to bite back.
Her renewed coldness made it impossible to prove that my feelings had grown beyond what was required of us.That damned list.I still hadn’t formed a compelling argument against my own written words.
One of my soldiers trotted from the front of the party. He yelled, “Trouble ahead, my King. The river is running deep from the first rainfall. We’ll need to ford it carefully—there’s a shallow point, but the current is strong.”
“Understood,” I barked back.
We approached the river. Its rush was more rapid than I’d seen here before. I watched the first soldiers attempt to cross. The water nearly reached the horses’ bellies, even at the shallowest point. Sybilla’s small mount might be withers deep.
“Would you like me to Shadow us across?” I asked.
She turned her chin up. “The soldiers ahead have crossed fine.”
“We’ll go slow,” I grumbled as my mount’s hooves splashed into the water. Sybilla’s horse stepped in beside mine and flared its dish-shaped nose with a snort. The current tugged at the horses’ legs, and they strained against the rushing water.
“Easy.” I urged my mount onward as we fell into a single file line with Sybilla behind me.
I shot a worried glance back just as the blue ribbon that held Sybilla’s hair caught the wind and pulled free. Her lips fell open as she tried to snatch it from the air, but it blew forward and hit her horse’s ears. I could see her mutter a curse. Her horse spooked, leaped forward and then stumbled.
“Sybilla!” I called back as her horse collapsed to its knees—the steed’s head disappeared below the surface as he thrashed and tried to regain his footing.
“Woah, woah!”
She tried to pull up on the reins, but her mount began to roll sideways.
“I can’t swim!” she called out. The wind blew her hair across her pale, panic-stricken face.
Sybilla was knocked free of the saddle with a yelp. Her mount fled, swimming toward the bank. Sybilla’s hands grasped at the water, trying to grab onto something, anything, to keep herself afloat.
The rushing river began to carry her away.
No.
She gasped before being pulled under.
No, fuck, no.
“Sybilla!”
My horse’s hooves hit dry land, and I sprung off and raced downriver.
Three of my men, who had already crossed, rode ahead and looked for her. The hooves of their wet mounts pounded against the riverbank. I could hear the men calling to each other. She hadn’t resurfaced, and their panicked shouts only heightened my fear.
I continued sprinting down the bank. I couldn’t see her in the muddy water, and the faster the current moved, the faster my heart pounded.
I couldn’t lose her too.
Her head popped above the water a few yards from where I stood.
