Page 57 of This Vicious Dream

Calysian whirls, his lip curled as he watches the soldiers. From within the ranks of Kyldare’s regiment, a bolt flies toward us, unnaturally fast, its path bending ever so slightly, as if guided by an unseen force. Calysian raises his hand and his ward appears, a glimmering silver wall.

The bolt travels directly through the ward. As if it’s not there.

Calysian shoves me down, moving with unnatural grace as his body shifts left.

I hit the ground, and the bolt slices into his neck, grazing his skin but not penetrating deeply. He lets out a low growl, seemingly unbothered, his body taut with readiness. And then his eyes roll up, his legs buckle, and he crumples backward, falling like a stone into the water below us with a heavy splash.

Eamonn lets out a shriek.

My eyes meet Kyldare’s. Even from here I can see his teeth bared in a grin as he points toward us. His soldiers charge up the coastline.

Ripping my gaze away, I wait for Calysian to surface. But he’s slipping deeper, the rippling surface of the lake closing over him. My heart thunders in my chest.

“What happened?” I demand.

“I don’t know,” Eamonn shrieks. “But he’s sinking.”

It doesn’t make sense. Calysian isn’t just strong—he’s frighteningly difficult to kill. It would take a lot more than a scratch with an iron arrow to bring him down. And yet he’s being dragged into the depths as though the lake itself has claimed him.

It can’t have him.

Eamonn swoops close to the surface of the water. “He’s drowning!”

I kick off my boots. “Perhaps if you squawk some more, you’ll annoy him into regaining consciousness.”

Outraged silence.

With a sigh, I jump from the overhang and plunge into the freezing water.

Madinia

The sudden shock of frigid water hits me like a slap, the cold slicing into my skin like shards of ice. I let my body sink and then twist, arrowing down into the depths of the lake.

The sunlight fades as I dive, kicking my legs as my heartbeat pounds in my ears, frantic and insistent.

How long can Calysian last without air? My own lungs are already screaming at me, but I push deeper, scanning the murky gloom.

There.

Calysian’s hulking form is a dark shadow, drifting below me. His limbs hang limp, his head tilted back as though in surrender. Panic claws at my chest. He’s too still.

I kick harder, straining to reach him. When my hands find his shoulder, the solid feel of his muscle is almost startling.

I grab at the front of his tunic, my fingers numb and clumsy as I shake him.

He doesn’t move.

I tighten my grip, my nails digging into the fabric as I pull him toward me, twisting my body to face the surface. The effort is brutal. His weight drags at me, pulling me down, even as I kick with everything I have.

The cold seeps deeper, turning my limbs sluggish. My lungs are on fire, each second stretching unbearably as I clamp down on the urge to inhale. The surface is footspans away, impossibly far, unreachable.

Grinding my teeth, I kick harder.

The light grows brighter, fracturing into ribbons as I stretch toward the surface. My face breaks through and I gasp, my chest heaving as sweet, cool air floods my lungs. Hauling Calysian up, I turn him onto his back as his head lolls against my shoulder, his face pale and slack, his lips tinged blue.

“Wake up,” I choke out.

“There!” A voice calls, and cold terror shudders through me. Kyldare’s soldiers are on their way.

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