Page 73 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

And yet, all she could manage was “It’s late.”

As they lay down to sleep, the sound of Sylvia’s voice chased Lorelei into dreaming.I’m so sorry, Lorelei. That night, as she did every night, she dreamed of drowning. Only this time, in the exquisite and unbearable sweetness of Sylvia von Wolff’s eyes.

***

The next morning, the world seemed far less strange. The sky had returned to a clear and bracing blue. Sunlight sparkled off the snow and glazed Sylvia’s whimsical braid, one Lorelei could scarcely believe she’d woven with her own hands the night before.

Lorelei wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t dreamed it. But the evidence of it was laid out before her. It was more than that damnable braid. It was the way she found herselfstrangely...empty.No, not empty, exactly. Some fire within her had certainly gone out, but a new one kindled at the center of her chest, warm and insistent andsoft.

It was horrible.

Sylvia walked ahead of her, humming under her breath. On any otherday—anynormalday—itwould have been infuriating, the sound like a splinter beneath her skin. But today, it made her feel . . .

Ugh. She had to put a stop to this at once. With as much acid as she could muster, she said, “You’re in an unusually good mood this morning.”

“Am I?” Sylvia smiled radiantly, as though Lorelei had paid her a compliment. Her heart stuttered uselessly in response. “I’m sorry. It’s only that I’m feeling so inspired, I feel I could write an entire book about our encounters these past few days.”

“Your work truly brings you joy.”

Sylvia slowed her steps until they walked side by side. Their boots crunched rhythmically in the snow. “Yours doesn’t?”

“Not for its own sake. I always wanted to be a naturalist.”

Sylvia grabbed her elbow. “Really?”

“Yes.” Lorelei yanked her arm away. She could still feel the burn of Sylvia’s touch through her sleeve and resisted the urge to shake out her hand. “However, Ziegler thought I would do better as a folklorist.”

Sylvia looked as though she wanted to say something but thought better of it. “Well, it doesn’t matter much anymore what she thought, does it? Perhaps you’d like to experience it firsthand.”

“It,” she echoed skeptically.

“Yes!It.”Sylvia sprang ahead a step, kicking up a veil of snow. “Being a naturalist. The Absolute. All of it! Don’t you want to know what it’s like to forget yourself for a time? Don’t you want to get lost in the beauty of the world?”

Her sudden enthusiasm was alarming. “No. I have seen quite enough of your methodology to last a lifetime.”

“Where’s your spirit of adventure? You don’t even need to be ensorcelled.”

Somehow, that didn’t assuage her. “We don’t have time for this nonsense. Have you forgotten about poor Ludwig?”

“Of course I haven’t! I have an idea. We will reach him even faster this way.” Without warning, Sylvia seized her hand and twined their fingers together. Lorelei was certain her heart had stopped entirely, but Sylvia barely spared her a second glance. She touched her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Sylvia tugged her through a grove of pines shivering off a shawl of snow. It dusted the shoulders of her coat and clung to her eyelashes. When they broke through the low-hanging boughs, what she saw nearly stole her breath away.

With morning light bleeding over the horizon, she could see the entire world laid out before her: hazy blue mountains feathering toward the horizon, the river set ablaze with sunrise, and somewhere in the distance, turreted white castles.

Sylvia pointed. “Look there.”

Only a few feet below them was a stretch of open plateau. A herd of mara stood grazing in the field. At a distance, they could almost be mistaken for ordinary horses. But their eyes burned the same red as a lit coal, and their manes drifted around them like thick plumes of smoke. If you climbed onto a mara’s back, your feet would never touch the earth again. It would run and run until the years slipped away from you.

“Let’s ride one,” Sylvia said, suddenly very close to her ear.

Lorelei whirled to face her. “Absolutely not!”

Sylvia touched a finger to Lorelei’s lips to quiet her. The sheercondescensionofit...Loreleihad half a mind to bite her. In a stage whisper, Sylvia said, “You worry far too much. I’ve done this a thousand times before, and it will make transporting Ludwig mucheasier—andfaster. There is no downside.”

Lorelei wanted to say something smart, but all that came out was a sickly groan. This would be a stupid death if there ever was one. What kind of self-destructive fool decided to make a habit of riding mara? She supposed a lesser sort of fool than one who agreed to be taught.

“Fine. Just make it quick.”