Page 44 of They Call Me Blue

“Rylock and avra vines grow along partially submerged riparian corridors. Both purple in color, it can be challenging to distinguish between the two. While avra vines are poisonous if ingested in high enough quantities, small doses may prove a useful sleep aid. Rylock vines, however, serve no medicinal purpose. Even the smallest amounts can cause fever, nausea, breathlessness, skin rashes, suffocation, and death. It is for this reason, both vines should be avoided unless collected by a practiced healer.”

—A Field Guide to Plants and Poisons Along the Aegis River

I cy darkness.

An intense need to draw breath.

Slimy gravel scrapes along the bottoms of my feet, and I use the riverbed as a launching pad, pushing off until my head breaks the surface.

Starlight swirls up above me. Boulders jut from the river on all sides.

I only have time to draw a single breath before the current drags me back under.

And then I’m somersaulting so fast, I can’t tell my ups from my downs until my feet hit the gravel again and I’m able to force myself back up.

I claw at the water, and it splashes up around me.

Eyes burning, I grapple for something—anything—to latch onto.

A boulder smashes into my chest with bruising force, knocking what little air I have from my lungs.

Another springs up to my left and I reach for it, my fingers slipping through the orange algal film that’s slicking its surface.

No, no, no. Come on.

The wilderness speeds past me. The river roars in my ears. A waterfall is approaching. If I don’t drown to death, the drop will kill me.

I have to stay calm. I have to find something to stop my fall.

Another boulder races past, and my head slips back under. Icy water scorches my lungs as I reach behind me, grappling blindly for the giant stone. There. A fingerhold.

My biceps ache at the strain of holding onto the grooved edge.

But I keep holding, keep pulling, keep sputtering up water and choking down air until both of my arms are wrapped around the boulder in a tight hug.

Water whooshes past, but the hard, unforgiving rock takes the brunt of the force.

For a moment, all I can do is press my forehead against the gray sandstone and pant, blinking droplets from my lashes.

The musty stench of algae and moss has never been so fucking appealing.

I’m alive. I fucking made it.

I haul myself up the stone and collapse onto it, staring at the starlight.

Everything feels like jelly—bones, organs, joints.

Movement seems an unlikely possibility. Chest heaving, I stare at the boulders that surround me in the center of the Aegis River and briefly consider how I’m supposed to reach the banks.

The nearby boulders are too far apart to jump to or use as stepping stones.

Maybe if I were taller, more muscular, longer legged.

Maybe if I were Julian or Giara.

Crushing hopelessness has me closing my eyes and resting them, ignoring the thunderous waterfall that’s so close I can see it cresting the horizon.

I have no weapons or rope. No way to do anything remotely productive.

I’m stuck here—at least until the rains come and the water rises, the current dragging me back down.

“Lyrick, where are you?” I say the name like a prayer, but he doesn’t answer. There’s no throb in my palm—which is pretty unfair considering every other inch of my body is throbbing. “If you could take over and swim for me, that would be pretty fucking convenient.”

Still, nothing.

I let my hand fall limply at my side, the coarse, uneven surface digging into flesh.

Minutes pass, maybe longer, and then something sharp digs into Lyrick’s bite mark.

My eyes snap open. I’m groggy and disoriented— shit, I must’ve fallen asleep— and Sarvenna’s looming over me, straddling me as she pins me to the ground.

Her waterlogged hair falls in snakelike tendrils over her shoulders.

Silver threads glisten in the moonlight across her patchy gray skin.

“Who’s your master?” She growls the words, speaking crudely in the Elvish tongue.

I try to buck her off. I thrash and kick, but she might as well be a boulder for all the good it does.

Sarvenna is fucking strong. It’s easy to see why Lyrick likes her.

Hand to hand, I couldn’t take her on the best of days.

Half-drowned, the attempt is laughable. Still, that doesn’t stop me from trying.

“Fuck off.” I spit at her, and the glob lands on her jagged cheek.

She flashes her pointed teeth at me and digs her dagger into the soft skin of my palm until blue rivulets bead the surface. “Your master’s name. Now.”

Gritting my teeth, I glare at her with all the venom I possess, biting back a whimper when the blade sinks even deeper and my blood spills across the stone. “Lyrick, please.”

But he isn’t there.

“Fuck it. I don’t care.” Sarvenna drops the blade, and it clatters across the boulder’s surface, plunking into the water. My brows furrow until she wraps her spindly fingers around my throat and squeezes—hard. “Your master can’t save you here. You deserve to die for what you did to Eleesy.”

I wheeze. Darkness dances at the edges of my vision, but she doesn’t let up.

With my free hand, I grab her wrist and tug.

My grip slips on her wet skin and she smiles at me, tongue sliding across those razor-like teeth.

Her violet eyes glimmer in the darkness, and my chest tightens as my nails dig white lines into her leather vambraces.

I need air. I need—

“Lyrick.” I cough the name like it’ll save me.

Her grip eases just enough for me to whistle an inhale. “What did you say?”

“Lyrick,” I hiss. “My master’s name is Lyrick.”

A crease line forms between her brows. And then she stumbles back, that confused look still on her face.

An arrow protrudes from her shoulder and another buzzes through the wind, puncturing her cuirass.

Sarvenna tumbles over and thunks into the Aegis River, splashing water up around her.

Blood seeps through her leather armor into the rippling current, where she thrashes at the surface before finally sinking below.

Her silver hair floats along the top of the water, then disappears when she crests the waterfall and plummets. It’s a one-thousand-foot drop into sharp rocks and deep water. No one survives it.

I scan the horizon, searching for my savior. I half expect to find Lyrick standing there, but it’s Cheevy and Chest Wound instead. My heart falls—just for a moment—and I try to convince myself it’s not in disappointment.

Grinning, I cup my hands over my mouth and call out to them. “How’d you find me?”

Cheevy drops his thorny longbow into a cluster of cattails and holds up two fingers. “That’s twice on the same mission. You owe me, Arden.”

Glancing over my shoulders, I reassess my position. Water that’s too deep. Boulders that are too far away. A bank that’s impossible to reach on either side. Then, I do what I despise most. I swallow my fucking pride and ask for help. “Can you make it three? I can’t swim.”

Teeth chattering, I hold the steaming wooden mug to my mouth and take a sip, letting the pale green tea soothe my aching throat.

It’s bitter and herby and reminds me of what the river tasted like.

But gods, does it settle in my stomach like liquid warmth.

A fire crackles and hisses in front of me, drying my armor while I sit crisscross in nothing but a hide breastwrap and matching shorts that barely reach mid-thigh.

No sense being modest now—Cheevy and Chest Wound have already seen me at my weakest.

A dagger pile sits in front of me, blades still unsharpened, but I don’t have the strength to deal with it right now. I barely have enough energy to hold myself upright. Splotchy, swollen skin covers every part of my weak and useless body, and I know tomorrow, I’ll be bruised.

“You never answered how you found me,” I say to Cheevy and Chest Wound, who sit on the other side of the campfire. Embers spark and snap between us, spitting high into the air.

“When you didn’t turn back up, we used our sezins to track you,” Cheevy explains.

And I have to assume we means he because Chest Wound isn’t trained for that.

“We found your footprints and followed them to the river. That’s when we heard her prowling around.

I didn’t think I’d make the shot—I’m not as good at archery as you are. ”

“But you did.” I sniffle, wiping snot onto the back of my hand. “Thank you.”

“We’re just lucky her verncat wasn’t around.” Cheevy chuckles, but there’s no humor there. “I wish I’d been paying better attention in the swamp. I should have seen that she’d gotten away.”

No. I should have. I take another sip, shuddering at how Marr-damn good it feels. “We should put the fire out. It’s too risky.”

On the other side of the river, we’re now firmly in elgrew territory—a short hike to Azerin’s property.

The spine trees along the riverbank offer minimal concealment for our rising smoke, and equally minimal concealment for us.

It’s not as though we can climb the thorny bark and hide in the trees if another Hunter comes along.

This close to the water, we can’t even use our sezins to monitor the environment.

“Not until you’re dry,” Cheevy says. “Hypothermia isn’t any better.”

I open my mouth, close it, then take another drink.

It’s selfish of me, but I really don’t want to part with the warmth, not with water still dripping from my tightly braided hair, leaking trails down my collarbone and shoulders.

Patting the ground, I reach for an avra vine then bite into it, the dark red liquid seeping into my mouth.

I drip it into the tea—just enough to help me sleep, to forget about Sarvenna’s fingers on my throat.

The liquid turns a familiar shade of crimson, just as it did when Fenris used it to poison me.

Back then, I’d never think to consume it willingly.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Cheevy warns.

“I can’t sleep without it,” I say. “And I need to sleep if I’m going to be useful tomorrow.”

He looks like he might object, but Chest Wound cuts him off. “What’s wrong with it?”

“If it’s an avra vine, nothing,” Cheevy says. “If it’s rylock, it’ll fuck her up worse than that Hunter would have. Shit’s toxic as fuck. Julian doesn’t let us take the risk.”

“But Julian isn’t here,” I say. “And I know how to identify between the two. I’ve used it before.” I bring the liquid to my lips and pause, letting the now sweet steam into my nostrils. “If you need me to run more patrols, I won’t drink it, but I’m not sure how helpful I’ll be in a fight.”

“If you’re sure it’s avra, take it,” Cheevy says. “Torvin and I can handle patrols. We’ll wake you in the morning.”

I arch a brow. “You sure?”

They nod, and I down the rest of the drink in a single gulp, hissing in pleasure.

Wooziness settles into the very marrow of my bones, and I let myself fall back, curling into the soft mat of vines, using them to cushion me against the coarse gravel below.

The starlight blurs together as I trace the Great Three just like Dad taught me.

Corova.

Sarinya.

Precipi.

No longer do I dream of escaping there, to a world free of elgrew. Why dream of that when I can exterminate them here myself?