“I want Angoulême to pay for what he did to Élise,” Martin said, rising into a crouch. “That won’t happen if you’re dead. And besides,” he added, taking my arm and drawing me through the shadows toward a bridge embankment. “The King does not take kindly to those who disobey his orders.”

“He might be dead.”

“I don’t deal in mights.” He pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my ribs, his fingers digging into my side. “Deep breath.”

I sucked one in, but it didn’t seem like enough. There wasn’t a chance for another. Magic closed around us, blocking out sight and sound, but not the sensation of falling. We hit the water on our sides, and my elbow slammed painfully against the magic. Up and down we plunged, rolling and rotating like a log in the frothing rapids. Dizziness and nausea swept through me, and no matter how hard I tried not to, I gasped in little breaths with each jarring bounce.

But nothing could’ve prepared me for the impact of us hitting the rock that split the river in two. My teeth rattled together, and I cried out in pain as my head slammed against our magical container. We rolled, caught up against the rock, and I heard Martin curse, his body quivering with effort, and then we were moving again. I waited for us to smash up against the bars and begin the endless tumble that would be our doom, but it never came.

The worst of the bouncing ceased. Then the magic disappeared and icy cold water closed over my head. My heels jarred against the riverbed, and I kicked up, spluttering and gasping as I broke the surface.

The darkness was absolute, the current tugging me through the winding tunnel, but I knew it eventually spilled down what had once been the steps of the stadium, and I needed to get out before then.

“Martin?” I hissed, turning in the water so my feet would take the brunt of anything I ran up against. “Where are you?”

The only response was my wildly chattering teeth. “Martin?” What if he’d hit his head? What if he couldn’t swim? What if yet another friend had died trying to help me?

Ahead, I heard the rush of the water pouring down into the lake. I had to get free of the current. Kicking my feet, I swam toward the bank. My fingers brushed against the rock, and I reached up, trying to catch hold of the lip. But all I found was rock worn smooth by centuries of flowing water.

I was so cold. Already, my limbs felt sluggish and heavy, and I kicked futilely, no longer certain where the edge was. Get out! You have to get out! Stretching my arm, I found the bank again, and drawing on what little reserves of energy were left in my body, I lunged up.