THIRTY-EIGHT

 

Julia saw Romein on the ground, and she didn't think. She just threw herself at Thibault, desperate to keep him away from Romein. They landed beside a boy, another of Thibault's victims, judging by the pool of blood beneath him.

But Thibault recovered before Julia did, seizing her around the waist and lifting her into the air. "You will learn your place, bitch!" he growled, shaking her until her teeth rattled. "Or maybe you are too much trouble. I had thought to enjoy you for a little while before you met your untimely death...poison slipped into your wine cup, and you would simply go to sleep and not wake...but now, I think it is better to end things now. I shall slip some coins to the priest, who will record our marriage on the day I arrived, so that when your father arrives, there is nothing to stop me from taking Veluwe as my own, as is my right. But first, I shall teach you to be silent." He carried her inexorably toward the rushing sound of the river, then shoved her in, face first.

Julia tried to scream, but all she did was inhale a mouthful of water instead. Water – the only element her magic could touch. She bit her lip, her lungs burning for a breath, and let out the last of her air with a whispered plea for the water to help her.

Coolness touched her face, like a soft breeze stroking her cheeks. Julia gasped, inhaling blessed air, before she convulsed in a fit of coughing, bringing up the water she'd swallowed. She was still under the water, held there by Thibault's heavy hand, but now, she could breathe.

She stopped fighting, willing her body to relax, as she tried to take deep breaths from the air bubble the river had given her. Surely Thibault would give up, and release her.

When he did, water seized her limbs, carrying her out of his grasp, and deeper into the river channel. She floated on the current, drifting in the murky depths, until she glimpsed a flash of silver. A fish, she thought, reaching for it, but it was colder, heavier than any fish.

No, in her hand she held a sword – the same sword Romein had raised to block her path on the day they met. A weapon that had lain on the river bed, waiting for the day Romein would face Thibault again.

But he would not face him alone.