Page 40 of Dare

“Your wisdom chased me to an invisible realm, and now you’re trapped here, and you still haven’t caught me.”

“This is not an invisible rainforest,” I growled. “This is nothing but an undisclosed landmass Summer has evidently kept to itself. A fool’s paradise. And you’re nothing but a filthy, mad plague—”

“I’m not a plague!”

“—who got us here by accident.” I leaned forward until the bonds strained, threatening to cut off my circulation. “And you are a plague, which means you do not count. You’re extraneous. A virus we’re forced to deal with.”

“The Seasons are divinities, but they don’t judge me. Their courts do. Their people do. You can’t say nature didn’t make me. It did, like everyone else!”

“A miscalculation on its part,” I dismissed.

She pointed at the sea. “I’m of Summer. I know this ocean.”

“Then you should have done me a favor and drowned in it.”

“Make up your mind! You wanted to catch me or wanted me to drown. Which is it?”

“You forgot about Autumn’s dungeon, where I wanted you punished for the vial. Then in Summer’s tower, where I wanted you to choke and kneel.”

“Monster!”

“I’m not the one who’s collared around the neck.”

Renewed fury contracted my muscles, this time directed at the dead guard I’d whittled down to a fucking skeleton after learning he was the one who inked her.

Distracted by the memory, I missed whenever she ranted. “What did you say?”

“I said, I hate you! I hate that you chased me, I hate that you followed me, I hate that you’re here. I hate everything about you!”

“That’s treason.”

“And I hate your people. I hate Winter and its rulers.”

I drew out the words. “Think twice before speaking, Little Beast.”

“Two times, I saved your worthless life.”

“Extricating me from a crash and a whirlpool had nothing to do with generosity. It was instinct because at some point, you might need me to rescue you back.”

“You wouldn’t know how. You couldn’t even save yourself in the whirlpool.”

“How did you expect me to do that?”

“All you needed to do was let go and stop moving. If you had, I would have pulled you up sooner. You were flopping about like a fish, but when you stopped, the water …” Her eyes glazed over, awareness gripping her. “The water let you go.”

“It let me go,” I repeated slowly.

The female scowled. “I saw it.”

She made it sound as if the water had consciously made that choice. While most people in The Dark Seasons would entertain this theory, I merely rolled my eyes. “I’m heavy. I’d been struggling. When I stopped struggling, the weight eased. There’s no other reason.”

“You want to know if I’m right? Jump back in and see. The rainforest doesn’t need to give you a reason. You have to trust it.”

“If I wish to learn about something, I conduct a test. I don’t evaluate deadly undercurrents by diving into their depths. Instead, I toss in something expendable.” My mouth slanted. “That’s what fools are for.”

Coldness and apathy were acceptable. Heckling for no methodical reason was not. It wasn’t the proper technique in which a physician handled a fool. So why the fuck couldn’t I contain myself around her? The spitfire needed only to glare with those volcanic eyes, and I reacted. Seasons be damned, but I enjoyed her anger to the point of obsession.

Seething, she veered toward the water. In that tidefarer, she had steered with quick motions and focused on the horizon. She’d navigated from Summer with zealous determination. One might go so far as to say with knowledge and expectation.

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