Rosemary and Rue

I flipped myself around, pushing as hard as I could in the opposite direction. The waves weren’t helping—but then, oceans aren’t known for helping stranded swimmers, especially not ones foolish enough to dive from great heights while fully clothed. I was amazed that I hadn’t broken my neck.

It was getting harder to keep swimming: exhaustion, oxygen deprivation, and my wounded shoulder were conspiring with terror to slow me down. Just to make matters worse, the taste of roses was tickling the back of my throat. I was weak, and the curse was getting stronger; I couldn’t defend myself. If it grabbed me before I reached the air, the threat it represented was going to become a self-fulfilling prophecy, because there was no way I’d survive.

Something hit me from below. I kicked down, suddenly fueled by a new brand of panic, and was rewarded when my heels hit something soft. That would teach the local wildlife not to mess with a drowning changeling. I continued to flail upward until it hit me again. My answering kick was weaker this time. I was running out of energy; I couldn’t tell which way I was going, and the lack of oxygen was starting to blur my vision. The something hit me a third time, and I went limp, giving up. The sharks could have me.

Whatever it was grabbed the back of my shirt and started swimming upward, towing me easily to the surface. I gasped for air, and it held me up until I started treading water. The waves were fairly mild; once I could breathe again, I started looking for shore. If I could reach it before—well, there were a lot of “befores” to worry about. Before the curse hit, before I panicked completely, before I drowned . . .

Something barked behind me, and I turned, coming face-to-muzzle with a harbor seal. I was startled enough that I dipped below the surface for a moment before bobbing back up again, coughing. The seal barked merrily, seeming amused by my surprise.

Selkie. I’d fallen off a cliff into the ocean with a Selkie, and I’d been worried about drowning. I would’ve been embarrassed if I hadn’t been so tired. The curse was burning like it was going to hit at any second; I didn’t have much time.

“Connor?” I said, voice shaking. “Will you take me to shore?” He nodded, swimming closer and letting me loop my arms around his neck. His body was almost as long as mine, strong and healthy as real seals so seldom are.

We were only about a hundred yards from shore, but when you’re traveling by seal-back, that’s more than far enough to be decidedly unpleasant. I kept my eyes closed, trying to ignore the waves slapping my face. It’s rude to get seasick on your escort, however tempting it may be.

The tide tossed us onto the sand just as I thought I couldn’t stand anymore. I staggered to my feet, stumbling away from the water. I almost made it to the dry sand before the curse hit me like a rose-tinted anvil, dropping me to my knees. There wasn’t time to fight; there wasn’t even time to scream. The real world dropped away, and I was lost.

Maybe it was the result of my barely restrained panic; maybe the curse was getting better at hurting me. Either way, it wasn’t just Evening’s death this time. It rifled my memory with casual ease, pulling up the gut-wrenching moment when my lungs forgot what air was and handing it back to me in a tidy package of blood magic and iron. The sand shuddered, first becoming bloody carpet, then the damp, sun-warmed wood of the Tea Garden path. If I screamed, the sound was buried under the memories. There was no present. There was only the past, and I was drowning in it.

Someone was shaking me. Neither of the loops of memory that had ensnared me included shaking—thrashing, bleeding, and dying, but no shaking. I tried to rise toward it and was slapped back by a branch of phantom roses, shoving me down. Dimly, far away, I heard screaming. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or not, and it didn’t matter. This time there was no tourist to help me into the water. The pulse of my heart was like a drum-beat, slowing down under the weight of blood and iron and tangled memory.

I wondered if I was ever going to stop hurting.