Page 59 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

But as soon as she took a step forward, the schellenrock slipped back beneath the water. A ripple passed over the surface, and then the lake lay as still as a mirror. It reflected the glitter of stars overhead and the grinning shape of the pines.

“You frightened it,” Sylvia said sourly.

“It was spouting nonsense! With those directions, we will get even more lost.”

“If you have any other ideas . . .”

Lorelei did not. And so, for nearly two hours, they followed the schellenrock’s stream like a thread unspooled through a labyrinth. The altitude increased sharply along this path, and by the time the sun set, Lorelei’s breaths came shorter and nausea had begun to set in. She had read about mountain sickness before in travel narratives, but she hadn’t expected it to hit her so brutally. The headache was a consistent throb in her temples. She did not say anything until a veil of snow draped itself over the mountainside.

“We should stop for the night,” Lorelei wheezed.

“Agreed.” Sylvia crossed her arms against the chill. The snowfall clung to her pale eyelashes and gathered in her hair. “It’s probably best that we share a tent tonight.” Lorelei must’ve made a repulsed face, for Sylvia drew herself up taller with indignation. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to freeze.”

“No,” Lorelei said through gritted teeth. “That sounds reasonable. Of course.”

While Sylvia pitched their tent, Lorelei struggled to coax a fire to life. When they finished eating a meager meal by firelight, Sylvia banked the coals and crawled into the tent. Lorelei reluctantly followed. Inside, it was cramped but surprisingly cozy. A strange lantern burned in the corner, throwing warm light against the walls, and the floor was piled with furs.

“It’s so small.” Lorelei hadn’t intended it as an insult, but her words came out sharply all the same.

Sylvia glowered, her ears burning red as she unfastened the straps on her sleeping bag. “Well, I’m sorry it is not to your standards, but this is all we have.”

Lorelei opened the glass door of the lantern and blew. The flame danced over the oil, but it did not extinguish. She triedagain—andagain—tothe same fruitless result. Sylvia watched this unfold with some amusement but said nothing. Lorelei could only conclude it was some work of fairy magic that would lose its charm if explained.

At least it was useful.

In a huff, Lorelei lay down beside her. Sylvia squirmed away, putting as much space between them as possible, and Lorelei tried not to feel stung. She shouldn’t be surprised Sylvia would treat her like some sharp thing she couldn’t touch, or a venomous snake that would strike given the chance. She had long since destroyed any camaraderie that could exist between them.

As she settled in, she sank deeper into Sylvia’s ridiculous collection of furs. Once, Lorelei might have mocked her for it, but at the moment she was incredibly grateful for the warmth. Her fingers were half-frozen inside her gloves, but already some life was beginning to return to them. No matter how she adjusted her position, she could not keep their shoulders from brushing together. It was nearly unbearable. The only mercy was the heat of Sylvia’s body bleeding into her.

As Lorelei rolled onto her side, it struck her how vulnerable Sylvia looked like this. In the darkness, her skin was as pale and luminous as frost. Her snowy eyelashes brushed against her cheekbone, and her hair flowed around them like moonlit water. All it would take was a twitch of her hand to twist her finger around one of Sylvia’s curls.

As if she sensed Lorelei’s thoughts, Sylvia opened her eyes. Lorelei’s breath almost caught at how they seemed to glow. She’d surely be ensorcelled if she looked into them a moment longer, and dearGod, what was happening to her?

“Lorelei?” Sylvia’s voice was terribly small when she asked, “Why do you hate me?”

I don’t hateyou—justwhat you represent. It surprised her, how easily the answer came to her. But when she opened her mouth, she could not bring herself to say it. Hatred was far too uncomplicated an emotion for Sylvia von Wolff.

“I am no threat to you any longer. You have the position you so desperately wanted,” Sylvia persisted. “But even if you didn’t, it never needed to be this way. Ziegler played us against each other.”

The tight feeling in her chest gave way to grief. “Don’t you dare.Youwere the one who made this a competition. For years, you were alwaysunderfoot, always trying to upstage me. As if you ever needed anything but your name.”

Sylvia’s lips parted. Anger darkened her cheeks. “The von Wolff name means something, yes. It’s the name of Anja von Wolff: the ruler of a rebellious province, a woman always waiting for her opportunity to strike.”

Lorelei was startled into silence. She’d heard Sylvia speak exasperatedly about her mother before, but this was the first time she’d sounded almost as though she hated her.

“She is the real reason I enlisted in Wilhelm’s army.” Her voice trembled. “What else could I have done? When I first began visiting Ruhigburg as a child, people watched me as though I would turn on them like a rabid dog.”

“No one thinks that of you anymore,” Lorelei said, surprised at her own gentleness.

“Because I have spent my entire life trying to shed that association. But I cannot falter even for a moment, especially when I take over from my mother. You saw what the sentiment was in that village. They are primed for rebellion! I will always have to prove myself.”

Lorelei certainly knew what it was like to feel as though she was the ambassadorfor—No.She wouldnotfeel sorry for Sylvia von Wolff.

“I’m so terribly sorry about that.” Lorelei sneered. “I’m sure I made for a difficult obstacle to overcome.”

“I’m so tired of your self-pity!” Sylvia took a deep breath. “And I’m so tired of fighting you. Ziegler could have made enough room for the both of us.”

An instinctive shudder tore through Lorelei. They didn’t bury her soon enough. They hardly buried her at all. As soon as they turned back, Ziegler’s ghost would be there, waiting for her on the waters of the Vereist. “Don’t speak ill of the dead.”