Page 110 of Vale of Dreams

“They’re aiming at Ysolde!” Raphael shouts.

My blood roars. They must’ve realized that Ysolde is using magic to steer us in the wild river. If she dies, we all die. While she’s managing the magical energy of the water in a trance state, Ysolde can’t duck for protection like I can.

Another arrow misses Ysolde by a hair. Raphael scrambles to his feet, the boat rocking dangerously.

“What are you doing? You’ll tip us over!” I shout.

He grabs his bench and pulls, gritting his teeth. With a sickening wooden crack, the bench snaps free in his hand. He crawls over to Ysolde with the plank and holds it in front of her, shielding her from the arrows.

Two more fly at Ysolde and Raphael. One hits the shield, the other sinks into his shoulder. Blood pours down his arm. A third arrow flies at me, whistling over my head.

I glare at the archers. We’ve gone too far to die now. I pick up my bow and grab an arrow from the quiver, then take aim and fire. As we rock in the rapids, it should be impossible to properly shoot an arrow. When it finds its mark, I let out a gasp of surprise. One of the riders topples from his horse, an arrow in his side. His mount veers off course—right in front of one of the other horses.

Here, surrounded by water humming with magic, power vibrates within me. But it’s not just my own. The ancient, dormant power of the Lady of the Lake has risen to the surface.

An arrow zings toward me. I stare at it. Time slows, and the arrow seems to be crawling through the air. I shift aside, and it whistles harmlessly by me. With a dark smile, I shoot another arrow, and it hits its mark.

Three soldiers down. Four to go.

“Nia! Look ahead!” Raphael shouts.

I twist around and let out a curse. Directly ahead of us, an enormous rapid roars. I drop the bow, grab my oar, and start paddling, though I’m not even sure where to. The boat tips into the rapid and dives, churning water filling it. As we’re slamming against a rock, the boat turns sideways and becomes trapped in the frothing rapid, unable to break free. I try to push us away with the oar, and it snaps from my hand. The river devours it like a hungry beast.

Two more arrows thunk into the side of the boat. The four soldiers have halted their horses, and they’re taking careful aim. We’re no longer moving, and this time, they won’t miss.

I grab my bow, my movement lightning fast. I fire another arrow, and one of them topples from his horse, an arrow in his neck. Dead before he has time to scream. The three others let their arrows loose. Two fly at Ysolde and Raphael, both hitting Raphael’s shield. The third arrow flies at me. Again, time slows, and I lower my head as the arrow speeds by.

Another well-aimed arrow flies directly at Ysolde. Raphael moves his makeshift shield just in time, and the arrow hits the plank.

The boat is quickly filling with water, and we’re still trapped, slamming against a rock. At this point, we have mere seconds before we sink.

I scramble on the boat’s floor and grab an oar. Roaring with fury, I sink it into the water. I feel the unyielding power of the turbulence that traps us and push against it with all my strength. The oar bends in my hands, creaking, and I snarl at it, willing it not to snap. And then, with a joint push from my oar and Ysolde’s magic, we break free, hurtling down the river, arrows flying in our wake.

I look back as the riders are left behind, unable to catch up with us.

But the river is hungry now, and it demands payment. The water rages, and we hold on for dear life as the side of the boat tips and rises, then plunges down, down, down beneath the cold surface.

I hold my breath as the icy river swallows me. I don’t know up from down. Under the water, my head slams against something hard, and the world floats away.

CHAPTER 41

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The words, spoken in a Scottish accent, float into my mind, and my eyes flutter open.

I’m alive, my teeth chattering wildly. This, in itself, is a miracle. I’m soaked in freezing water, but I’m breathing.

Someone must have pulled me back into the boat because I’m lying on its cold, wet bottom. Somehow, the boat has stayed mostly intact.

I sit up to see Raphael and Ysolde still on the boat as well. They’re trying to catch their breath, and they’re drenched and shivering. Raphael’s sleeve is crimson with blood, though he pulled the arrows out. Ysolde is deathly pale, with an almost blue tinge to her skin. I suspect she’s the only reason we survived the last leg of our boat ride.

Raphael glances at me. “You’re back. I had to drag you out of the river, Nia. The water wanted to keep you, and can you blame it?” A little smile. “We’re safe now.”

We’re pulled onto the bank by a burly guy in military overalls. A group of men in similar garb stand nearby, shouting contradictory instructions in different languages, some with accents that are clearly French, others that sound English.

A bunch of men bossing one another around in makeshift Esperanto? This has to be the allied military. I nearly weep with relief. We’ve made it.

As we’re pulled ashore, one man offers me a chivalrous hand, which I’m grateful to accept. I carefully step out of the boat, and it takes all of my strength to remain on my feet.

They stare warily at my pointed ears. “Those are proper Fey ears, aren’t they?”

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