Page 72 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
I should have hated it. Should have fought him, plotted escape, maintained the fury that had driven me into the forest that night. Instead, I was beginning to crave his touch, to anticipate the nights with a hunger that shamed me. This man was my enemy, a monster who had stolen me from my mates, from my life. Yet, in the dark, when his body was pressed against mine, he was the only solid thing in a world that had dissolved into chaos.
"Sythara falls from veridian," he said now, gesturing at the rain with one tattooed hand. His Common was improving daily, though he still struggled with complex phrases.
"Yes," I agreed. "Water falls from the sky. We say 'it is raining.'"
"Rain-ing," he repeated carefully, the unfamiliar syllable clumsy on his tongue. "This rain-ing makes walking... bad?"
"Dangerous," I corrected. "The rain makes walking dangerous."
"Dan-ger-ous." He tested the word, then nodded with satisfaction. "Yes. Dangerous."
Our conversations had become a daily lesson in language exchange, though I'd noticed he was far quicker to pick up Common words than I was with Talfen ones. Sometimes I caught him using phrases that were too complex for someone supposedly learning from scratch, but when I questioned him about it, he would give me that unreadable look and change the subject.
There were so many things he wouldn't talk about. Where we were going, why he'd taken me, what his plans were for when wearrived. Any question that touched on his past or his intentions was met with silence or a distraction—usually of the physical variety that left me too breathless to remember what I'd asked.
But in the small things, the daily exchanges that made up our strange journey, he was becoming almost... companionable. He would point out interesting plants and teach me their names. When I stumbled, he would catch me with gentle hands and a soft word of reassurance. At night, when he held me close, I could feel some tension leave his powerful frame, as if my presence brought him the same strange peace it was beginning to bring me.
The path ahead grew narrower still, hugging the mountainside until it was little more than a slick ribbon of rock with a sheer, terrifying drop into the mist-filled valley below. A torrent of water, a newborn waterfall created by the storm, cascaded over the track, making it impassable. He stopped, his body a solid wall in front of me. "No," he said, his voice a low rumble against the roar of the water. He pointed toward a dark opening in the rock face a few feet away, a shallow cave barely large enough for two people. "We wait here." I nodded, too cold and miserable to argue. He untied the leather cord from his wrist, leaving the loop around my neck, and guided me into the alcove. It was cramped and smelled of damp earth, but it was blessedly out of the wind and rain. He shrugged off his own cloak, its black feathers shedding water like a dragon’s scales, and draped it over my shoulders, adding its weight and warmth to the one I already wore. The sudden heat was a shock. Without conscious thought, I sagged back against him, my shivering body seeking his solid strength. His arms came around me, pulling me tight against his chest. It wasn’t a prelude to the furious claiming I’d grown accustomed to; it was a simple, protective gesture, a shield against the storm. The intimacy of it, devoid of lust, wasmore disarming than any kiss, and I hated the traitorous part of me that melted into his hold.
It was deeply unsettling, this gradual erosion of my resistance. I should be planning escape, not learning to find comfort in my captor's arms. But something about this man called to a part of me I didn't fully understand—a recognition that went deeper than logic or self-preservation.
He held me until the rain eased, warming my body with his own, then we started out again. We had travelled a little way downriver, then he paused.
"There," he said suddenly, pointing ahead through the grey curtain of mist. "Bridge."
I squinted through the downpour and saw what he meant. A stone bridge spanned the rushing torrent of what had probably been a gentle stream before the recent rains. But the water level had risen so high that it was flowing over the bridge's surface, turning the crossing into a submerged path through the current.
"That doesn't look safe," I said, raising my voice to be heard over the roar of the water.
He studied the crossing for a long moment, his face unreadable. "Other way is..." He gestured vaguely at the steep cliffs that rose on either side of the gorge. "Many days. No shelter."
In other words, we were going across whether it looked safe or not.
He approached the edge of the bridge carefully, testing each stone with his weight before committing to the step. The water rushed over his boots, nearly to his knees in the deepest parts, but the ancient stonework held firm beneath the torrent.
"Stay close," he commanded, reaching back to check that the leather cord connecting us was secure around his wrist. "Hold to me if need."
I followed him onto the submerged bridge, immediately feeling the shocking cold of the mountain runoff seep through my boots. The current was stronger than it looked, pushing against my legs with insistent force that made each step an effort. The stones beneath were slick with moss and debris, treacherous even in the best of conditions.
Halfway across, I began to understand why he'd been so cautious. The water was deeper here, reaching nearly to my waist, and the current seemed to have a malevolent intelligence as it sought every opportunity to unbalance me. My foot slipped on something—a loose stone, a patch of particularly slimy moss—and I felt myself beginning to fall.
His hand shot out to steady me, his grip iron-strong on my arm. "Careful, aeveth," he said, his voice tight with concern. "Almost across."
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and forced myself to concentrate on each step. The far bank seemed impossibly distant, though it couldn't have been more than a few yards away. Another step. Another. The water swirled around my legs, trying to sweep my feet out from under me, but I held firm.
That's when the stone shifted.
The ancient mortar had probably been weakened by days of this rushing water, the joints between the massive blocks gradually eroded until they could no longer hold. I felt the stone beneath my right foot drop away with a grinding sound that was audible even over the roar of the current, and suddenly there was nothing solid beneath me.
The water caught me immediately, its icy grip closing around my body as it swept me off the crumbling bridge. I had one terrifying glimpse of his face, his white eyes wide with shock, before the current claimed me.
The leather cord around my throat went taut and I felt the jerk as it caught him off balance. Then either the knot at his wristfailed or he deliberately released it, because suddenly I was free, tumbling through the rushing water with nothing to anchor me to safety.
The cold was a shock that drove the air from my lungs, and when I tried to gasp I got a mouthful of muddy water instead. The current was unbelievably powerful, spinning me like a leaf as it carried me downstream toward gods knew what. I caught a glimpse of rock walls flashing past, heard the distant sound of my captor shouting my name—or at least, the name he'd given me—but then the water closed over my head and everything became a chaotic tumble of white foam and crushing pressure.
My head slammed against a rock, and the world exploded in a silent flash of white light. I was a rag doll in the river’s merciless grip, tumbling end over end, the waterlogged cloak a leaden weight pulling me down. My lungs burned for air I couldn't find. Panic was a wild animal clawing at my throat from the inside. I fought, kicking against the current, my arms flailing for purchase on something, anything, solid.
Just as my vision began to dim, my hand snagged on a splintered branch. Hope surged through me, raw and desperate. I clung to the rough bark of a massive, uprooted tree that had been swept into the gorge, its roots a tangled mess reaching for a sky I couldn't see. I hauled my head above the churning surface, gasping, coughing up a lungful of gritty water, my fingers raw and numb as I clung on, my body streaming behind me like a banner in the current. Then the current caught my body again, pulling me away from the life-saving trunk. But something held me fast. The leather thong. It had snagged on a jutting fork of a branch, and as the river dragged my weight downstream, the cord bit deep into my neck. The pressure was immediate, absolute.
