“No. Come...come...come...please. So close now.” The voice was everywhere, as if an army had surrounded me.
Dark tentacles swarmed all around me, growing long, gnarly fingers and cutting off my escape. Fear gripped my throat. Panic buzzed through my entire being, making my arms and handsshake. Frantic, I slid and slipped on the glass slicked by the bubbling, splashing water.
Something soft and slimy slapped around my bare ankle and yanked me off my knees. Horror and desperation tore from my throat with one single name.
“Kye!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
I didn’t know why I called the king by his name for the first time now or why I thought he’d be the one to help me. I just intuitively hoped he was big and powerful enough to handle the monstrosity that threatened to drag me to a place I feared was far worse than here.
Maybe, deep inside, I also believed that since this washispalace,hisocean, andhisworld, that he would know what to do.
“Kye...” I tried to scream again, but the tentacle yanked at my leg, sending me face down into the water. His name turned into a bubble of breath that might be my last breath ever.
The beckoning whisper became incoherent, blending with the splashing and rippling of the water. I could no longer discern a single word, but the emotion in it was clear. It conveyed a deep satisfaction at successfully trapping its prey—me.
I tried to lift my face out of the water, tried to draw in some air, tried to grab something to hold on to, to kick at the tentacles trapping me...
Suddenly, the movement stopped, and the water stilled. I scrambled to sit up. The tentacle around my ankle had turned from dark to clear. I kicked my leg against the floor with force, and the tentacle shattered into pieces of glass.
“Kye?” I lifted my head, searching for the only one I knew who could do something like that.
His tall, pale shape stood starkly against the darkness of the hall.
“Fuck!” he cursed, kicking a round chunk of glass into the pool.
The water seemed to flatten against the glass floor before retreating, as if being sucked back into the pool it had come from.
“Are you alright?” Kye stood over me.
He moved to offer me a hand to help me up, then thought better of it and hid both his hands behind his back.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, stepping back to a safe distance.
I gingerly pulled my legs up to my chest through the wet shards of glass littering the floor. I felt no pain, just the sickly dregs of terror.
“I’m okay. I think?” I mumbled, trying to regain my composure when every nerve in my body still vibrated like a pinched string.
Kye shoved away the shards with his foot, clearing the way. “Here, come this way.”
He led me back to the bedroom, where I leaned against the closest wall. With my body still shaking from shock, my legs could barely hold my weight.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere? Any cuts? Should I call for a hag to heal you?” Kye fussed over me.
Unable to touch me, he just hovered around, trying to visually inspect me from every angle. I had no idea if I had any cuts. But I just didn’t care enough to look.
“You’re wet,” he stated, taking a step toward the closed trunk but stopping short of touching it. “I don’t even know if there are any towels in there. I’ll get the servants.”
He rushed to the exit from the bedroom, but I stopped him.
“Please, I’d rather not see anyone right now,” I said.
It was bad enough thathesaw me in this state. I didn’t need anyone else to stare at me or prod for injuries. At least Kye wouldn’t prod, since he couldn’t even touch.
He stepped out into the dining room anyway but promptly returned with the half-full bottle of wine left from our dinner.
“The servants would be able to do what I can’t,” he said. “They’d help you get dry and tend to any cuts you may have. All I can do is offer you this.”
Holding the bottle by its bottom, he thrust it to me, neck first.
