rage hit my ear. I straightened quickly, then leaned down again to catch anything else I could. This time, I heard not just rage but anticipation.
Something was coming. But what? I couldn’t begin to imagine.
My boots were sinking fast. I wrestled one foot from the mud, and when I stepped back, water filled the hole, turning it into a tiny, still pool. As I looked down at it, the water darkened, and for a dizzying moment I thought I saw snakes twisting under its surface. Startled, I wobbled, then lost my balance completely. I fell forward, obliterating both picture and pool.
On my hands and knees, splattered in mud, with my head practically on top of what remained of the Thames, I finally heard it—a wave, still in the ocean now but gathering speed.
An enormous wave.
A wave big enough to drown a city.
And it was coming this way.
CHAPTER THIRTY
A WALL OF WATER
Was there any way to stop the wave? I listened with everything I had in me, but I couldn’t tell. I didn’t even know how much time I had till it hit. All I knew was that fury and anticipation had tipped into action, and that the water was coming for us.
I have to warn the city.
Half-covered in oozing mud already, I got muddier still as I pushed myself back to standing. As I staggered forward, I looked up to see a woman standing at the far edge of the riverbed—Melisande’s scrawny servant.
Behind her, just coming into view, was Melisande herself. Raising open palms toward the river, she began half-keening, half-crooning a song. Was she calling up the wave, or merely celebrating its existence? Either way, I had to stop her.
How, though? Wild Magic might be too risky, and yet there was nothing else.
With relief I saw men appear on the riverbank not far from Melisande. Not my men, but at least they were wearing the King’s colors. I waved to them and shouted, “Catch those women!”
As soon as I called out, Melisande and her servant bolted. Instead of chasing them, the men stared at me from the top of some river steps. Couldn’t they hear what I was saying?
“Catch them!” I shouted again.
The leader of the patrol cupped his hands and bellowed at me. “You there, whoever you are! Out of the riverbed!”
“I’m the Chantress,” I bellowed back, slogging through the mud toward the riverbank. “Don’t let those women get away!”
Even as I pointed, however, I saw it was too late. Already Melisande and her servant were disappearing into an alleyway.
At least I’d stopped her from singing. But when I listened again, I realized that wasn’t enough. I could still hear the wave coming.
All I could do now was get the King’s men back before it hit. “Retreat!” I shouted at them. “Danger!”
A chorus of confusion:
“Blimey, it’s the Chantress.”
“Maybe it’s an illusion.”
“What’s she saying?”
I shouted more loudly. “All of you, get back! There’s a wave coming!”
More confusion in the ranks, but this time they started to retreat. The leader shouted something about finding Lord Walbrook. And then they were gone.
I lurched another yard toward land and lost my boot. As I floundered to retrieve it, someone shouted my name. I looked up. Nat was running down the river steps toward me.
I waved him away with my muddy arms. “Go back!”
He leaped off the last step, down into the mud. “What?”
“Go back!” I shouted. “There’s a wave coming, big enough to swallow London. Go and warn everyone!”
Behind me, I heard gurgling. The trickle of water was bubbling, quivering, widening. Giving up the boot for lost, I started to run. A second later, Nat did too. Mud hindered our every step, and frantically I wondered how much time we had left. The music from the river was growing louder by the second. By the time we reached the edge of the riverbed, it was overpowering.
Half-leaping, half-climbing, Nat pulled himself back onto the river steps and reached out for me. I gasped as his iron ring bumped up against my bracelet and our hands met, skin to skin.
As he swung me up, I caught sight of the remaining sections of London Bridge, and what looked like a hazy cloud in the distance behind them. Only it wasn’t a cloud, I realized a second later. It was the white crest of a wave.
“Run!” I screamed at Nat.
We bounded up the steps together, but the wave was coming too fast. I could see it more clearly now, the water cleaving together as it barreled