Page 65 of I Summon the Sea

Go, I say without a sound,go and come back later.

She looks uncertain. “Are you sure? I’ll have to look for available gowns in your size. Hopefully, I can find some we can modify for you.”

I nod enthusiastically.Yes. Go. Go!

Shooting me a faint smile, she goes away at last, and I peer around the doorjamb, starting when I find Arkin there.

He’s standing with his back to the wall, arms folded over his chest. He nods at me, eyes sparkling.

I frown.

“My lady,” he says, and I all but slam the door shut again, stepping backward inside the room.

I just need a moment. This is all wrong. I’m not supposed to have guards outside my door and people fussing over me. I’m not supposed to be still standing on two feet, on solid ground, breathing air.

Not to forget, I’m no lady, not anymore. I’m a fighter. And I need to find my focus and prepare for my battle.

The siren song of the tub is irresistible, though, and I wander back to it. Hypnotized, I stare at the clear water. A complex herbal perfume floats in the air. Lavender. Rosemary. Roses. Daria must have added aromatic oils.

Letting the robe fall off me, I walk to the tub and skim my hand over the water’s surface. Ihadto send her away. Ihadto bathe alone, hoping to immerse myself in the water in a last-ditch attempt to reverse the spell.

Yet as I bow over the steaming water and see my pale, human face in its mirror, I somehow know that this is hopeless.

Placing one foot inside the tub, then the other, I lower myself, sinking into the warmth, welcoming the feeling of weightlessness. I shiver when the heat hits the small of my back, where my birthmark is. I swear I feel it like pins and needles.

I lean back, and my body floats, pale and filthy, dirt coming off my skin in brown clouds, blurring the crystalline water. The gashes on my legs, self-inflicted for my damsel-in-distress role, are healing nicely. Every cut and bruise burns pleasantly.

Closing my eyes, gripping the edges of the bronze tub, I search for the feel of the spellwork, for the actual bubble of the spell deep inside of me. I had sensed it entering me, wiggling into me like a worm, spreading and sealing off my magic. It should be gone, I should feel my own power filling me, but…

But I can’t. My magic is still unreachable. In its place sits the spell, like an animal wrapped around me, forcing me to stay in this form, keeping me human and mute and magicless.

This spell has to let go; it needs to unhook its claws from me.

Cease, I think.Leave. Release me!

I grimace as I poke at the spell, trying to shift it with my mind. It’s a physical thing of sorts, as much as my magic is physical—a flow, an energy, a thing living inside of me. It’s a part of me, as much as my blood and flesh and bones are.

But even as I pant and shake, my legs kicking in the warm water, nothing happens, no change I can detect in me. The spell is still wrapped around me. My magic is imprisoned, isolated. Taken from me.

Screaming silently, I slip underwater, tugging at my long hair, welcoming the pressure of the water over my eyelids, its feel inside my open mouth.

Seeking to sink and forget.

Then, hands clamp down on my arms and yank.

Not expecting it, I don’t resist when they haul me to the surface. Spitting out the water, I drew a shuddering breath and another.

A girl’s pale face comes into focus, her dark eyes round as saucers. “My lady. What happened? Are you well? Did you slip? I should never have left you alone to bathe! If anything should have happened to you…”

My chest aches. I’m still sucking in sweet air as I squint at Daria, her words and panic taking a long moment to sink in. Of course. If something happened to me, then she would be blamed for it.

It shouldn’t be my problem. I’m here for a reason and I was trying to find a solution, but the fear in her doe eyes does something to me.

I’m fine, I mouth. Not true, but I will have to be, not only for her sake but for mine.

“You didn’t scrub yourself,” she scolds me, the fear lingering in her gaze. “Please, let me do this for you, my lady.”

Taking my lack of reaction for agreement, she gets to work. Grabbing a huge sponge and a bar of scented soap, she proceeds to scrub every part of me, enveloping me in the perfume of roses and lavender. She is mindful of the scrapes and cuts and the still-healing snake bite, though the rest of my skin burns hot from all the rubbing.

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