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His grip on me loosens. Attuning himself to other sources, the Fae’s head flings toward the surface. He glares at the forest above, as if listening to something rather than actually seeing it.

Whatever he detects, it causes him to seethe. Those spiteful fingers snap open, releasing me as if I’ll contaminate these waters. The viper swipes at my hand. Then he executes a backward loop, flipping upside down and diving into the abyss, the spiked tip of that serpent’s tail vanishing behind him.

Listless, I descend before remembering to beat my limbs and stay afloat. I pump my arms, but it’s too much. I’m too heavy, and I’m too deep, and I’m not going to make it.

I’m drowning. Yet everything’s on fire, from my gullet to my muscles.

As if in reverse, another masculine hand punches into the creek. Fingers search, swiping madly at the water, reaching, straining. I recognize those digits, the ones that play a cello and wield a longbow of yew wood.

I thrust my arm and catch his wrist. The satyr yanks me out of the depths. I break the surface, a geyser of water spraying the grass. Strong arms sling around my waist and hoist me onto the bank, where I collapse into Puck’s body, wilting against the hard basin of his chest.

Shivers rack my frame, although the undertow had been lukewarm. Drenched to the core, I wheeze for breath, the noise sawing from my lips. It takes a long time for my lungs to relax, for the charred sensation to fade. The gasps dissolve into blubbering sobs.

“I’ve got you,” Puck grates out while rocking us back and forth, his fingers in my soaked hair. “I’ve got you now. I’ve got you, luv.”

I sputter into his collarbone. “P-Puck.”

“That’s what they call me.”

Yet his cavalier voice has lost its veneer and withered to a dry leaf, brittle and jittery. I fling my arms around him, and we stay like that, huddled on the ground until his heat radiates through my clothes, and my muscles unlock.

Puck helps me sit up, my movements sluggish. He grasps my cheeks, his features wild, terrified. “You all right?”

I nod, dripping all over his leathers. “H-how did y-you know w-where I w-was?”

“Cypress. He got to the bank just as you went under. Poor fool went out of his mind and called to me through the roots.” Puck drills a hand through his red waves. “When he told me what happened, I knew who had you and where you were headed. Your captor travels faster than any of us, and he always uses this route. If I hadn’t been going crazy, I might have alerted Cypress to follow suit and manifest here, too.”

I glance around, discovering the creek isn’t a creek anymore. It’s a lake. And instead of fir trees, spruces occupy the landscape. We’re tucked beneath a tree closest to the bank, where the musk of wet soil mingles with a floral aroma, the latter possibly emanating from a cluster of strange, teal water blossoms peeking from the surface.

In the distance, a burly groan rumbles from a copse. A four-legged mass of fur trudges to its den, followed by a trio of cubs.

This must be The Sleuth of Bears, which is too far south from where I’d been. At least, that’s what Puck once told me.

At my bewildered expression, the satyr runs a thumb along my chin. “Let me send Cypress a message before he continues to panic. I’ll tell him to go home, and we’ll get your pack and archery on the way back. Oh, and don’t worry about the bears. They’ll tolerate our presence, so long as we don’t show interest in eating their offspring. It’s a matter of bearness, you understand.”

Puck leans over and rests his palm on an exposed root, channeling a message to the centaur. A minute later, he turns back. After taking one pained look at me, rage strings his features taut. The satyr regards the lake and slams his hoof into the water, splattering the area.

“Fucking Elixir,” he growls. “I’m going to kill him. Next time we meet, his ass is mine.”

“That…was…Elixir?” I heave.

Puck drops beside me. He crouches, anxiety marring his countenance. “Did you see him?”

“Only parts.”

“Which parts? What did you see?”

“Gold,” I blurt out. “So much gold.”

Puck frowns, as though that’s incomprehensible. I realize why. But of course, it was Elixir! In the oral tales that circulate through my world, only one villain possesses gilded eyes that threaten to blind all who look upon him.

“I glanced away,” I assure him. “It hurt too much to focus, so I glanced away.”

His body sags with relief. “Seeing as you can still distinguish my handsome face, I was about to either commend you on your hidden powers or conclude your reflexes had kicked in before it was too late. Smart woman.”

“He heard something. Whatever it was, he let me go.”

Puck shrugs. “Let’s just say he knew I was pissed.”