“What’s wrong? A little stinky water bringing you down?” Hook says, grinning as he slogs through the swamp.
Ignoring him, I continue southeast. With no real path to follow, I can only hope we are headed in the right direction.
“Did you lose something, Lost Girl?” my brother says, reaching for a muddy corset in the water. He slips his hand under the ribbon laced up the back of the corset, and when he tries to lift it up, he’s met with resistance. He pulls harder, picking it and the dead woman wearing the bodice up out of the water. There is nothing left of her but bones and rotten flesh. What looked like floating moss and dead grass is actually her long hair.
Hook yelps, dropping the young woman into the water. His boots splash as he scurries back, away from the corpse. Taking in the scene, I realize that many of the random items in the water aren’t random at all. Boots, petticoats, and dinner jackets clothe the sea of dead bodies beneath the water’s surface.
My brother seems to process the dire situation we find ourselves in at the same time I do. He turns away from the corpse of the woman and retches violently. As odd as it is, I find myself snickering. He puts on a tough front—relished in serving raw meat to his crocodiles in Everland, lived among the dead after the bombing. And this … this is what turns his stomach? Although I can’t blame him.
“What’s wrong? A little stinky water bringing you down?” I say, repeating his mockery.
My brother whirls toward me, swinging his hand in my direction. I duck just in time. Fed up, I lunge at him, looking for the first opportunity to plunge his face below the water’s surface. Something nudges my legs beneath the water. I stagger away, assuming it’s another dead body, but instead whatever it is leaves a large ripple in the water.
Hook, not noticing the creature, swipes at me again, this time pinning my neck against a tree with his metal hand.
“What did you say?” he says, spittle spraying from his lips.
But before I answer him, something wraps around his legs, knocking him off-balance and into the rancid water. I reach for him with the intent to rescue him—again—but realize I can’t move my feet. My ankles are pinned. When I look down, the head of a large snake slithers up my legs. I grab for it, wrestling to pull it off me, but it is much too strong. It squeezes my legs tighter, looping a wide circle around me, catching my arms in its deadly grip. Slowly, it coils around my chest, and I’m unable to breathe. Stars prickle the edges of my vision. I drop to my knees, the swamp water rising to my chin. The brown-and-black spotted snake’s head hovers just in front of my eyes, seeming to take pleasure as it cuts off my oxygen. With my hands pinned to my side, I can’t reach my weapons belt.
Meters in front of me, Hook struggles within the grip of another abnormally large snake. His lips are blue and he gasps for air. Snakes of all colors and sizes slither from the treetops, using the vines as a means of accessing the swamp. Soon we are surrounded by terrifying hissing reptiles.
My vision darkens and my breath is so shallow I hardly know how I’m still conscious. Like a black curtain, my eyesight fails me. As I’m ready to give in to my inevitable death, my lungs expand with the rush of humid but welcome air. Blood spatters my face as my stepbrother slices the snake into two parts with a long knife.
“It’s not your time yet, little brother,” he says, holding his hand out to me. I slap it away and stand on my own.
“I thought we were even?” I ask, grumbling.
He pulls me by the back of my coat from the murk and leans in, his dark eyes fixed on mine. “We still are. We don’t have the apple and I might need your warm body yet. When you die it’ll be from my hand,” he says.
He turns his back on me, and I know if I don’t watch mine, I’ll be dead.
The freezing water stings my skin like thousands of needles burrowing into every pore. Fear digs its claws into me as I struggle to swim to the water’s surface. Flailing helplessly, I sink deeper into the icy depths of the lake, my sword pulling me down like an anchor and my lungs screaming for air. I kick harder, hoping to propel myself upward, but to no avail.
As I’m about to involuntarily take in a gulp that will seal my fate in this watery grave, a hand rips my sword from its sheath and releases it. My weapon sinks toward the bottom of the lake. My rescuer grips the sleeve of my tunic and yanks me upward. Clinging on to the faintest bit of hope, I keep my lips pressed together, refusing to give in to the urge for air.
The moon shines down onto the surface of the water, making it sparkle like diamonds above me. This is the second time on this journey I have found myself desperate to be above the surface. If I never see water again, it won’t be long enough. I reach for the iridescent ripples beneath the moonlight, knowing beyond them is the air I so desperately need.
When my face breaks the surface, I gasp, hungry for as much oxygen as possible. An arm wraps around me as I am dragged through the lake, warm breath panting in my ear. It seems like forever before we make it to shore and crawl onto the muddy bank, coughing up water. The identity of my rescuer comes as no surprise. He’s as chivalrous here as he is defiant in Alnwick.
Maddox, drenched down to his black buckled boots, huffs, trying to catch his own breath. Water drips down his face as he peers at me, and worry lines crease between his brows. He inches toward me and squeezes my hand. I’m touched by the genuine concern reflected in his brilliant gold eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, surveying the rest of me as if to make sure I’m still intact.
“You rescued me?” I say, and it comes out sounding like a question.
“Of course I rescued you. What choice did I have? You almost died out there,” he says so loudly that I startle. He wades back into the water and snatches his hat, which floats just off the bank, and slogs back up onto the sand. “What were you thinking? Who jumps off a thirty-meter waterfall and into a lake, much less a person who can’t swim? How does a duchess whose life is delivered to her on a silver platter, who has access to anything she needs or desires, not know how to swim?”
Dropping my gaze to the ground, I shrug. My chest feels heavy, and I can’t quite pinpoint the feelings stirring within me: embarrassment or disappointment.
Maddox sighs and tilts my chin up. “Are you really all right?” he asks, this time a bit softer. The worry in his expression makes him appear older.
Nodding, I shiver when an autumn breeze whisks through the clearing.
He wraps his arms around me, rubbing the wet sleeves of my tunic. “You’re freezing. We need to get you warm.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to sit for a while,” I say through chattering teeth.
“We’re both going to end up sick if we don’t get warm,” he says. He dashes into a nearby grove of trees and gathers sticks and leaves. Soon he has the beginnings of a small campfire.
Cold bites at my toes and fingers. I curl up into a ball, setting my head on a small pile of leaves. Maddox rustles around, but with my eyes shut tight I’m unable to take in what he’s doing. Soon, warmth tickles my skin.
When I open my eyes again, a roaring campfire is ablaze. Maddox is sitting on a log as he pokes at the glowing embers with a large stick. I crawl toward the fire, holding my frozen fingers as close as I physically can to the flames.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” I say, glad to have his company. Had he not come along, I’m sure I’d be dead by now.
Maddox gives me a curt nod and proceeds to remove his boots and socks, placing them near the fire. He pulls his coat off and hangs it on the branch of a nearby tree. I turn away as he pulls his black shirt over his head, only catching a slight glimpse of his well-chiseled chest and abs. When I hear the rustle of laces, I know that can mean only one thing.
I cover my eyes. “What do you think you are doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? Getting out of my wet clothes, and I’d highly recommend you do so as well. It’s only going to get colder, at least until sunrise. You don’t want to be wearing those wet garmen
ts. Trust me,” he says.
“I am not getting naked in front of you,” I say, flabber-gasted.
“Oh, come on. I’m not being improper. You can’t very well sit around in damp clothes. You’re already icy to the touch. You’ll never warm up,” he says.
“I’m the Duchess of Alnwick, for heaven’s sake,” I say, my teeth chattering so hard I can hardly understand what I’ve said myself. “I will not be naked in public.”
“Public? Who is going to see you?” Maddox says, snickering loudly.
“You, for one,” I say indignantly. I scoot closer to the fire.
“Suit yourself, but you’re liable to catch a case of pneumonia, and then what are you going to do? It’s not like the royal physician is going to come at your beck and call this far away. You, dear duchess, are on your own out here.”
Body shivering, I keep my gaze averted, afraid to look at Maddox’s nearly naked body, which I know is only a few meters away.
“Would you look at yourself? You going to freeze. For the love of the Queen herself, take those wet garbs off,” he says, sounding exasperated. “We can’t continue on in these clothes, so we might as well warm up and catch up on sleep.”
He’s right. I don’t know how much more shivering I can take, and with sunrise still a few hours away, it could take forever to warm up. “Turn around,” I say.
“Are you kidding me? We’re in the middle of a deadly labyrinth and freezing to death, and you’re worried about impropriety?”
“Just do it!” I say.
“Okay, fine, yes, Your Grace,” he says in a mocking tone. “Shall I bring you some tea while I’m at it? Perhaps some crumpets. Or do you desire a foot massage with your nonsense?”
“Just turn around!” I hiss.
Lifting my gaze from the forest floor, I peek at Maddox to be sure he isn’t looking and burst into uncontrollable laughter. His back is turned toward me and he is completely naked aside from his white knee-length flannel drawers, which are covered in bright red hearts.
“What? Do I really look that ridiculous half-naked?” he asks.
“That is the most absurd pair of drawers I have ever seen in my entire life,” I say through fits of giggles.
“Oh, really?” he says, peering over his shoulder and arching an eyebrow. “Do your royal duties often bring in you into contact with men in their drawers?”
I blush furiously but retort, “That is not any of your concern.”
“Ah, the duchess is not as innocent as she portrays herself to be,” Maddox teases.
“Hush, you!” I say, laughing.
“Would you just hurry up? My front side is starting to get cold and trust me, it is not a pleasant feeling,” he says.
With trembling hands, I quickly pull off my tunic, boots, leggings, and socks. I hang them on a nearby branch and sit by the fire. Left in only my undergarments, I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hiding as much of my body as possible. I hate to admit it, but I’m instantly warmer without my waterlogged clothing.
I stare at the back of Maddox. I can’t see his hands, but the blisters cover his feet and ankles. It looks so painful that it only strengthens my resolve to find this apple. For everyone.
“Are you done yet? Or are you just going to leave me standing here like this all night?” Maddox complains.
“Okay, you can turn around,” I say hesitantly.
When Maddox turns, I am speechless. Despite his silly drawers, he is the definition of gorgeous. Muscles bulge beneath his dark skin, making his chest, abs, and arms look like a carefully fashioned work of art. I bite my bottom lip, flushed by the desire to run my hand over his bare chest just to see if he’s real.
Maddox catches me admiring his sculpted body. “Look who’s laughing now. Go right ahead, Duchess. Take in the magnificence of me.” He struts around the bonfire, uninhibited, flexing his biceps.
Embarrassed, I stare at the campfire, hoping he doesn’t notice the blush I feel burning up my neck to my cheeks. He settles on a log across the fire and watches me through the dancing flames. I shift uncomfortably, ignoring his stupid preening. Pulling my knees in tighter, I try not to meet his eyes. I don’t know if he’s like many others his age, infatuated by the female body, or just enjoys watching me squirm, or is grossed out by the scabs spreading across my hands, feet, and up my legs. Finally, I can’t take it any longer.
“What? Fine, take a good look and get it over with,” I say, standing and spinning. “Are we done now?”
He looks me up and down, adding to my discomfort. He shakes his head and clicks his tongue in disapproval.
Plopping down on the dirt, I draw up my knees. Maddox continues to stare at me, unblinking. I roll my eyes. “Just say it. You haven’t taken your eyes off me since you turned around. You’re dying to say something else, aren’t you?”
Maddox chuckles and folds his arms. “Nope. You’re not going to like it.”
“Seriously? Now you choose to keep your mouth shut?” I say mockingly.
“Yep. You’ve got a pretty smile, but your scowl is almost lethal,” he says.
He’s onto my flirtations, so I drop the pretense, pick up a stick, and poke at the fire. “Come on, just tell me.”
“I’m better off just keeping my thoughts to myself.”
“Really? When have you ever kept your thoughts to yourself, because since we started this journey, you can’t seem to shut up about anything,” I say.
Maddox looks bemused. “I was just thinking that you really ought to get out of the castle more often. I’ve lived in Alnwick for five years, and not once have we crossed each other’s paths. I enjoy your company.”
That is not at all what I had expected him to say. “I enjoy yours as well.”
“Besides, your poor skin hasn’t seen the sunlight in ages. Look at you!” he adds, laughing.
I pick up a small stone and heave it at him.
“Hey!” he says, deflecting the pebble before it knocks him on the forehead.
I stick my tongue out at him and rest my chin on top of my knees, grateful for the warmth the fire brings. He chuckles, but we find ourselves quiet for a few moments before Maddox hops up and heads toward his clothes drying on the branch.
“Are you hungry? I found us some food while I was gathering wood,” he says, reaching into the pocket of his coat. When he returns, he holds out his hand. In his palm are two small bird eggs and a handful of what looks like rotten mushrooms. In the other hand is an intricate pocket tool complete with an array of knives, screwdrivers, and other instruments I’ve never seen before.
I look up at him warily. “Eggs and moldy mushrooms. How do you know they aren’t poisonous?” I immediately feel dumb as the words spill from my mouth.
Maddox gives me a cockeyed grin. “Really? You do recall where I live, don’t you?” He holds the dark lumps out to me. “These are not poisonous and they’re not mushrooms. They are truffles.”
I take one from his palm and inspect it. It is disgusting, but my stomach growls at the sight of it anyway. “I hope that it tastes a lot better than it looks,” I say, handing it back to Maddox.
Setting the food on a large piece of bark, Maddox piles large rocks near the fire. I watch as he places a flat stone over the rocks. After rinsing the meager ingredients in the lake, he returns to cut up the truffles into bite-size pieces. Finally, he tosses them onto the stone and breaks open the eggs.
My stomach growls again as I watch him mix the food together. When he is done cooking, he uses his socks as mitts and removes the stone from the heat. Normally, I’d be disgusted by his sweaty socks so close to my meal, but on any given day I wouldn’t be sitting nearly naked by the fire with a strange boy either.
Maddox places the food between us. Driven by overwhelming hunger and the fragrant smell, I reach for a morsel of the meal.
“Ah, wait! It’s hot. Here, let me help you,” he says, putting his socks on a nearby log. He finds what looks like a fork in his multitool,
uses it to retrieve a bit of the egg-and-truffle mix, and blows on it. Once it is cooled, he lifts it to my mouth. At first I hesitate, but the smell is so intoxicating that I let him slip the food between my lips. It is possibly the best meal I’ve ever had. Wrapped up in the satisfaction I feel, I don’t notice that Maddox is staring at me until I open my eyes, eager for a second bite. He is so close to me that my breath hitches.
“How was that?” he asks, his stare fixed on me.
“Delicious,” I say, feeling heat in my cheeks. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he says, smiling. He doesn’t take his gold eyes from mine as he pops a morsel into his own mouth. I can’t help but return his silly grin.
We eat in silence. With warmth and a full belly, I take in the area around us. Darkness covers the forest, and thousands of sparkling stars embedded into the obsidian sky entertain us. Fireflies perform a dramatic show of light. Surprisingly, this strange place is quite beautiful.
Once we have eaten every last crumb, Maddox stands and returns to his clothes, reaching into the pocket of his trousers. He returns with a flask. Opening the bottle, he offers it to me. The pungent smell of liquor stings my nose.
“I hardly think moonshine will help us through the Labyrinth, do you?” I say.
Wrapping his lips around the opening of the bottle, he takes a long swig, smiling the whole time. When he’s done, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He tilts the bottle toward the dark sky. “Until the sun rises, we’re not going anywhere.”
As eager as I am to get to the center of the Labyrinth, I’m happy for the brief rest. Yawning, I feel satiated from our meal, and I turn my attention to the fire, watching it dreamily.
“Besides, you could use some sleep,” he says.
He’s right. I have no idea how long I’ve been awake, but after days and nights tending to the refugees, exhaustion has caught up with me.
“You sure you don’t want a swig? It’ll help you sleep,” Maddox says, offering me the flask once again.
This time I accept, gripping the flask. “Cheers,” I say, tilting it his way.
Umberland Page 14
