Page 49 of Not Another Happily Ever After

I let my gaze linger over the water’s glassy edge one last time before turning away, when Frog’s words stop me in my tracks.

“Did your fathers journal tell you that it was man who stole the flowers and pried them open with their greed?”

I turn, unsure if this is a jest. “No? Twas anaccuraterecounting of history’s events. The curse killed the Sirens and the flowers all withered to the bottom upon their death.”

Frog looks down, silent as the dark water laps against his boots. “The curse is powerful. But it is nothing compared to the cruelty of man.”

The cruelty of man.

My jaw slackens as I fall back into a room filled with cruel men who stood saint-like next to me.

The memory of that night is more than I can bear.

I can’t breathe.

Frog turns at the sound of my quick, rapid breaths, his eyes narrowing on the too fast rise and fall of my chest. “Miss Sunday?”

I try to seal my eyes against the memory of just how cruel the world can be.How cruel I can be.

But it’s too much.

There’s too much.

It’s everywhere.

“Miss Sunday!”

I shirk off Frog’s gentle touch, pushing his hand away from mine. “Blood. There’s blood on my hands,” I pant, rubbing against the stain forever buried beneath the surface of my flesh.

“I need to get it off. I have to get it off.”

Frog’s gaze flickers toward the water, his brows lifting as he realizes what I’m about to do. “Stay with me, Miss Sunday. Please, don’t.” He shakes his head, lifting his hand to try and stop me, but I’m already out of reach, wading into the murky water.

I tear the string of my cloak free, letting it fall to the wayside as cool waves wash against my skirts. But it’s not enough.

“Miss Sunday,please.” Frog lowers his tone, keeping his steps light as he follows me in.

I ignore him, not caring that I’ve lost my slippers to the muddy bottom or that my once glittering gown is now floating in thick, brown water. Already, my head feels lighter. And when a gentle ripple sends a rose bud floating my way, I step in even deeper, breathing out the air I had been holding as I watch dew drops race down its petals.

“There’s nothing in here that can hurt me,” I utter, petting the roses soft petals. “I’ve been immune to death’s touch for years.”

The water stills behind me as Frog comes to a stop just a few feet behind me. But it isn’t my display of unnatural abilities that has rendered him silent, I realize as I follow his gaze toward the center of the plunge pool. It’s the large razor edged fin racing toward us.

Toward me.

My mouth opens in a scream but is instead filled with bitter, flat water as I’m yanked below the surface.

Chapter

19

The plan has become frighteningly simple:

She keeps breathing.

I endure the rest.

“Miss Sunday!” Frog yells, diving in after me. But whatever has a hold on me is moving fast, pulling me further and further away from the knight. Until, finally, the rubbery grip lets go, leaving me to float somewhere near the bottom.