Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

13: Wraiths of the Past

Delilah couldn't hear what the Opal-wraiths were saying, but Dante obviously could. His entire body began to shake. Delilah realised what was about to happen and dived for him just as he took a breath. She clamped her hand over his mouth, crushing her body against his, and wrestled to ensure he stayed silent.

To her amazement, the Valian King seemed to have forgotten where he was and what he was doing. He tried to bite her fingers and she grunted, struggling.

She could hear shouts from the Pelenan boats, but the tangle of reeds concealed them. They were in a slimy, watery cave.

The boat bucked as the two royals struggled.

"Stay - silent - you bat-brained moron," she hissed in his ear. "I don't care what they're saying to you." She could hear the faintest whisper. Dante's demons looked less substantial to her than her own had, but to Dante it was as if they were corporeal. He was strong, and she panted with exertion.

He flipped over and she grunted as he crushed her against the floor, but she wrapped her other arm tightly around him to stop him getting up. Water sloshed over the side of the boat, splashing their faces. Delilah accidentally swallowed some.

Dante gave a muffled scream - of fear or anger, she couldn't tell.

Delilah snarled under her breath. The king who thought he was better than her was about to ruin everything.

She hooked a leg around his hip and heaved, managing to flip them both over with all her strength. Before he could move, she flung herself on Dante's back so he was flat on his stomach, her weight flattening his lungs.

Making sure her knees and elbows were forced firmly against his back and shoulders, causing as much pain as possible, Delilah brought her face close to his. Half of it pressed on the wood, and the other half faced hers - but he was staring wildly at one of the demons, as if she didn't exist.

She could feel his body heaving below hers, which meant he definitely couldn't take a proper breath, but she used a hand to gag him again anyway, just in case.

"Dante, they are not real," she said in his ear. "And if you let them take over your rational thoughts, we'll be caught and killed. I need you to stay silent, but I also need you. Now look at me."

He was shaking, clenching his teeth, and - were those tears, cutting tracks through the blood on his face? Tears, or lake water?

Delilah brought her face closer. Her nose grazed his cheekbone. "Look - at - me. Not them. Me."

Finally, his eye slid from the wraith and bored into her own.

"They're not real," she whispered, remembering her own demons with a flash of pain. "But I am, and so is this boat, and those soldiers out there who want our blood. Remember me, you waste of space? Delilah?"

"Delilah," he panted against her hand.

Slowly, she let him up. He sat and hunched over, wrapping his arms around his face, taking huge, shuddering breaths as the wraiths swirled around their boat. Delilah swung her blade at them half-heartedly, but to no avail.

She peered through the reeds, trying to catch a glimpse of the soldiers, but it was impossible to see what was happening. She guessed they'd gone to inspect the temple first.

Wood scraped on wood and she whirled to see Dante picking up the oars unsteadily. Every so often he flinched, as if a wraith had said something particularly hurtful, and he looked haunted, but he said hoarsely, "I'll row us further away."

"Yeah. It'll... give you something to focus on. Like when you made me look at the campfire," Delilah suggested, trying to be helpful. While Dante rowed, looking like he were throwing his heart and soul into the activity, Delilah clawed the rotting reeds from her hair, gagging a little as she threw them overboard.