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It all happens so fast. The girl grabs me by the hair, then I’m underwater. A scream rips out of me as I fight to surface, but she keeps me under.

Damn, she’s strong. I must have picked a fight with a village girl who actually trained for this island.

Sofia must try to help, because nails claw against me, attempting to pull me up until they vanish as more bodies enter the water.

They’re helping her.

I’m going to die.

Raw adrenaline floods my body as I struggle. My small lungs scream for air, and I know I’m not going to stay conscious for much longer.

Taking a chance, I desperately feel for one of my vials. Opening one will empty it completely, and depending which I manage to select, I might buy myself time to get away, or I might kill us all.

Here goes nothing, I think as I fumble for one of the vials, hoping I’ve caught the last one on my leg, and pop it open.

When a cooling effect washes over me, I thank all the Gods I can think of for picking the best one.

The chameleon tonic, one that allows the host to adapt to almost any situation.

I go still, playing dead under the water as I force in a breath. Liquid fills my lungs, but the magic takes effect, allowing me to breathe. I push the water out, then back in. My lightheadedness disappears, and even though it feels uncomfortable, I’ve done this trick before.

It isn’t the first time someone has tried to drown me.

The effect will last a few minutes, at least, given that the entire vial has filled the bath and temporarily altered the water. I do a quick calculation in my head and pray that the train disembarks before then.

Maybe I can play dead long enough that they’ll abandon my body on the side of the tracks and I can simply walk away.

But I’ll be naked, and wet, and I have no idea where I am.

Pushing the concerns away, I concoct a flimsy plan that is quickly dashed when the train stops, and my body bobs.

My lungs start to burn. They’re taking too long to disembark.

And I’m still being held down as if the crazy girl who picked a fight with me wants to make sure I’m dead.

From what I know of court politics, I’ve seen this tactic before, just not played out so brutally.

When in a den of vipers, making an example will send a message, one that says “Don’t mess with me.”

It seems that ploy has been used here, except it wasn’t done with reputation-ruining gossip or a poisoned drink.

She targeted me because I’m the easiest kill, and the kill needs to be public for all her rivals to see.

Shit. Shit. Shit!

I take in a few more gulps of liquid air while the magic is still working. The bath is probably too large, so I won’t have very much time, unlike a few years ago when I last pulled this trick. My brother had dunked me under in our family’s small pond, holding me down too long because he was drunk.

Sofia’s screams dig into my heart as the crazy bitch gripping me pushes me deeper into the water, even though I stopped fighting what feels like ages ago.

Sofia thinks I’m dead.

Which, I realize, is the point, but now that rage I had unbottled seems to be seeping into the bath water to mix with my spent tonic.

I’m about to do something stupid, like open one of the tonics that will detonate a small explosion, when a muffled roar echoes through the car. Even from under the water, my entire body freezes with fear.

That has to be Godric.

If he’s angry, I can’t see anything as I close my eyes and continue to play dead. The magic has definitely almost worn off, because my lungs are burning and the urge to sputter out the water in them is nearly overwhelming, but I somehow keep it together.