Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The thinning ice near the center of the lake gave way beneath her.

Sian was sucked into some unknown liquid. Her entire body was drenched. The liquid was cold. Fear of this unfamiliar substance rushed in together with the chill.

Beneath the silvery surface, the lake stretched impossibly deep, clear and blue. Her feet could not touch the bottom. The sensation of sinking into a swamp was terrifying. She flailed her arms to keep her head above water, clinging to the jagged edge of the still unbroken surface. She didn’t care that it cut her palms.

Crack, snap.

The edge shattered with an ominous sound. Her slipping hand plunged into the liquid. With a spasmodic jerk she yanked it free and hooked her elbows onto what solid ice remained.

Craack.

Another dangerous sound.

Sian couldn’t swim. Dangling from the fragile ice that looked ready to give way at any moment, she gasped desperately, forcing herself to hang on.

“Help me!”

Her scream rang out.

The man standing in the distance didn’t move, even after hearing her cry. One hand tucked in his trouser pocket, he watched her in leisure, like a visitor at a zoo observing the animals.

So when he said no one would die, did he mean only himself?

“You bastard…”

Her lips trembled as she cursed under her breath. Even at fifteen degrees above freezing, this liquid was so cold it steamed her breath white. At this rate, she would die not of drowning but of hypothermia. This wasn’t water, and that made it even more terrifying.

Clinging frantically to the slick ice, she didn’t know how much longer she could endure. Either the thin surface would break, or she would sink, or she’d simply freeze to death.

“J-Just grab… my hand!”

Her jaw chattered so hard her words came out broken. She was too cold to even feel anger toward him for standing there, watching from afar after letting her fall.

“Please… I’m begging you…”

Perhaps her desperation reached him. He began to move, but so slowly it made her insides twist. Step by unhurried step, he came across the treacherous ice, stopping a few paces from where she clung. He had chosen his footing with care, avoiding cracks.

Her eyes traced the gleam of his polished shoes, the rich navy fabric of his suit, before lifting to his face. Looking up at him, she pleaded.

“C-Could you just… grab me? Please.”

“Are we still in the middle of the game?”

His words were colder than the liquid itself.

Sian thought he wasn’t a High Priest at all. Perhaps not even human. His still, almost bored eyes held not a shred of pity. He hadn’t even enjoyed throwing her in.

Her lips parted soundlessly before she set her jaw and began crawling onto the ice by herself. Better to struggle for survival than to beg that man for aid. Spreading her fingers wide until they reddened, she dragged her wet body up, trembling with effort. The ice cracked beneath her weight; her waist sank back into the liquid. She stretched out again, clinging to the solid surface, pulling herself up bit by bit. Another crack.

She repeated this struggle again and again until finally, at last, her torso cleared the liquid. Breath tore raggedly from her lips in gasps.

He still hadn’t moved. He only watched, his gaze faintly widening in surprise, but he made no effort to help.

Sian clenched her teeth and hauled her lower body up as well. Her soaked clothes clung to her skin, leeching away all warmth. When a cold wind swept past, her whole body convulsed with shivers. It was better than that icy liquid, but still unbearable.

She had to shed the wet clothes.

Crawling to safer ground, Sian stripped off her dress at once. Her trembling hands clawed at the fabric that clung to her skin, tugging until she freed her arms.

“What are you doing?”

He asked halfway through, but she had no attention to spare. It was obvious he didn’t care much about the answer anyway.

She pulled the drenched dress over her head, holding it loosely in her hand. It was from the temple, so she couldn’t simply abandon it. Dragging the sodden fabric behind her, she stumbled across the ice in only her undergarments, caring nothing for appearances. The only eyes on her were those of the High Priest bound by vows of chastity. Right now her life mattered more.

She stepped cautiously, afraid of breaking through again. Her frozen body ached, but slow steps were all she could manage.

Craack, snap!

The dreadful noise returned.

If I fall again… will I even make it out this time?

She froze, unable to move forward.

“Shall I catch you?”

She turned her head toward the voice. He was approaching, slowly as ever, despite the ominous sounds beneath them.

She wished he wouldn’t come closer. This brittle ice could barely support her, let alone him.

Yet he approached her at slow and leisurely pace, as though he believed he could never fall.

Is he doing this just to make me fall again?

Sian let out a breathless, bitter laugh.

Crack. The ice fissured beneath her.

“Catch me.”

Her eyes locked on his.

“…I can’t do it twice. Please.”

At last his hand reached for her. He didn’t wait for her to grasp it. He seized her wrist and pulled, retreating step by measured step.

Sian felt the footing collapse behind her as he dragged her backward. The cold of the hidden liquid seeped up from below. How can the melted depths be colder than the ice itself? The thought flashed through her as he hauled her out.

His pace was unhurried, almost maddeningly so, yet the ice held beneath his sure steps. It almost seemed the cracks avoided wherever he stood. At last, he led her safely to solid ground.

The moment they were on earth and grass, he released her wrist and turned, his gaze falling on her trembling body clad only in undergarments.

A breeze swept by, carrying a faint musk. Sian shivered violently as she caught the scent. It came from him. Her eyes fixed on the chest of his fine clothes, which looked warm.

The night wind gusted harder.

Sian was freezing to death. Instinctively, she flung herself into his arms. She wasn’t thinking, just obeying a survival instinct. A desire to live.

Her wet arms wrapped around his waist. The musk grew stronger as the fabric of his clothes brushed her skin, warmth radiating beneath.

Warm…

For the first time, she felt she might live. She pressed closer.

His body jolted, going rigid as stone. Shock seemed to freeze his thoughts. As she leaned in, he tipped with her, and they both collapsed into the tall grass.

Sian clung tighter, tugging at his buttons until she wedged her hand into the space between vest and jacket.

He flinched at the cold touch of her hands. His breath hitched sharply, chest rising.

Sian buried her face against his chest. More. Warmer. She pressed closer still, her soft chest, covered by only underwear, pressed against his firm body. Her trembling bare legs, covered in goosebumps, brushing against his lower half. Their bodies involuntarily touching.

Then she felt it. Something firm, heavy, pressing into her damp belly. 

He drew in another sharp breath. Sian gasped, exhaling a short gasp as she realized what it was. His lower body swelled against her soft skin.

Her vision shifted suddenly. She blinked, finding herself on her back in the grass, him looming above. He had seized the hand burrowed against his side and slammed it into the earth.

“How dare you…”

His voice shook with fury.

Sian’s eyes flicked to his tense throat, then she slowly bent one knee, feeling the weight of something thick and swollen brush against her thigh. Something utterly unsuited to a High Priest.

Veins bulged across his hand as it pinned her wrist. Pain prickled there.

“Exactly. I’m holding back, so why bring up sex?”

“So that wasn’t a joke. You really are restraining yourself,” she murmured with a faint, trembling smile. “Is that why you threw me so hard when I grabbed your waist earlier? Because you get horny so easily?”

Could this man truly be physically agitated? Was this a vulnerability?

Sian’s thoughts drifted into dangerous territory. She had been immersed in unknown liquid and toyed with by him. She wanted to shake him like he’d done to her.

“High Priest…no, Actarachion.”

The moment she spoke his name, his hand shot to her throat. His palm clamped tight, crushing her windpipe. Hhk! Hup. Breath caught painfully in her lungs. Eyes wide, Sian trembled as she clawed at the arm throttling her.

“Put your legs down.”

His tone was precarious but formal, as if he was losing his composure. He could have retreated first, but instead he chose to command. Was this just stubbornness, refusal to let her dare to get the upper hand?

This behavior was not becoming of a High Priest, but typical for a Margrave of the borderlands.

Sian smiled faintly even as she choked.

Huh, Actarachion’s breath was trembling.

He was shaken. Even this man could be unsettled.

Remembering how he had gazed at her without emotion as she flailed in the liquid, she deliberately shifted, brushing her knee against him. The mass beneath his clothes was undeniable, its size and weight startling. Even this didn’t seem appropriate for a High Priest.

The moment she lowered her legs, he lurched upright. He nervously tore open his jacket, pulled a cigarette and lighter from the inner pocket, and tossed the jacket over her. The bulge at his front was impossible to hide.

Sian pulled the jacket around her bare skin, accepting the gesture whether it was out of annoyance or pity, with relief.

“Hhhh…”

Exhaling heavily, Actarachion lit the cigarette. He inhaled sharply, as if trying to suppress instinct itself. Patience, endurance. The white body of the cigarette burned rapidly. He closed the lighter, shoving his hands into his pockets, eyes cast to the night sky as smoke curled into the air. 

The crease in his brow didn’t ease. Neither did the strain at his lower half. Finishing the first cigarette, he lit a second.

Sian staggered to her feet. Wrapped in his jacket, she was far less cold. For a moment she wondered if she should thank him for the coat. But he was the reason she had fallen in to begin with.

Besides, he wasn’t even looking her way.

Tightening the jacket around herself, Sian turned toward the temple.

“Stay where you are.”

His voice cut through the night, cold and commanding.