Page 93 of Between Fear and Favor

One moment, I was gripping the mare’s mane in one hand and the reins in the other, squeezing my thighs as tight as I could to hold on to her. And in the next, there was a brief, loud, cracking sound, before we plunged into ice cold water. I didn’t even have time to scream as I fell from the horse. The water hit my chest, and it felt like a vise—squeezing and squeezing and forcing out any air I held within my lungs. A quick gasp was all I could manage before I went under.

It was dark—so dark and cold.

Thrashing, I managed to get my mouth above water for one last deep lungful of air before I slipped below the frigid water once more. Inanely, even as I fought for the surface, I grew angry at myself. Horses could swim, and I let go when it counted. A weakened human, muscles fatigued, could have stood a chance—if they knew how to swim. A strange calm took over me, and I was certain this would be the way I died.

Opening my eyes beneath the water, I glimpsed Petunia’s large body above me, and I wished she would’ve just kicked me in the head and made it quick.

But I didn’t want to die.

I fought, doing everything I could think of to push my way to the surface. It only made me sink faster. I could barely feel my limbs for the temperature, and my cloak billowed upward, making it so I couldn’t see.

My lungs were burning, and every instinct told me to gasp, to breathe deep.

I almost listened when something grabbed my wrist.

Someone.

Another hand slid beneath my arm, and, though I couldn’t see past the fabric lifting and floating around my face, a vision of Dewalt broke into my mind. It was reminiscent of the moment before he’d kissed me, forehead pressed to mine. I felt the ghost of his fingertips on my face as he spoke, his divinity a mere echo of his touch. If he was afraid, I couldn’t tell.

“I’ve got you. Can you kick your feet for me?”

I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right, my movements stunted by the numbness in my legs, but I attempted to do as he asked. My chest was aching, the last bit of air in my lungs unable to sustain me.

“Can’t breathe,” I said in his mind, my terror ebbing into the words.

He tried pushing at my cloak, tugging it down as he pulled me, but it just lifted and swirled around us, making it nearly impossible to move. He started fumbling at my throat, trying to unclasp it with one hand as he held onto me. Blackness pushed at the edges of my vision, but I wouldn’t let him drown too.

“Let me go,” I said, not about to let him die alongside me.

He ignored me, continuing to claw at my cloak. With fumbling fingertips, I reached for the clasp, pulling with the last of my strength. When it broke free, the cloak was still floating around us, and I wondered just how bad it would be—to give up. He’d have to let me go, wouldn’t he?

His hand slashed through the fabric, grabbing my neck and guiding my face to his.

Dewalt pressed his mouth over mine and blew. My lips popped open, and I inhaled on instinct as the air went into my lungs. It made me dizzy, but it bought me time.

I was so tired.

He wrapped my arms around his neck, and then he moved. Using his strong muscles, his hands cut through the water, reaching for the surface. I held on the best I could, not wanting him to stop his ascent because I’d failed him.

When we broke through, I gasped, taking in as much air as I could. Heaving breaths sawed in and out of me, bright spots flashing on the edge of my vision. My hair was wet and wild in my face, and Dewalt did his best, trying to brush it off my nose and out of the way. I choked, water splashing into my mouth as he kept us afloat.

“I’ve got you, songbird,” Dewalt said, rough and raw. He hauled me closer, grabbing my face with his hand. “I’ve got you, Nor. Breathe, love.” Even as I sputtered and coughed, he pressed a kiss to my temple. A soft sigh fell from his lips, and I wrapped my legs around him, his body pressed flush against me.

He’d saved me.

Dewalt adjusted my arm around him, tenderly, and yet I cried out in pain. My shoulder was so sore, and, in a panic, I searched for Petunia with wild eyes. “My pack,” I croaked. “The salve.” And when I didn’t see her, I started to cry. Great heaving sobs poured out of me, and I burrowed my face into Dewalt’s neck. I’d nearly died, and I wasn’t truly safe yet, but the loss of the only thing which brought any ease to my pain was what made me break.

“I’ve got it, Nor. Your pack is in the wagon, remember? But I put the salve in mine. I’ve got it,” he said against my ear as he pulled us through the water. Something like a moan ripped from my lungs—relief, hot and visceral. I tried to calm down after that, but by then it was too late. I couldn’t stop. I sniffled, holding onto him as tightly as I could until he gently detached my arms from his neck.

“Can you lift her?” Dickey’s voice made me choke on my tears, and my crying renewed. Between the two of them, I was out of the water within a moment. Hands braced on the ground, I coughed hard enough I was afraid I was going to vomit. When Dewalt hauled himself onto the ground beside me, a dull thunk made me realize we were on a wooden dock. I was furious; that wretched horse had jumped right off it into a frozen lake. But could I blame her? If I couldn’t tell it was water, neither could she.

“Come on. We have to get—” Dewalt’s voice cracked as his teeth began to chatter. “We have to get warm.” Hot tears rolled down my face, and they stung, making me whimper. When I didn’t move, Dewalt crouched in front of me, lifting a hand to my chin. “Did you know actual pigeons can’t swim either?”

I barked out a laugh of surprise, groaning over his joke and my pain and everything that had happened. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and drops of water trickled down his nose, but he grinned at me, and I smiled back. Both of us were alive and whole, and he’d saved me.

That sweet honeysuckle feeling which had taken root in my chest nearly spilled over, with words I couldn’t say blooming on my tongue.

“I-I don’t know if I can stand,” I said instead.

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