Arden’s fingers weave through my hair and with a great tug, she forces my head back. I catch only a glimpse of her irked eyes, glowing a deep nymph golden, before she thrusts me into the running rivulet.

The ebony water glitters its way up my nose and stings behind my eyes and down the cavern of my throat, stealing the last breath held desperately captive in my lungs. I flail against her strengthened hold, pushing against the large boulders under my hands — blinded by panic, my hands slip from under me, sliding along the slicknened stones and pushing me deeper under the streaming current.

A weight drops onto my back, heavy enough to have me gasp into the water. The blackness fills my mouth and traverses unforgiving down my throat, searing like the poison of fae tonic. The clouds of dark water are too thick for me to see through, any of the wonderous creatures Frost had wanted to show me nowhere to ease the sudden death that Arden wanted for me.

There’s a muffled shout above the river that sends vibrations rippling through the tresses, the words are drowned through my filled ears but broken recollection settles stoney in my stomach as conciousness slips from me. Frost.

“Anala!”