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.
Forty more feet.
My arms slowed, the resistance of the water heavier each time my heart beat in my chest.
Thirty feet.
A sharp jerk stopped me, throwing my arms and legs forward, and my mouth