Page 19 of Godsbane
I brace for impact, but instead of crushing pain from a branch, a deluge of water knocks me further into the mud. Water pours down my face as I gasp for air, my head swimming as calloused hands pull me upward.
“Are you hurt?”
I can barely hear his muffled words for the liquid pooling in my ears. I shake my head to clear it, my eyes catching on a pile of ashes laying only inches from my muddy hole. Smoke still rises from where it burned only moments before.
Captain Murphy pulls a drenched rag from his pocket and begins to wipe the mud from my face, a well-intentioned gesture that only serves to smear the wet earth further.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
There’s an unmistakable anger in his voice. He probably thinks I’m an idiot, and I certainly feel like one right now.
“I was trying to save myself.”
My words are barely a whisper as the last dregs of my adrenaline from my near brush with death evaporate, leaving me shaking in his hands. Murphy pulls me tightly against his chest in an effort to stop the tremors that overtake me.
That rush of strange power floods my system again and I allow myself a moment of weakness. A single moment to crash into his depthless gray eyes, to drift carelessly in the endless pools of brackish water that stare back at me.
It’s a mistake. One that might very well cost me. Because right now, I barely have the strength to fight the pull of his riptide.
A droplet of water runs off the tip of his nose and lands on the center of my bottom lip. He reaches to swipe it away using thepad of his thumb and slowly pulls my lip down before letting his finger drag down my chin.
I suck in a ragged breath and feel the warmth in my veins ignite into a blaze. The heady rush of magic surges and the air grows thick with tension. Thunder cracks overhead again, breaking the spell. I step out of his hold and tighten the ties on my soaking cloak.
Murphy whistles and our horses rush to his side. “Try not to jump off this time, princess,” he says on a shaky breath as he hands me the reins.
I take them, careful not to touch him again. I’m still in fight-or-flight mode, maybe even more so now that the realization of my moment of weakness settles in. I can’t form words and I’m thankful for the icy chill that settles between us in their absence.
The sun has set by the time we finally arrive in Eida. Everything I own is drenched and my bones ache to be in front of a fire.
Even though it’s been hours, we haven’t spoken since the incident with the branch, and I’m not sure what I’ll say when we finally do. I should thank him for helping me, but I would have thought less of him if he didn’t. And I’m not sure I’ll be convincing enough yet to tell him that I don’t want him to ever touch me again.
I wait at the entrance to the small stable while Murphy gives detailed instructions to the groom. Water streams off theroof’s overhang and my hand instinctively comes out to touch it, creating four tiny rivulets that dance as I wiggle my fingers.
What would it be like to command it with my power? Water is necessary for the land to thrive, and while my magic may create blooms and invigorate plants, they cannot thrive without its sustaining force. But water can also be dangerous. A river looks quiet and peaceful at first, but given time it will erode deep valleys and canyons into the land. A simple rainstorm can turn into a flash flood sweeping away anything and anyone in its wake. Water is a delicate balance between life-giving and life-ending.
So are all the elements, really, and perhaps those who wield them are not dissimilar.
“Ready, princess?”
Murphy’s rough voice jolts me from my thoughts. My fingers are still intertwined with the water and I don’t miss the half-smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth when he notices.
“For dry clothes and a fire? Always.”
I grab my bag from his hand and bolt across the small yard that separates the stable from the inn.
The onslaught of the bright lights and warm air from inside the tavern is staggering. There’s an immediate welcoming ambience to this place. It’s crowded with people sharing drinks and laughing while folksy music lilts through the room. A large hearth roars in the corner with plush chairs pulled up to face it. Cozy booths line the remaining walls on both sides of the small dining room. There’s a happiness to this place that contrasts the dreariness of the storm raging outside.
A half door that must lead to the kitchen swings open, and a small, cheerful woman steps out carrying a large tray of steaming bowls. Her hair and skin are the color of pure snow, making the pink flush of her cheeks pop. Small wrinkles pull upat the corner of her eyes and her mouth, the only signs of her advanced age.
“Well aren’t you both a sight for sore eyes!” she exclaims, passing off the tray to the young man trailing behind her and wiping her hands on her apron. “Mikel, deliver these and then fetch some hot mead for our guests here.”
With a nod, the young man takes the tray and disappears to deliver the bowls.
“This storm is serious business and my old back tells me it's only going to get worse tonight. Always flares up when something bad is a’brewing, I tell ya. The name’s Mae and this is my place.”
“Hello, Mae. I’m?—”
“You need no introduction here, sweets.”
