Page 35 of Artemysia
“Ivy, wake me up in an hour,” he calls out, covering his brow with a forearm as he shuts his eyes.
“Nope. You’re the meanest creature alive when someone tries to wake you up,” she hollers back, shaking her head where she stands in the middle of the stream. She’s peeled off her boots and socks, rolled up her breeches, and waded knee-deep into the water.
“Captain? Unless you want to ditch me on purpose.”
“Then who would bring all the lone-wolf energy to the group?” I ask. “We’d miss your sunshine and giggles.”
Throg edges beside me, handing me a wedge of bread and a boiled goose egg as I throw my head back for a sip of water from my canteen.
“We should just leave the infuriatingly handsome psychopath,” he says, gnawing off a piece of chewy bread as we watch Riev kick out his feet and cross them at the ankles.
A voice behind us cuts us off. “Oy, Colossus! Come look at the fucking beautiful rainbow fish here.” Ivy beckons Throg upstream to stand in the water with her.
“Fish? Let’s see, little demon.” He winks at me and happily obliges Ivy, trudging over to her. I settle onto a tree stump to peel my egg, offering the shell to my elk when she eventually wanders over and snuffles the back of my head.
An hour later, Ivy and Throg (with his shirt and pants back on) mount their elk while I weave around a large tree to find Riev. He’s in the midst of a dream, his fists clenched, muttering curses in his sleep. He kicks a leg out and swears he’s going to kill something, but his mumbling turns mostly to gibberish.
“Time to wake up,” I say, my voice flat, feeling silly that I have to wake a grown man from a nap in the middle ofthe day.
Who the heck takes naps but babies and the elderly?
He’s still lost in his violent dream, punching the air, twitching his legs, so I kick him in the side of the ribs with the inner heel of my boot. Just a poke.
Nothing.
“Riev,” I repeat, nudging him repeatedly with my foot before finally bending over to grip his shoulder.
I shake him once.
His eyes flick open, unfocused. With a terrifying roar, his arm shoots out, a strong hand crushing my windpipe.
My back slams down on the grass as I kick out at him. My boot connects with his stomach, but it’s like kicking a brick wall.
“What the hell?” I gasp, the words dying in my throat. My voice is barely audible as his fingers tighten their grip, closing off my air supply. He pins my legs with his knees and knocks away my attempts to punch him. His free hand comes down over my mouth.
His eyes flare wildly. They’re still vacant, and he’s not looking at me. He’s still asleep. Breath constricted, I fight the urge to thrash and struggle unnecessarily.Focus. In this vicious state, even trapped in his own dream, he wants a fight. His subconscious is so chaotic that violence rules him even in his sleep. I knee him one more time in the groin, hard enough that even Throg would cry, but it doesn’t even register. Just like when I fought him in the alleyway, he will fight until he has the upper hand.
I have seconds to think. If I keep struggling, he will only retaliate, especially in whatever dark state he’s lost his mind to right now. Strategically, I could break his wrist or jab him in the throat, and he might let go. Chances are he’d fight harder.
It’s a risk, but I calculate that this is a fight in which capitulation is my answer, and I surrender.
Going one step further, I curl my fingers over his on my neck and press down as if helping him to strangle me.
“You win. I’m not going to hurt you back,” I rasp out, gagging.
He still muffles my mouth. I have no idea if he understood or even heard me because his eyes are still glazed with that faraway look, but I do my best to relax.
My chest deflates, and the hand covering my mouth jerks away.
He still grips my throat, but when I soften, he does too, almost immediately. Not in the way that someone would do if they think they’re winning. If you’re strangling someone to death, and they begin to slacken, you make sure the job is done by clasping harder.
I know this because I’ve had to do it.
Even when sparks of white light invade my vision and I’m about to pass out, I let him win.
I reach up and brush his cheek softly with my knuckles as I would a scared child. “Wake up, Riev. It’s Delphine,” I croak.
Just as I give up hope that he can hear me, that I’ll need to break his wrist, his eyes blink out of their sinister haze and his palm releases from my neck.
