Page 135 of Spoils of war
“I’m sorry for the past few days, weeks,” he said, and his hand drifted away from my face. “It wasn’t you. I’ve just been… stuck in my own head. Everything hit harder than I thought. And I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you did something wrong.”
I let the water carry me back a little, just enough to breathe. My arms moved slowly to stay afloat.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “I get it. I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving them. I didn’t even know how to move at first. How to get up in the morning when it wasn’t for them. But now…” I glanced over at him. “There’s you. And Aran. And Licia needs us. And I feel like I have purpose again.”
Will shifted closer, his hand brushing against mine beneath the surface.
“You don’t know how worried we were, Kera. I could barely sleep, when you just lying there.” His voice cracked. “It hurt to see you like that. To know I couldn’t protect you. Again. I’ve been thanking the gods every day since you woke.”
I gave a small laugh. “You don’t even believe in the gods.”
“I know,” he said softly. “But they gave you back to me.” His eyes found mine. “And you’re my reason to keep moving, too.”
His warmth brushed against mine, light glinting off the water between us. A quiet pull stirred in the air, and he looked at me like I was something divine. I didn’t know what it was, but in that moment, it felt like the world had stilled around us.
I leaned in without meaning to. The glow beneath my skin softened, dimming but not fading, as if it was listening.
Then the moment shattered. Aran’s scream tore across the water, sharp and panicked, ricocheting off the cave walls.
“Aran!” Will shouted, his voice cracking.
He was getting really bad at pretending that he didn’t care about him anymore. I kicked hard, muscles burning as we rushed toward the sound. Aran thrashed ahead, wild-eyed, arms lashing the water as he gasped and choked.
“Something grabbed me!” His voice broke. “Something fucking grabbed me!”
A chill rolled through me. It coiled low in my stomach and crawled up my spine, heavy and thick like it had been waiting beneath us this whole time.
Will reached him first, hands steady on Aran’s shoulders.
“Hey. Breathe. It was probably seaweed.”
Aran’s eyes darted around, wild and unfocused, chest still heaving.
“No. No way. It pulled me down.”
“Seaweed,” Will said again, calm as ever. “Or maybe a fish.”
I swam in closer, scanning him quickly.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” His jaw tightened. “But I’m done.”
He swam off, cutting through the water like he couldn’t get away fast enough.
“Is he serious?” Will asked, laughing as Aran shot toward the exit.
“Say what you want—he’s fast.”
I glanced down at my arms, expecting the glow. But there was nothing. No shimmer. No warmth. Just skin. Pale, damp, ordinary.
It felt strange.
And I almost missed it.
Will nudged my shoulder. “Race you.”
Up ahead, Aran was dragging himself out of the water, muttering curses as he yanked a length of seaweed from around his leg.
