I turn to Rowan and catch his face in my mud-streaked hands. “I’ll come back.” I kiss him, hard. “I promise I’ll come back to you.”
Silence closes out the world until there’s only me and themud and the opened path. Then I see him, way out beyond the shore, a sliver of pale mist against the dark.
The Lord Under. He stretches out a hand as he waits for me. He knew—he knew all along that I’d have to do this.
I wish I could refuse him. Forfeit our bargain and tell him that I’ll never, ever help. But there’s no other choice. The Corruption is laced through the whole world—earth, blood, heart, skin. It’s everywhere. And we will never be free—or safe—unless I mend it.
I get to my feet.
I go toward the lake.
I walk into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I’m in the lake. One step and I’m past my knees. Another, and I’m sunk to my waist. The water takes hold of me. It’s cold and cold and cold. Waves wash at my throat, then higher. The mud beneath my feet dissolves and the water closes over me, an icy shock. I’m pulled beneath the surface.
I want to go back to the shore and my garden. Back to the moment of moonlight where Rowan held me and I let myself forget the rest of the world.
I want to go back, but I can’t.
The Lord Under is suddenly beside me, a smear of mist and shadows in the water. He speaks to me, his voice soothing.Don’t fight it.
The lake floods my mouth, tasting of dead leaves and bitter tea. The pale glow of moonlight is gone. All is dark, even with my eyes open. Not the muted, marbled light of underwaterbut full dark. Fear closes in. My lungs burn and ache. I gasp, a rush of bubbles streaming from my mouth. Something brushes against my hair, my cheek. A tangle of lake grass, a piece of bone, the scrape of claws.
Don’t fight it, Violeta. Let the water claim you.
Colors bloom across my blackening vision: blossom pink, rain-cloud silver. The tether is still there. Stretched from me to Rowan, from me to the world Above. No matter how far I go, how dark it gets, I’ll always be tied to home.
I walked into the shadows. I came into the dark. I chose this, and I am not afraid.
I open my mouth. I let the water fill my lungs.
The world goes still. A terrible, lightless silence that seems to stretch forever. The mud is gone. The water is gone. I fall to the ground with a hard, bruising thud and curl over onto my side, coughing desperately as I drag in breath after breath of ice-laced air and ashen shadows. It’s so dark that I can’t see anything. I stretch out a hand and try to draw on my power. A faint heat flickers at my fingertips, but I’m too weak and numbed from my struggle against the Corruption.
I try again. Light flares, then scatters into sparks. Another light echoes in return, bright and brilliant. The Lord Under appears beside me. Shadows spill out around him, but at the center of the darkness he glows. Bone white, luminescent.
“Violeta.” He speaks my name like it tastes of honey. “My Violet in the woods.”
I try to get to my feet, struggling because my hair and dress and boots are heavy with water. I take a halting step, thenstumble forward. I brace myself, expecting to fall past him—through him—but instead I land heavily against his chest. His arms go around me, startled. For a breath I’m held.
He’s real. Solid and strong andreal.
“Oh—!” I stagger back in shock.
His mouth tilts into a curious smile. “How… unexpected.”
He closes the distance between us in a single stride and catches hold of my chin, tight. My breath comes loose in a gasp.He can touch me now.
His claws are cold and so very sharp. I try to shake myself free, but his claws dig in—not enough to pierce, but hard enough to pin me still, hard enough to drag a small, hurt whimper from my mouth. His eyes run over me, inspecting my knotted hair, my lake-drenched skirts. He scrapes his thumb against the blood beneath my nose, wiping it away.
Shadows—his shadows—rise around us.
I twist against his grip. I can feel the frostbitten burn of his touch as though his hands have traced all over my bare skin. My heartbeat echoes hollowly. The shadows spiral closer, winding around my ankles, my wrists, my throat.
“Let go of me!” I put my hands against his chest and shove him, hard.
He releases me and takes a smooth step back. I let my hands drop, then look down, realizing my hair and clothes are no longer wet. I touch my fingers to the streaks of now-dry mud on my skirts and try to shake off the rise of nausea and panic. I can still feel his magic slithering coldly through my entire body.
