Page 97 of Faerie Fate
I was going to drown. Again.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’d always thought eagle feathers were water resistant.
Bald eagles dove into water for fish to eat, didn’t they? I guess it didn’t count when you were fully submerged for too long. With adrenaline surging through my veins and my lungs burning, I reached for my magic.
Come on!
I couldn’t drown now. Not when there was so much more to lose this time.
My power slipped away from me, funneled against my will into keeping me from sinking. I needed to change, shift into something able to breathe underwater. Otherwise it was all for nothing.
My beak opened, the cry lost in the bubbling rapids, then Mike was there. He grabbed me roughly by the neck, his fingers sinking through my feathers to my spine as he pulled me up to the surface.
The pixies had already cut one of the longboats from its moorings, sending it into motion away from the shore with ablast from their morsana-infused tools. The second longboat was filling rapidly.
“Come aboard! Everyone, aboard!” The last calls for departure screamed out from their tiny lungs.
“We go!” Elfhame flew above the rest and her glow was a beacon in the dark.
So tired. When would I not be tired? When would my lungs stop burning and I take a step without suffering?
Mike dragged me underneath his arm, my head directly beside his and my wings all but useless. I let him.
“You are not going to die on me.” He grunted, cutting through the rapids against the currents. “No one is going to fucking die today.”
His voice sounded beside my ear and his strong legs kicked, his free arm slicing through little white-capped whirlpools. But right then, I had to admit, dying didn’t seem so bad.
Mike managed to get us to the boat and dropped me over the side. I hit the bottom hard just as he pulled up behind me, rolling to avoid my claws. Water jetted up my throat.
“Damn it, Tavi, breathe!”
Bronwen and Poppy rushed forward to help, Bronwen back in her human form and me stuck as a sodden bird.
Why was I so bad at this? Why could I not manage the simplest things, especially without the excuse of the gypsy curse? Here in the past, I was free from that ailment, and I still couldn’t manage to shift.
Was unlocking my witch powers even going to do anything?
Adrenaline continued to rush through me, dragging every terrible feeling I’d ever had about myself up to the surface.
“Can you change?” Bronwen asked.
I blinked at her, incapable of speech.
“What’s the matter with her?” Mike loomed over me. “Why isn’t she turning back into a human?”
“She saved your life. Took a toll,” Poppy barked out. She forced me to look at her, holding my face in her hands, and her magic brushed against me. “She still hasn’t completely recovered from the gun thing. The pieces of her soul are together but it’s like any cut. You move too much, it reopens.”
Was I really weak because of what happened with the gun?Fuck. I’d made a huge and horrible mistake there and I was still paying for it. No matter how hard I worked on this or how often I practiced, I couldn’t learn enough to be good enough.
The boat sluiced down the river, nature carrying us away. I lay on my back, chest rising and falling and my feathers fluttering slightly with the movement. A tremor racked through me.
“Here. This will help her.” Elfhame fluttered closer and held out a hard cake. “Go on. Eat.”
I managed to take the cake in my beak and crunch down. It tasted like morsana flowers, the same sweetness as the brownie. Elfhame perched on Poppy’s shoulder and watched as I gulped down several bites of the cake before letting the rest drop away.
The morsana worked fast. Where adrenaline raged in me before, the morsana smoothed over those sensations, like fresh snow over a well-worn trail.
