Page 144 of Sharpest Court

I hadn’t been able to see a future as Erik’s prisoner, not because I didn’t have a future, but because that was not my future.

My future was in the deepening lines around my eyes, the gray streaking my hair as it had once threaded through my father’s. My future lived in the veins of the woman I had yet to become, the woman who would one day look back on this memory and command me to persevere, to fight, for her.

So I could not let my previous breath be my last.

My good arm ripped through the water, legs kicking against the current. Muscle memory took over, propelling me like a dart toward that frothing surface.

My face emerged into a blistering wind. I hacked out a mouthful of water and took a burning gasp. I barely glimpsed the beacon of land in the distance before I was dragged down again.

Violent panic sent me thrashing, the sunlit surface churning above.

My body convulsed with a sob as the world became muffled, quiet with the heaviness of mourning.

You must force yourself to relax. Trust your body to float.

I was bobbing in the waters of Claren Cove, my arms making wide ripples around me.

“What do you do if a current takes you?” Father asked. He hadn’t shaved for a few days, and his dark stubble made him look far too serious for this bright summer day.

“I swim against it,” I said, my voice young and happy. “I’m a strong swimmer.”

“No person is stronger than the current. Your body will tell you that you’re in danger, and its instinct will be to struggle. But some fights cannot be won through struggle. Some forces will only drag you down the more you rebel against them.”

I splashed my fingers defiantly. “So I let myself drown?”

“No. You must force yourself to relax. Trust your body to float, just as it is doing now.” Father paddled toward me, the sun creating a glowing halo around his face. “Remember, my girl: Panic will kill you faster than the water.”

A wave slammed my shoulders, and I jolted back to the present—to the freezing waters and the agony lancing through every limb.

I’d been tossed too far from land, and the cold was sapping my strength.

I could have fought Erik. I could have fought his guards. But I couldn’t fight the current.

So I stopped trying.

I forced my muscles to relax. And all the energy I’d been putting into my limbs, I now directed toward keeping my face above the water.

The waves rushed around my body, shoving me like a buoy on the surface. Water lapped over my eyes, but my mouth and nose remained chapping in the open air.

Through blurred vision, I saw my father’s smiling face, framed in that corona of sunshine, and it was like coming home.

Death was not peaceful.

It was scalding lungs and peeling skin and the pressure of heavy hands bearing down-down-down on my chest in an agonizing rhythm.

Water erupted from my throat, and the pressure eased. Then those hands were rolling me, thumping on my back.

A deep, consoling voice sounded from above. “I have you. I have you.”

My lashes fluttered open and I saw pale skin, a blond head gleaming in the sun. I began shaking, shaking, sinking—

Death had cold fingers and pale, fraught eyes. He forced sharp pins into my skin and murmured words of reassurance. When I tried to squirm away, the cool bands of his specter pressed me down.

“You must stay still if I’m to ease your pain.” His voice had aged, but it was as gentle as ever.

Those cold hands ran along my stomach, and a painful sob broke out of me. I had to get those hands away, but the more I wriggled, the firmer—and more forceful—his power became. My breathing grew sharper, shallower—

“Don’t do that,” someone snapped. A deeper, familiar voice, ragged with its own kind of pain.