Page 80 of This Vicious Dream

You promised yourself it was one night. And you wouldn’t get attached.

Blowing out a breath, I survey the ground. It’s little more than patches of earth floating on the water’s surface, islands of tangled roots and grass that we’ll need to somehow navigate with the horses.

Already, I’m questioning Fliora’s advice.

Calysian takes Fox’s lead rope. His back is straight, his shoulders tense, his jaw tight. “We should continue moving.”

“Fine.”

I follow after him, keeping a wary eye on the gnarled trees that rise from the water, their trunks split and broken. The buzzing of insects makes me shudder, but the fly that swoops past is a plain black color, not the silver and blue of the Sorrowflies.

We walk for hours, Calysian turning unerringly toward the grimoire at each fork in the trail. The air is thick and suffocating, soaking our clothes and making each breath an effort. Hope stumbles as the ground shifts beneath us, and I murmur soft words that do little to calm her.

Calysian points ahead, where the path narrows into a raised strip of land, no wider than a horse’s body. Trees crowd too close on either side, roots tangled into the mud below. If we step wrong here, we’ll fall straight into the water.

And I’m exceedingly aware of the serpent that lies in wait somewhere in this swamp.

Eventually, we have no choice but to lead the horses through hip-deep water. “Come on girl,” I say, and Hope throws her head, but continues walking as the water ripples around her legs.

Calysian guides Fox ahead, the water rising to the horse’s chest, his dark coat slick and gleaming. The water is colder than I expected when I move deeper, seeping into my boots and clinging to my legs. The hum of insects fades, replaced by silence.

It’s an anticipatory silence. A silence that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

The water ripples to my left, a slow deliberate movement that makes my teeth clench as sparks fly from my hands. But my power is useless here.

This water-logged path is endless. And already, I can feel that same, primal power from the last time we were hunted in this swamp. The serpent has found us.

Hope snorts, jerking backwards and tearing her lead rope from my hand. She thrashes, her hooves sending waves rippling outward, and I lunge for the rope, holding it tight.

“I’ll take her.” Calysian is at my side before I realize he’s moved. “Take Fox.”

I’m prepared for a kick or a bite, but surprisingly, Calysian’s horse doesn’t play any of his usual games. He cooperates, surging forward as a different power slices toward us. Not the primal power of the serpent. This is something else. Something familiar. I brace myself, but it isn’t aimed at me.

It flows into Calysian.

And his eyes turn black.

The grimoire.

When the water ripples once more, he waves one hand, sending something dark and vicious toward the serpent.

The long, sinewy shape thrashes, then disappears into the depths of the water.

A muscle jumps in Calysian’s jaw. Clearly, it’s not dead.

“It’s hunting us,” I say, keeping a careful eye on the man at my side. He’s connected to his grimoire—enough that it allowed him to attack the serpent.

“Yes.”

We make it across the water to the comforting stability of a muddy path. Calysian’s eyes are still black, and he slowly turns his head, as if he can feel my gaze on him.

“Are you scared of me now?”

I swallow, my throat dry. “No.”

He shakes his head at me. “You know who I am. You’ve always known.”

It’sCalysian’svoice,Calysian’sglower, and yet I still shiver. I did everything I could to protect the grimoire, and now here I am, about to hand that grimoire over to the dark god himself.

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