But I could not stop trying either.
As I hurtled past white bricks and archways, the air grew heavier—damper—until soon I raced through puddles that splashed icy water up my ankles and dragged at my skirts. It slowed me, and in two desperate heartbeats Clarence had faded from my sight completely. I rushed forward but instantly stumbled to a stop as the ceiling opened up. I was in a round room with more tunnels splitting off in each direction and candlelight flickering over each archway. Yet none of the tunnels were lit—none of them held any clue as to which path Clarence had chosen.
I stepped tentatively forward. My harsh breaths echoed in my ears, and my heart slammed against my ribs. “Clarence?” I called. “Where are you?”
A cold wind licked at me from the right. I twisted around. There he was, walking backward, his handsome grin wide and his fingers hooked and beckoning for me to follow.
“Wait!” I shouted. In an instant he was gone from sight.
I lunged forward, straight into the blackness. My eyes took only moments to adjust to the ever-
increasing darkness, to the ever-shimmering figure of Clarence Wilcox ahead. I was so focused that I failed to notice the changes around me. The way my footsteps rang out on the flagstones and the room opened up. The way the air smelled like long-standing water.
Or the way Clarence’s glowing form reflected beneath him like a mirror.
In a final push, I shoved all my strength into my legs. He was so close!
He stopped abruptly, spinning to face me. “If I cannot have you,” he said, his whispers snaking into my brain, “then no one shall.”
Before I could comprehend this statement, my foot flew through the air, towing me with it . . . and
I plunged into a world of ice.
The air punched from my lungs, roared from my mouth. Water clawed into my throat.
Water! I was under water!
I flung out my arms—I had to swim, had to break the surface, had to breathe! All of my air had been pushed out; my lungs had no reserves. But the dress was like a bag of stones. I strained and kicked and flailed, my chest burning, but no air kissed my skin.
And no matter how hard I fought, the crushing in my lungs didn’t lessen.
Then, in a blinding moment of terror, I realized that I didn’t know which way was up or down.
Everything was black. Everything was empty.
I clapped my hand over my mouth and squeezed out the last of my air, trapping the bubbles in my hand. Yet I couldn’t feel which way they rose.
I flapped my arms and swung my legs in what I could only pray was the right direction . . . but my lungs were filled with razors, and my muscles were drained. Frozen. I could barely throw one arm in front of the other, barely keep my fingers flexed. . . .
I was going to drown.
Golden light flashed before my eyes. The curtain—it had to be the curtain to the spirit realm. But I was not ready for it. I fought the water, fought the death I had walked into.
The light flashed more brightly, a yellow stream across my vision.
Then the water shifted and fresh cold swirled over me. It shoved my lips apart, rushing into my mouth, into my chest.
Someone grabbed my wrists . . . someone pulled me up. . . .
But whoever it was was too late. My world had already twisted into nothing.
“Empress, breathe!”
A force slammed into my belly, and I doubled up, coughing. Dying. Water sprayed from my mouth.
“Breathe, dammit!”
Hands clamped over my face, a mouth pressed against mine, and breath blasted into my throat.
Like a knife was in my chest, I choked on this air that was not mine. But then it came again, searing my lungs. My body convulsed, and with a desperate wheeze, my chest heaved.
Real air slid in. But it wasn’t enough.
“The corset is too tight.” The voice sounded like Joseph’s.
“Give me your knife, then,” Daniel said. “I’ll cut her out of it.”
“You cannot—”
“She’ll die, Joseph. Give me the goddamned knife.”
Then came the sound of ripping cloth . . . then the snap of breaking stays, until suddenly my ribs could move. My lungs could expand.
I coughed. Hands pressed to my belly, pumping. Water dribbled down the sides of my face. More coughing. More water, and then . . . more air.
I gulped it in, desperate and starving. It hurt, but I sucked in more and more. I opened my eyes, blinking as the world shifted into focus. A lantern beside me on wet flagstones . . . Joseph crouched by it with a white sack at his feet . . . and beams of light bouncing off black water.
I twisted my head and stared at Daniel—at his wet hair matted to his head and his bright, shining eyes.
“You,” I tried to say, but all that came out was a raw croak.