Page 46 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

Lightning strike.

Ludwig threw the flowers into the woods and bolted toward them.

Everything flashed white. A crash split the world, so loud it felt as though it would crush her skull.

The world stilled. Lorelei lowered her hands from where they’d clamped over her ears and took stock of herself. Her mouth tasted of metal, and the iron chain around her neck was vibrating against her collarbone, but all of her limbs seemed to be attached. Behind the fractal pattern seared onto her retinas, she could see Ludwig and Sylvia coming out of their stupor. The two of them stared at each other for a second. Then, they began to laugh.

“You’re both completely mad!” Lorelei cried.

A light rain began to fall through the canopy. Water dripped from the fir boughs like beads of silver and stirred up the sweet, sharp smell of ozone. Her thoughts went quiet as she drank it in. Her heart beat. Her chest expanded with every breath. Somehow, with fear and relief making a muddle of her thoughts, she could not find it in herself to be angry.

***

By the time they returned to town, the festival had sprung up like a work of fairy magic.

Market stalls lined the streets, bursting with produce: jewel-bright apples and grapes, cartons of strawberries and bundles of green onion, stacks of cabbages and potatoes, vibrant bouquets tied off with twine and arranged in buckets. Children tore down the alleys with wooden swords, others running after them with their arms outstretched like wings. And then there were the cows.

They trundled by in a line that stretched several blocks. Some were crowned in fir boughs and heather, others garlanded in roses and daffodils, others still in bright headdresses embroidered with the imagesof saints. Mottled cattle dogs darted back and forth along the parade line, barking and nipping at their heels. She could barely hear herself think over the noise.

Only in Albe, she supposed. She could not fathom how such a small village could make such a commotion.

Sylvia’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. “Oh, what fun! Shall we look around? Our springtime festival had all sorts of activities. Carnival booths, eating contests, feats ofstrength—”

Lorelei leveled her with a flat stare. “What of those things sounds like it would appeal to me?”

“You are just afraid of losing.” Sylvia preened. “I suppose that’s wise. Iwasthe champion tree climber in my village.”

Ludwig winked at Lorelei. “I for one wouldloveto see that. Maybe they have their own competition here.”

“Perhaps they do! I will report back.” Sylvia needed no further encouragement.

She vanished into the crowds, leaving Lorelei and Ludwig alone once more. He flashed her an easy smile. “Shall we have a look around?”

Lorelei opened her mouth to say no, but if they’d pinned their hopes on a fairy tale, she supposed she might as well hear it. “If we must.”

They passed through the sprawl of market stands, half of them selling some variety of sausage. The stench of woodsmoke and roasting pork was beginning to make her feel vaguely ill. Outside a pub, they’d set up rows and rows of tables, where people sat chattering over their beers. A man had climbed on top of one, hoisting his glass in the air. Another was offering his ale to one of the headdressed cows, who blinked at him with bland, adoring incomprehension.

Then, someone dropped a glass.

Lorelei flinched. Her every sense sharpened, latching on to the smell of spilled beer and sweat, the sound of jeering laughter. Just like that, she was here, a grown woman with her feet firmly planted in Albisch soil, and she was a child again, running blind through the streets of the Yevanverte. Memories crowded in urgently. Teeth bared and glinting in the dark.Raised fists. Blood and shattered glass on the cobblestones. Water drip, drip, dripping from Ziegler’s limp fingers and pooling on the floor below.

“Whoa,” said Ludwig as he steered her out of the street. “Easy now.”

Goddamn it. Not again.

He helped her sit on the grass and sat silently until her breathing evened out and she had worked sensation back into her fingers. Then, he offered a paper bag to her. Inside were roasted almonds, candied and dusted with cinnamon. Her stomach turned. She’d had quite enough sugar for the day.

“No, thank you.”

“You’re all right?” he asked.

Lorelei bristled with resentment at the pity in his voice. She knew how she must look, with her haunted, vacant eyes. Like someone barely holding herself together.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said, more snappishly than she’d intended. More gently, she added, “The stress must be getting to me.”

But she couldn’t afford to crumble yet. She had foolishly let this morning slip away from her, and now she was back where she had started. If Johann had not done it, she had to set her sights elsewhere. Her life depended on it.

Across the way, Lorelei spied Adelheid and Heike standing together at a flower stall. Heike was weaving a crown of daffodils into Adelheid’s hair; Adelheid endured it nobly. When she finished, a self-satisfied smile curling on her lips, she glanced up and made eye contact with Ludwig.