Page 96 of Wicked Tides
How did I know it was a dream?
I needed to wake up.
A large wave hit the beach, pushing a flood of water onto the sand until it reached my knees. I fought the current and moved further up, trying to see through the raging downpour.
“Vidar!”
Dahlia’s scream was shrill and full of distress. I spun around to see darkness so black it was like a curtain. From it emerged Dahlia in a pure white dress, her face twisted with panic. She rushed forward as if in retreat and crashed into me, clinging to my body like I was her only anchor. But as quickly as she reached me, she was torn away. Her body was yanked to the ground at my feet and suddenly dragged back toward the darkness. She cried out, clawing at the sand.
I sprinted after her. She reached out to me and I dove, barely brushing my fingers against hers before the darkness swallowed her like a hungry beast.
I woke with a jolt, nearly choking on my own breath. My room was around me again. The ship was rocking more noticeably as if the water had become angrier.
Something was wrong. Something I could feel in my chest like the pain of a thousand losses had suddenly bubbled to the surface again. And one loss was yet to come. I jumped up and rushed clumsily for my door, emerging on deck and into the night. Nothing seemed amiss. Nothing but the figure walking to the edge of the ship as if she meant to jump into the cold water.
“Dahlia,” I said.
She did not hear me. Or she did not care.
“Dahlia!” I called out.
The few men keeping a lookout turned at the sound of my voice as I headed toward her.
“Cap’n?” someone said.
The urgency was mine. No one else felt it.
Dahlia reached the railing and swung a leg over, absently moving her body toward the water.
“Stop her!”
My men were confused. Too confused to act. I rushed toward her as her feet left the ledge and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against me. Her body went rigid as I hoisted her back over the railing. I fell backward, grunting when her weight slammed into me. Suddenly she was flailing.
“Dahlia,” I said.
She was panting as she rolled over to get away. Only then did I see the knife in her hand. She spun toward me, straddling me as she raised it over my chest. I could hear my men pulling their blades and pistols.
“No!” Meridan screamed nearby.
“Don’t!” I ordered my men, reaching up to grab at both of Dahlia’s wrists.
She snarled as I tossed her to the side and restrained her beneath me. Meridan rushed in to pry the knife out of Dahlia’s hand and was quick to step away again, a look of shock on her pale face.
“Dahlia, wake up!” she screamed.
She craned her head to look up at her friend, tears shining in her eyes. “Meridan, please,” she begged.
“What’s happening?” I said.
“She cannot go in the water,” is all she managed to say before I’d had enough.
I stood, pulling Dahlia off the floor with one heave and tossing her over my shoulder.
“It is not her fault,” Meridan said after me as I hauled her down toward the hold. “Please, do not hurt her!”
“I will not hurt her.”
I arrived at the hold and took Dahlia inside, laying her down on the bedding she and Meridan had made up for themselves. When I looked back, Meridan was standing outside the gate, hesitant.
