In the Shadow of the Goddess (Book 1 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Cold. Brexten had said the water would be cold, but he hadn't said how cold. Cold enough for hypothermia if Jill pressed her luck.

She surfaced with a whoop, sucking in air, sputtering as water hit her in the face. And her arm—it felt like Nikolos's mark was on fire as saltwater bathed it. Her shoes...well, apparently she was hell on shoes because those were lost at the bottom of the Sunset Waters somewhere. Also, her dress was floating around her stomach and she fought to reposition it. But other than that, she'd hit the water well and without injury, and the fall had been nothing.

Treading water, she looked up. Brexten wasn't in sight. Was he waiting for her to start swimming? She tried a few strokes into the cliff; looked up again. Nothing. Over her splashing, the only sounds she heard were metal against metal and the rage-filled squeals of the aldar teres. What if he'd been injured? What if aldar teres managed to break through the door and swarmed him before he could get away? What if—

Brexten appeared. She saw him pushed to the balcony railing. He hopped up awkwardly and his feet slipped. An infinity was spent watching him flail to regain his balance before he fell, headfirst, body twisting, into the Sunset Waters.

Oh God, he's going to die. He's going to die. He's going to—

Red threads flared, bursting into view as Jill's wards frayed and broke. Without thought, she reached out with magic and caught him. For about five seconds, Brexten hung suspended halfway between the balcony and the water. Red threads pulsed around him, running from her to him as the magic held him aloft.

I just did a spell, Jill mused somewhere in the back of her mind, intrigued. But the rest of her felt heavy pressure beating down on her. Yes, she'd broken her wards, had somehow infused the threads with magic, and willed Brexten not to fall headlong into the water. But she still had to breathe, swim, and keep herself from drowning. A wave hit her full in the face, the saltwater burning her eyes. Her concentration broke and Brexten dropped like a stone. The splash was terrific, sending water in all directions. Saltwater hit her in the face again. She couldn't see, couldn't find where Brexten surfaced.

"Brexten! Where are you? Answer me, damn it!"

Arrows rained down. Yelping, Jill dove deep and kicked furiously. Panic made it hard to hold her breath and she surfaced sooner than she wanted. Again, more arrows pelted the water and again, she dove.

Hope of finding Brexten disappeared as she fought her way to the cliff-face. Another breath. Another frantic dive. More arrows. Luckily, the water's surface blunted their impact and she could dive before they reached her. Still she cried out, got a mouthful of saltwater for all her troubles when her hand smashed into hard stone.

Surfacing, Jill pressed herself to the cliff-face, making herself as small a target as possible. From this angle, she was out of sight of the aldar teres on the balcony. She could still hear them though. Their screams were frustrated and angry. Would they jump in and swim after her? And then what? How could she defend herself against that?

Something touched her leg. Jill screamed, flailed, got another mouthful of water, and went under. Hands took her arms, hauling her up. She bit and kicked, fighting hard. No way was an aldar tere getting its claws on her!

"Ow! Fuck Jill, it's me! Stop it!"

Brexten. Once again, for the millionth time that night, panic ebbed as relief flowed.

"I couldn't find you! I thought you'd drowned!" she cried. "Are you all right?"

He grunted, not the most reassuring sound she'd ever heard. "Follow me."