I was diving the salty waters of the Unnamed Sea, but in my mind I was standing barefoot on the hot deck of the Marigold. Auster at the top of the main mast with a cloud of seabirds around him. The threads of gold lighting in Willa’s hair.
West.
Again and again, my mind found its way to him.
It wasn’t until the mallet slipped from my numb fingers that I blinked and the reef came rushing back to me. The blue swallowed up the vision, a twist behind my ribs threatening to pull me to the black. I found one of the iron anchors driven into the reef and held on, pinching my eyes closed. The ping of Koy’s pick down the ridge sharpened my thoughts enough for me to realize I needed air. He stilled, looking up at me over the waving fronds of red coral for only a moment before he got back to work. There was probably nothing Koy would love more than to see me dead on this reef.
I slipped the mallet back into my belt and pushed off the ledge, kicking toward the light. The reef, and the dredgers on it, grew small beneath me until I broke the surface with a ragged gasp, my vision washed white in the glare of the sun. It hung in the middle of the sky above me, but I couldn’t feel its warmth as I drank in the humid air. My skin was ice cold, the blood moving slowly in my veins.
Clove’s face appeared over the railing of the Luna, and as soon as he laid eyes on me, he vanished again. I squinted, thinking that maybe I had imagined him there. The light was too bright, pulling in glaring beams that splintered and glowed, making my head hurt.
It had been a long night, dredging in the moonlight until it was too dark to see the reef. I’d gotten only an hour or two of sleep before the bell on the deck was ringing again, and I was back in the water by the time the sun appeared on the horizon.
I hooked one arm into the lowest rung of the rope ladder and untied the purse from my belt with a shaking hand. As soon as it landed in the basket hanging against the hull, the Waterside stray above was hoisting it up for Clove’s count.
I stayed there and breathed, willing the feeling to come back into my weak arms. I needed to get my body warm if I was going to keep diving, but the piece of bloodstone I was working on in the reef was almost loose. Three more strikes and I’d have it free.
A splash sounded behind me, and I looked back to see Ryland surface, the sound of his broad chest taking in the air like the howl of wind. He panted, pulling it in and out until it was steady, his face turned up to the sun.
I watched him swim to the ship and set his purse into the next basket. It instantly lifted, dripping as it rose. When the deckhand at the railing fished the haul from inside, he tossed it into the air and caught it again, feeling its weight. “Little light there, Ryland,” he said, laughing.
Ryland gave the boy a tight smile, the red beneath his skin blooming. It was one thing to know other dredgers were better than you. It was another for your crew to know it. I wondered if Ryland’s place on the Luna was becoming just as precarious as mine was.
His burning gaze found me, and I turned away, calling up to the ship. “I need a line!” My voice was hoarse from the burn of salt.
The Waterside stray appeared over the side of the Luna again, giving me a nod, and I pressed my forehead into the wet ropes, closing my eyes. My stomach was sour from swallowing the seawater, and the blisters on my hands had all reopened. But if I wanted to get back to the Narrows, I couldn’t afford for this haul to be even one carat short.
The rope landed in the water beside me and I hooked it over my shoulder as I let go of the ladder. My chest was sore when I drew the breath back in, my bruised bones screaming. One more. Then I’d rest. Then I’d climb back up onto the sun-warmed deck and let the trembling in my limbs slow.
I gulped in a last full breath and plunged back under, going still so that I could let myself sink slowly and save as much energy as possible. Koy was coming up again, kicking toward the surface for air, and a stream of bubbles trailed up as he passed me. By the time my feet came down on the reef, he was a fleeting silhouette against the sunlight above.
Floating arms of pink coral pulled into their burrows and fish scattered frantically into the blue as I scaled downward to find the iron anchor. I could tell by the pinch in the center of my throat that the air wasn’t going to last long. My body was too tired to regulate it properly, but I could save some of my strength by letting the rope tether me to the reef. This was exactly the point my mother would have told me to get out of the water. And I would. Once I had the bloodstone in my hand.
I threaded the end of the rope through the hold and secured it with a knot before I took the other end and tied it around my waist. The rope was stiff with salt, making it less likely to slip.
The half-dredged gem was the color of sun-dried algae baking on the beach, shining where it was exposed beneath the rock. The voice of the bloodstone was one of the first I’d learned to recognize when my mother began to teach me. Like the soft hum of a familiar tune.
She said stones like that had to be coaxed from the reef. That they wouldn’t just answer to anyone.
I took the mallet from my belt and chose the largest pick. If I wasn’t short on time, I’d be more careful, using the smallest tools to keep from damaging the edges, but Zola would have to settle for what he got.
I adjusted my angle, working at the corner with quick taps, and when the scrape of rock reverberated around me, I turned, looking up the reef. The dredger working the other end with Ryland had kicked up from an overhang, swimming to the surface.
I hit the chisel again, and the crust of basalt cracked and clouded around me as it fell to the seafloor below. I waited for it to clear before I drifted close, examining the stone’s edges. It was larger than I’d expected, the coloring pocked with a crude stripe of bright crimson.
The creak of rock sounded again, and I lifted myself up over the ridge, watching the reef. It was empty. I was only faintly aware of the tingle that crept over my numb skin, the echo of a thought in the back of my mind before the feeling of weight tugged at my hip.
I whirled, the chisel clutched in my hand like a knife before me, and my lips parted when the warmth of him bled through the water. Ryland. He yanked hard at my belt, sliding his knife between my tools and my hip, sawing. I kicked as the belt broke free and fell to the seafloor, trying to push him back. But he pinned me with one hand around my throat, holding me to the reef.
I clawed at his fingers, screaming under water, and the cutting sting of coral sliced into my leg as I thrashed. Ryland looked into my face, watching the air bubble from my lips. The sharp tinge of fear raced over my body, reawakening the cold skin and bringing the heat back into my face.
He was waiting for my lungs to empty. He was trying to drown me.
I pressed my lips together, willing my heart to slow before I burned through the last bit of my air. He had himself wedged against the rock, holding me in place with his weight. No amount of kicking was going to shift him. I searched above us for a shadow. For anyone who might be able to see. But there was only the shimmer of light on the surface.
I watched helplessly as my hold loosened on him, and a desperate cry broke in my chest. My hands couldn’t move. I could hardly even bend my fingers.
Ryland’s eyes flickered over my head to the reef. His grip clamped down harder before he suddenly let me go and kicked off the outcropping. I watched him disappear over me, and I launched myself from the rock, carving through the water as fast as I could. I kicked, watching the light on the surface spread as the darkness of my mind pushed forward.