Chapter 381:

Caspian

It’s cold.

And dark.

I try to swim, but the waves are relentless. Each time I find the surface, another wave crashes over me, pushes me under, steals the air from my lungs. Again and again and again.

It hurts.

I gasp for air but my lungs burn, my throat burns, my eyes burn. I can barely keep them open. The salt stings. The rain stings. Everything stings.

No.

I kick. My boots are heavy. My coat is heavier. It drags me down like an anchor, like a chain, like a grave. With immense effort, I shrug it off.

The coat slips from my shoulders.

I feel lighter.

But not light enough.

I see tiny lights in the darkness. Lanterns, maybe. From the ship maybe, it’s blurry.

"I’m here!" I try to scream, but it comes out as a croak, swallowed by the wind, drowned by the waves.

The rain digs into my skin. Needles of ice, each one a reminder that I’m still alive, still fighting, still here.

I do my best to swim.

My arms move. My legs kick. I don’t know if I’m making progress. Don’t know if I’m going in circles. Don’t know if I’m sinking.

I’m not going to die like this.

No.

I refuse.

But.

I feel lightheaded.

The world spins. The water spins. I can’t tell which way is up, which way is down, which way is safe.

The water is pulling me. Shaking me. Tossing me like a doll in a storm. I try to fight, but my body won’t listen. My arms won’t move. My legs won’t kick.

This can’t be how it ends.

Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision.

The cold fades.

The pain fades.

Everything fades.

Then—

Something cold touches my lips.

Not water. Not rain. Something else.

Air.

Cold air, forced into my lungs, filling them, saving them.

I gasp.

My eyes fly open.

And I’m met with dark eyes and hair flowing in the water like silk.

What?

Dark eyes.Familiar somehow, though I know I’ve never seen them before.

Who came to save me?

Their face is not clear. The water blurs my vision. I can’t make out features, can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, can’t tell anything except that they’re here and I’m alive.

A hand closes around my wrist. Firm. Steady. Pulling me upward, toward the surface, with surprising strength.

The waves are relentless. They push me down. Drag me under. Toss me like a leaf in a storm.

But she pulls me unfazed.

She doesn’t struggle. Doesn’t falter. Doesn’t seem to notice the cold or the current or the chaos around us.

She just swims.

I reach the surface. Gasp. Take in a much-needed breath of air. My lungs burn. My throat burns. Everything burns.

It’s so dark.

She lets go of my hand.

I flail.

Panic surges through me—no, no, don’t leave me, don’t let go—but then I feel something beneath me. Wooden. Round. A barrel, maybe. Or a piece of the ship. Something to hold onto.

I grab it. Cling to it. Lean my weight on it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I hold on.

The rain still falls. The waves still crash. But I’m above water. I’m alive.

Lightning strikes.

The sky cracks open, white and blinding, illuminating the world for just a moment.

And I see my savior.

The girl from the island.

Her head is above the water, watching me. Just her head—the rest of her submerged, hidden beneath the waves. Her dark hair floats around her face like a halo. Her skin is pale, almost luminous. Her eyes are—

Not human.

I look closer.

She’s still incredibly beautiful.

The lightning fades.

The darkness returns.

She’s gone.

I float alone in the churning water, clinging to my barrel, and wonder if I imagined her.

The rain pounds my face. The waves slap my chest. The cold has seeped so deep into my bones I can’t feel my fingers, can’t feel my toes, can’t feel anything except the desperate need to hold on.

"Your Highness!"

A scream cuts through the storm. Distant. Desperate. Human.

I scream back with everything I have left.

"I’m here!"

My voice is weak. Cracked. Barely audible over the wind.

But they hear me.

Light appears,lanterns, swinging, searching. Voices grow closer. Men shout. Ropes splash into the water beside me.

"Grab on!"

I reach for the rope. My hands are numb. My grip is weak. But I hold on.

They pull me up.

The ship’s hull rises before me, dark and towering. Hands grab my arms, my shoulders, my collar. They drag me over the railing, drop me on the deck.

I lie there, gasping, coughing, living.

"Get him below deck!"

"Blankets!"

"Someone find the medic!"

Hands lift me. Carry me. I’m too weak to resist.

But before they take me below, I look back.

At the ocean.

The storm is still raging. The waves are still crashing. The darkness is still absolute.

But I see her.

Her head, bobbing above the water. Watching me.

Lightning strikes.

The sky cracks open, white and blinding, illuminating the world for just a moment.

And I see her.

A woman. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Pale skin.

And a tail.

Long. Scaled. Disappearing into the depths.

I blink.

The lightning fades.

The darkness returns.

She’s gone.

***

Daphne

I can’t even hate.

If this was a movie, there would be romantic music playing in the background. A sweeping score. String instruments. The kind of swelling crescendo that makes audiences tear up.

Instead, there’s just the creak of my ship, the groan of the wood, the distant rumble of thunder fading into the night.

I look at the holographic screen from my bed, in my cabin.

The image flickers—the prince, being carried below deck by his crew, his face pale, his eyes wide. The woman with the dark hair, disappearing beneath the waves. The lightning, illuminating her tail for just a moment.

I chew dried jerky, watching what’s going on.