Water finds its way through the smallest spaces and the narrowest cracks. Where the
bone meets sinew, where the skin is split. It is treacherous1 and loving. You can die as
easily of thirst as you can of drowning.
From Angharad by Emrys Myrddin, 191 AD
The rain had already begun the next morning, just a light spray of it, enough to cloud the windows
of the guesthouse with condensation2. Outside, the green world had gotten greener: dripping with
rainwater, the leaves and the grass turned jewel-toned and the moss3 on the trees and rocks looked
richer. Well-fed. The wood had turned almost black, damp and breathing. The pieces of sky that
showed through the tree canopy4 were densely6 gray.
Effy walked up the path toward the house, wind tossing her hair every which way, the sea
churning and churning below. The rocks jutted7 through the slosh of foam8 like sharp teeth. She
squinted9 and peered down the side of the cliff, but the seabirds had all gone, their nests and eyries
abandoned.
Once Effy had read a book about the Drowning that said animals had sensed it coming. The
penned sheep had bleated10 in desperation in the days before the storm, the yoked11 cattle straining
and straining against their binds12. In the end, they had all perished, too. Her skin chilled.
That was when she saw it, the flutter of something dark like a piece of fabric13 caught in the
wind. But as her eyes adjusted to the muddled14 light and she blinked rainwater off her lashes15, it
took a more solid shape: damp black hair, scraggly as kelp, bone-white skin, and a jagged crown
of antlers. Its face was blurred16 and featureless, as if it were a painting, not yet dry, that had been
run over and ruined with rain.
It spoke17 to her, but it was a language not meant for human ears, something unfathomably
ancient, or perhaps she simply could not make out the words over the thrashing rain and wind. It
extended its hand, long fingers uncurling, claws at their tips. Effy stood there frozen in terror,
water pouring off them both.
And then she ran. The path to the house had already turned mostly to mud, sucking at her
boots, the air so fiercely cold she regretted her choice of a skirt and stockings instead of trousers.
She ran until she was short of breath, and then she stopped, panting, and looked over her shoulder.
There was nothing but the rocks and the rain, and her own sodden19 footprints in the mud. Effy
curled her cold fingers into fists and squeezed her eyes shut.
She had taken her pink pills dutifully this morning. She had resolved not to believe in such
things anymore. What had gone wrong? Had she lived in the unreal world so long it was
impossible to pull herself out of it? Had she spent so long believing the stories, the lies, that her
mind now rejected the truth?
Perhaps she was beyond saving. Perhaps no pink pills or wheedling20 doctor could rescue her
from drowning.
Effy stood there in the shadow of the enormous house, swallowing her tears. There was one
thing left, her last desperate resort. Something she could still hang her hopes on. Maybe when they
uncovered the truth about Myrddin at last—unearthed the final, irrefutable clue—the Fairy King
would die with him, with his legacy21.
It was all she had to believe in, or else the rest of her life would be locked rooms and padded
walls and pill after pill after pill. She would sink to the seafloor like one of Myrddin’s selkie wives
and never surface again.
So she tried to narrow her mind like the edge of a knife, focused on one singular thing—the
key, the key, the key. But her thoughts kept wandering to Preston. Specifically the memory of his
fingers cupping her hip22. She had replayed the moment over and over again in bed the night before:
his hand sliding up her thigh23, under her skirt. He had wanted her, too, she had felt it, the proof of
his wanting right there between her legs. And yet—
She shook her head, smoothed her hair back from her face, and forced herself to think of
anything else. Anything but the Fairy King she did not want yet could not escape, and the boy she
did want but could not have.
As she approached the house, Effy heard a ringing sound. At first she thought it was the bells,
the fabled24 bells she’d been longing25 to hear, but it was something clearer, something above the
surface. Metal against metal.
Above her, Hiraeth itself seemed to sway and groan26, rocking perilously27 against the bruise-
colored clouds. Effy picked her way around the house, her boots completely waterlogged now, in
search of the ringing sound.
To her surprise, she found Ianto there, kneeling at the base of a large black tree. He had a
hammer in one hand and he was striking a small piece of metal repeatedly, driving the stake into
the root of the tree. His hair was loose and wild around his face, his brow drenched28 with rainwater
and sweat.
He didn’t see or hear Effy until she cleared her throat and said, “Ianto?”
He turned around, colorless eyes murky29 and depthless. “Effy.”
“What are you doing?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the wind.
“The trees have to be staked down,” he said. “Or else the wind will tear them up by their roots
and hurl30 them right through the north wall of the house.”
Effy looked around. There were hundreds of trees, branches whipping violently, their leaves
coming loose and curling up into the air. “Do you need any help with that?”
Ianto gave a mirthless laugh. “Not from you, my dear. This isn’t women’s work.” But his
voice was light, and there was no cruel, glassy gleam in his eyes. There was a long metal chain on
the ground beside him, coiled like a snake ready to strike. “Well. I suppose you could bring me my
jacket. It’s draped over one of the chairs in the dining room.”
“Of course,” Effy said. She was trembling already, overwhelmed by the opportunity she’d
been given. Where Ianto’s collar slung31 low, she could see just a glimpse of the leather cord.
She hurried up the stairs to the house and heaved the door open, breathing hard.
The foyer seemed darker than usual, one rusted32 candle stand in the corner giving off a bubble
of filmy light. Effy splashed through the puddles33 on the floor, ignoring the water dripping from
above and the ceiling sagging35 like an old man’s jowls.
Wetherell stood in the threshold to the dining room, looking even grimmer than usual.
“What will you be doing to weather the storm, Ms. Sayre?” he asked. His lips barely moved as
he spoke.
She did not want to tell him that she planned to leave; he might warn Ianto. “What is there to
do?”
“Board up the windows. Tie down the trees.” Wetherell’s eyes shifted under their heavy lids.
“If you were smart, you would leave now, while you still can.”
Effy blinked in surprise. “You’re going to leave? You’re in charge of Myrddin’s estate . . .”
“Myrddin’s estate is more than just this house. It’s all the money in his Northern bank account,
the royalty36 checks owed by his publisher, the letters that I gave Mr. Héloury. This house is nothing
but an ugly, rotting testament37 to the late Myrddin’s cruelty, and the price Ianto is still paying for
it.”
“Cruelty? What do you mean?”
“This is no place to bring a wife, to raise a family, living always with the fear of destruction.
Myrddin did it on purpose, building the house here and holding his wife and son within it. He
wanted them to be afraid—afraid to stay, and afraid to leave, in equal measure.”
Suddenly Effy remembered the one-sided conversation she’d overheard.
I didn’t have a choice, Ianto had said, groaning38 as if he were in pain. This house has a hold on
me, you know that, you know about the mountain ash . . .
She remembered the look of envy in his eyes when she had left Hiraeth with Preston. She
remembered how desperate Ianto had been to get back to the house after their meal at the pub,
desperate enough to leave her stranded40 on the side of the road.
If she was not supposed to believe in magic, how could she explain any of it? She had no
choice but to think Ianto was mad, miserable41, chained to this house and to his father’s legacy out
of guilt42 and grief and enduring terror. Myrddin wanted Ianto to be afraid, and so he was, even after
his father was gone.
Perhaps the truth would free Ianto, too. They just had to get to the basement.
Effy drew in a breath and met Wetherell’s eyes without contrition43.
“I’m not afraid,” Effy said, even as the wind made the window glass ripple44 like paper. “I’m not
leaving until I get what I need.”
When she went back out to bring Ianto his jacket, it was already raining more furiously, the
droplets45 hard and fat, almost painful as they hit her skin. Ianto scarcely looked up as she
reemerged; he was coiling the large chain around the trunk of the tree, looping it through the
stakes with a bitter, teeth-gritted concentration.
He shot her a brisk look and said, voice tight, “Lay it on my shoulders, please.”
Slowly Effy approached, blood pulsing with adrenaline. If she failed now, it was unlikely she
would get another chance. With great care and deliberation, Effy laid the jacket over him. One
shoulder, and then the other. And then, as he began to shrug46 into it, she slipped the cord from
around his neck with a gentle and innocuous tug47.
Sucking in a sharp breath, Effy stumbled back, shoving the key quickly up the sleeve of her
coat. Ianto didn’t even twitch48.
He looked up for a moment, at the tree that he’d draped with chains and fastened to the
ground, like a sorceress tied at the stake. His eyes were half- closed. His expression was
unreadable.
“Ianto,” Effy said, against her better judgment49. She knew she ought to just flee to the basement
now, knew that Preston was waiting for her, that they couldn’t afford to waste any more time. But
her chest felt tight with an unexpected grief. This house has a hold on me, Ianto had said out loud,
to no one.
Despite his odd, shifting moods, despite his occasional cruelty, Effy had finally realized they
had more in common than she’d thought. “Are you sure you want to stay?”
He choked out something that Effy thought was a laugh, but she couldn’t quite be sure. Ianto
turned around at last, strands50 of black hair plastered down his face like the long claw marks of
some wild beast.
“‘But a sailor was I,’” he said, “‘and on my head no fleck51 of gray—so with all the boldness of
my youth, I said: The only enemy is the sea.’”
The sound of the rain blurred his recitation, striking out syllables52. But Effy knew the words by
heart. Ianto, with his cloudy, turbid53 gaze, had no intention of leaving Hiraeth.
Effy could barely bring herself to nod at him. She staggered back up toward the house, heart
roaring in her ears. Ianto had omitted the poem’s first line: Everything ancient must decay.
Preston was waiting for her outside the basement door, pacing nervously54. One hand was curled
around the back of his neck. Effy pulled the key from her sleeve and held it out, dangling55 it in the
air.
Behind his glasses, Preston’s eyes grew wide. “You really got it?”
“When will you finally stop underestimating me?”
He huffed out a laugh, but it was shaky with fear. “You don’t have to do this, Effy. Really. We
can come back later. We can hire a dredge crew to clear the water—”
“Preston,” she said curtly56, “we both know that we’re not coming back.”
Wetherell had vanished from the threshold. Effy hoped he’d packed his things and driven
down the road, away from this house, while he still had the chance. Had he turned the car’s
mirrors right-side out again before he went?
She imagined the bartender at the pub in Saltney nailing boards over her windows, all the
fishermen battening down their hatches. How many more houses would this storm take? How
many stories, how many lives, crumbling57 into the oblivious58, uncaring sea? With trembling hands
she fitted the key into the lock and turned it.
The rotted door swung open without a sound.
Behind it, the dark water rippled59 and seethed60. It sang a wordless song of depths, of danger.
Effy took one step down the stairs, then another, until she had reached the very last stair that was
not submerged.
Preston stood in the threshold above her, his shoulders actually trembling.
“It’s all right,” she said, and she was surprised by how calm her voice sounded. “Turn on the
flashlight.”
Whispering something unintelligible61, Preston clicked it on. Light grafted62 onto the damp stone
walls and illuminated63 the faded engraving64 above the water. The only enemy is the sea.
Effy had liked swimming as a child, when her grandparents had brought her to the natatorium
at one of the hotels in Draefen. They had gone on weekend mornings, while her mother slept until
noon, obliterated65 by last night’s bottle of gin. In her bright yellow bathing costume, Effy had
splashed and played, and even made it a challenge for herself to see how long she could stand to
hold her head underwater. Her grandfather had noticed her enthusiasm and paid for lessons, and
though they had tapered66 off by the end of secondary school, Effy considered herself a stronger
swimmer than most.
She had practiced holding her breath last night, to see how long she could last before her lungs
started to burn and panic set in. Thirty seconds, forty, sixty—but Effy knew it would be different
once she was under. It always was. When there was only the bleary, distant light from Preston’s
flashlight, when the cold sank into her bones. She knelt down on the slick, barnacle-ridden step
and began to slide her boots off.
“Just give me one last chance to convince you,” Preston said in an urgent, quavering voice.
“We can find some other way . . .”
Effy set her boots down and stood there in her stocking feet, shivering at the feel of the wet
stone. She shrugged67 off her coat, tied back her hair with its velvet68 ribbon. She stared down into the
dark and impenetrable water.
Almost impossibly, a sliver70 of her reflection rippled up from that black mirror. A pale crescent
of face, a puff71 of dark blond hair. The flash of high cheekbones and the feather of yellow lashes.
It made her feel both more and less afraid. She felt the way she had when she had seen the
ghost in the hall—fear not of the thing itself, but of the dark water closing in around it.
She turned around to face Preston. She said, “Don’t be afraid. I know that I can do this.”
He curled his fingers around her arm, anchoring her there for just one moment. He looked her
right in the eye, gaze steadier now, fierce with determination.
“Remember what we talked about,” he said. “Keep one hand on the left wall so you don’t get
lost. The first dive is exploratory. Try to see how far the cavern72 goes, then come back for air and
we’ll reassess.”
Under his collar, his throat was pulsing. Effy wanted to touch it again, to touch him, but she
knew that if she did, she would never want to let go. Very gently, she extricated73 herself from his
grasp.
“I know,” she said. “I’m ready.”
And then she turned back and began her descent. The water was cold and the initial shock of it
made her gasp74, rolling up to her waist and then higher, until her arms were submerged. She was
buoyant now, having lost the sensation of the slippery ground under her feet.
She reached out, movements made sluggish75 by the turbid water, and found the left wall. It, too,
was slick with algae76 and she could feel the crevices77 where the brick had crumbled78 away, letting
the water in.
Effy heard Preston’s breathing quicken, but she was determined79 not to look back. Her hair
drifted out around her head like pale flotsam. She took another deep inhale80, and then ducked
under.
Instantly the light dimmed; it turned the water a murky green in front of her, nearly opaque81.
Effy kicked, propelling herself forward. There was the dark shape of something in the distance, but
she couldn’t tell what, and already her throat was growing tight.
She let herself drift a little farther, carried by the inertia82 of her initial kicks, until her fingers
brushed against something hard and solid. The dark thing, whatever it was—she could reach it.
She wanted to keep going, to get her hands around it, to hold something, but she remembered
her promise to Preston and turned back, kicking up toward the bleary light. She surfaced again,
gasping83, and saw that Preston had moved farther down the steps, now submerged up to his knees.
He grasped her wrist and hauled her up the steps, out of the water.
“Effy,” he choked out. “Are you all right?”
It took a few moments of labored84 breathing before Effy could speak.
“I’m fine,” she managed at last. “I saw something—I touched it. I don’t know what it is, but I
need to get to it. I know that I can . . .”
Her teeth were chattering85, but she didn’t even feel the cold. Adrenaline had cloaked her in a
haze86 of numbness87, all her blood pulsing and hot. Preston kept his grip tight on her wrist.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, and with every passing second, she felt more certain. The beam of the flashlight
flickered89 against the stone walls, against the water, dappling the black surface with gold.
Effy slipped away from Preston, and for a moment she saw herself through his eyes, drowning
in increments90 as she retreated back down the steps, vanishing like a selkie beneath the waves.
It was nothing like swimming at the natatorium, where the water was clear and chemically
blue. This was a dense5 and exquisite91 darkness. Her body, too, was heavier now. She no longer had
the lightness of a child, all spindly limbs and easy faith. Her arms and legs felt so burdensome
now.
Effy pressed her left hand to the wall and kicked, the black shape materializing slowly, like
something moving under ice. She reached out and touched it again, trying to get a sense of its size.
Rotted, ancient wood fell away under her hand.
There was a low noise, a thrumming sound that seemed to come from the water itself, and Effy
remembered, suddenly, all the fairy tales that warned children away from the edges of oceans and
lakes. Kelpies, selkies, fairy women wrapped in seaweed who took you to the water and strangled
you with their long hair. Arethusa, the consort92 of the Fairy King, who seduced93 men with her
beauty and then drowned them while singing to cover up the sounds of their desperate, doomed94
thrashing.
A tense and terrible fear gripped her. She brushed her hand along the wood, quite sure now
that it was a shelf. She was as much a fool as the mariner95 in Myrddin’s poem—if it really was
Myrddin’s poem at all—who believed the only thing he had to fear was the might of the sea itself.
There were a thousand dark creatures in it. There were a thousand ways to drown.
Effy had once read, in one of those ancient tomes on the sixth floor of the library, about a
method of torture practiced in the south, in the pre-Drowning days. The victims were strapped96
down and forced to drink and drink and drink, until their stomachs burst, until their bodies gave
out from the weight of it all. The water cure, it was called. For days after she could not stop
imagining all those swollen97 bodies. Sometimes, she had read, the victim was forced to vomit98 up all
the water and then drink it down again.
Effy’s lungs were starting to burn.
Her fingers found the edge of something, something with a handle she could grasp. She tried to
pull but it was too heavy, and her chest felt close to bursting.
Yet somehow she knew that if she broke for the surface now, she would never have the
courage to return. So she let her left hand leave the wall, and used both hands to grasp the heavy
metal thing and pull.
She tried to swim for the surface, but the thing in her hands—feeling it now, she knew it was a
box—weighed her down. Panic loosed itself from her chest. She felt the cold, and the fear, the
awful fear that stilled her and pulled her down even farther. Her vision grew black at its edges.
Yet Preston had been wrong about her, in a way. Perhaps she realized it only now. Even
though she was afraid of living, she didn’t want to die. Effy was no architect, and she might never
be a storyteller, either, no heir to magic and myths and legends, but one thing she knew was
survival.
Effy escaped the water and surfaced into a world of stubborn light.
Her eyes were still filmy with blackness, so she couldn’t see Preston. But she felt him as he
grabbed her around the middle and hauled her up the stairs, both of them gasping and coughing,
and Effy spitting the fetid water out of her mouth.
They lay there for a moment, Effy clutching the box to her chest and Preston clutching her.
The water lapped tamely at their feet.
“I—I did it,” she stammered99, voice hoarse100. “I told you I could.”
“Effy,” Preston whispered, his breath warm against her ear. “Look.”
For a moment she wasn’t sure what he meant; her brain still felt waterlogged, churning like
surf break. Her numb88 fingers curled and uncurled around the edges of the rusted metal box that
now felt as if it was a part of her, a fifth limb.
A great daunting101 padlock jangled as she shifted. But printed at the top of the box, in steadfast102
black letters, was one word. A name.
Angharad.
The rain was falling in thick sheets as they stumbled down the path toward the guesthouse.
Wetherell’s car was gone, frantic103 tire tracks gouged104 in the deep mud of the driveway. All around
them, as the wind howled, there were the terrible twisting, wrenching105 sounds of branches being
stripped from trees, of leaves being blown away in great swirling106 gusts107.
Effy would have been afraid, but she was too busy concentrating on not freezing to death.
Layered under two coats—hers and Preston’s—she staggered through the mud, holding tight
to Preston’s arm. In his other arm, he held the metal box.
Effy was trembling all over, her vision blurring108 in the half-light, the shadows oily and slick
between the trees. For a moment she thought she saw him again, wet black hair flashing, bone
crown shining, but when she blinked it was gone. She felt no fear. Whatever was inside the box
was the truth, and it would vanquish109 the Fairy King for good. It would evict110 him from her mind. It
would chain him in the world of myth and magic, where he belonged.
Her own hair was stuck to her forehead and cheeks, freezing there like seaweed in slushy
water. Her numb legs trembled under her, and she was afraid that her knees might give out.
Somehow, without her speaking, Preston knew to hold on tighter. He hauled her up to the
threshold of the guesthouse.
As he rammed111 open the stone-and-iron door, a deadly tangle112 of branches blew by them.
Preston shut the door, muffling113 the horrible sound of the wind. He took out his lighter114 and went
around lighting115 the oil lamps and candles, while Effy stood there, clothes dripping onto the floor.
Everything felt very heavy, dreamlike.
She looked at the box, which Preston had set down on top of the desk, reading that word, that
name, over and over again. Angharad Angharad Angharad Angharad Angharad.
“I’m sorry,” Preston said, jolting116 her from her reverie. “There’s not much wood in the
fireplace, and I don’t think I can get more, since it’s so wet outside . . .”
He trailed off, looking despairing. Effy just blinked at him and said tonelessly, “It’s all right.”
“You should, um, take off your clothes.”
That, at last, made Effy’s heartbeat quicken, cheeks flooding with heat. Preston flushed, too,
and quickly added, “Not like that—I just mean, you’re soaking wet.”
“I know,” she said. She slipped out of his coat, then hers, letting them puddle34 on the floor.
Preston turned around, facing the wall, as she took off her wet top and wet skirt and wet
stockings. She dug through her trunk for the warmest sweater she could find and pulled it on. Then
she walked over and got under the covers, pulling the green duvet up to her chin.
Preston turned back around, face still pink. “That’s better.”
Yet still she felt so cold. She felt like she might never be warm again, even under the covers,
even with the four solid walls around her. She wanted to feel safe, anchored. She wanted to live in
a world where there were no antlered creatures outside, where there was no need for iron on the
door.
Was this the unreal world, or the real one? It all felt muddled now, like there was no longer a
rigid117 border between them. There was black water rising and she could barely keep her head above
the surface.
“The storm,” she managed. And then Effy could not think of what to say. Her mind was a
knotted sea net and foaming118 waves.
“It’ll be all right,” Preston said. His glasses were speckled with rainwater. “We can still make
it down to Saltney. You just need to get warm first.” He paused, lips quivering. “But you did it,
Effy. You really did it.”
She made a choked sound that she hoped sounded enough like a laugh. “Even if I lose a few
more fingers.”
Preston just ducked his head, as if he wanted to scold her but couldn’t. Preston, who had
delicately picked all the rocks from her wounded knees and washed away the blood, back when
they both still barely trusted each other. A surge of sudden, desperate affection swelled119 in her
chest.
“I should go back to the house,” he said. “We—”
“No,” Effy cut in, heart pounding. “Don’t.”
He frowned at her. “We still need to get the letters and the photographs.”
“Please,” she said. “Please don’t leave. I think I’ll die if you leave.”
She really meant it, right then and there, with the wind trying to tear through the door and no
way of knowing what was real and what wasn’t. He was the only thing that felt solid, stable, and
true. Without him she would slip under and never resurface.
Preston let out a soft breath. For a moment she thought he might leave anyway, and her heart
tumbled into the pit of her stomach.
But instead he moved toward her slowly, and sat down on the edge of the bed. His clothes
were wet, too. His shirt stuck to his skin, translucent120 with rainwater.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll stay.”
The heat of his body bled through the blankets. Effy sat up and inched closer. She rested her
chin on his shoulder very carefully, as if she were setting a glass down on a table and didn’t want
it to make a discordant121 sound.
She felt him breathing slowly, shoulders rising and falling. He turned his head toward her.
He kissed her, or she kissed him—it mattered only as much as it mattered whether the house
was sinking or the sea was rising. Once their lips touched, Effy could think of nothing else.
Preston took her face into his hands and, with exceptional gentleness, lowered her back down
onto the pillows.
They broke apart for a moment, Preston half on top of her now, propping122 himself up on his
elbows. A bit of water trickled123 down from the back of his neck, past his collarbone. He said, “Effy,
are you sure?”
She nodded. She wanted to say yes, but somehow the word got tangled124 up in her throat.
Instead she said, in a small voice, “I’ve never been with anyone before. I’ve kissed boys—and
then there was Master Corbenic, but that was just . . .”
“This won’t be anything like that, Effy. I promise. I’ll be kind to you.”
She believed him. It almost made her want to cry. Carefully she began to work at the buttons
on his shirt, baring his throat and then his chest, his abdomen125 and navel. She had never seen
someone stripped down like this before and she was momentarily stunned126 by the vitality127 of him—
the signs of life in every clench128 of muscle, every shift that made his bones move under his skin.
Effy couldn’t help but touch him all over, there and there and there, his rib69 cage and sternum
and, finally, the triangle of skin above his belt buckle129.
Preston shivered under her touch; she heard him swallow hard. His hands slid under her
sweater. “Can I?”
“Yes,” she said, finding the word at last.
He took her sweater by the hem18 and pulled it over her head. She was bare then, and he kissed
her again, softly dragging his mouth along her jawline, down her throat. Effy gave a quiet gasp as
his fingers found her breast, but he only moved his hand over it and held it, as if to protect her
from the coldness of the air.
Her own hands had stopped at his belt buckle, vexed130 by it, heart suddenly skipping beats. She
felt him again through his trousers, stiff and urgent. It thrilled her and scared her in equal measure.
She’d wanted him for so long, and now she knew—there was no doubt—that he wanted her back.
She managed at last to undo131 his belt and free him of his pants, and he lifted the covers and slid
into the bed beside her.
The only thing remaining between them was his glasses. She plucked them off his face and
laid them on the bedside table. He blinked at her, as though readjusting his eyes. Effy saw the two
little nicks winging the bridge of his nose and ran her thumb over them, feeling where the small
bits of metal had made his skin give way.
One corner of his mouth curved. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve always wondered if these hurt.”
“Not really,” he said. “Most of the time I don’t even notice. I wish I could see you more
clearly right now. But even blurry132 you’re so beautiful.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm. There was no cold left in her now at all. “Please be gentle.”
“Oh. I will. I swear it.” He shifted, slowly parting her thighs133.
There was a little bit of pain, but it was like a breath that was tightly held: it gave way to
seemingly infinite pleasure upon release.
She whimpered quietly into his shoulder, a sound that was half surprise, half surrender. The
yielding was easy when the assault was so tender. The land would never protest if the sea washed
over it with what could not be called anything else but affection.
They matched each other inhale for inhale, Preston’s mouth close to her ear. When his
breathing sped up, Effy could tell he was very close, but then he slowed again, strokes long and
deliberate.
“Don’t,” she whispered petulantly134 against his throat. “Don’t stop.”
“I just wanted to tell you,” he said, “when this is over, I’ll take care of you, too. If you want
me to.”
Effy closed her eyes, and even the blackness there behind them was bright with false stars. “I
do.”
When it was over, Effy lay beside Preston, both of them concealed135 by the green covers. She lay on
her belly136, he on his back, but they faced each other with their cheeks pressed against the pillows.
The four walls around them seemed impenetrable. Effy scarcely heard the rain at all.
“I don’t want to go back out there,” she said, in a tiny muffled137 voice. “Not ever.”
He didn’t ask if she meant back into the storm, or the house, or the world entirely138. “That
seems, unfortunately, impossible.”
“Why should I believe that? You can’t even see two feet in front of you.”
Preston laughed. “I’ll put my glasses back on if that gives me more credibility.”
“No. I like knowing more than you for once.”
“You know plenty of things that I don’t.” He brushed back a damp strand39 of hair from her
forehead. “There’s an Argantian saying about that, too, actually.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Ret eo anavezout a-raok karout. ‘One must know before loving.’”
It was such a terribly Preston thing to say that Effy almost laughed herself. He loved nothing
more than the truth, and she had loved nothing more than her imagined world. Somehow, in spite
of that, they had found each other.
“You Argantians are a very poetic139 people after all,” she said. “As much as Llyrian propaganda
would have us believe otherwise.”
“You told me I was smug.”
A smile tugged140 at her lips. “Well, some stereotypes141 have a bit of truth to them.”
Preston snorted. Effy shifted closer to him. She ran one gentle finger along the crook142 of his
elbow, just to see how he tensed and shivered. A sign of life, like tiny green shoots that grew up
stubbornly out of the hard winter earth.
In her peripheral143 vision, she could see the locked box.
“You’re right about one thing, though,” she said at last. “We will have to leave eventually.”
Preston must have heard the grief in her voice, the tremor144 of fear. He took her into his arms,
her naked back against his naked chest, her head tucked neatly145 under his chin. His heartbeat
sounded like the rhythm of a steady tide.
“The only reason anything matters is because it ends,” he says. “I wouldn’t hold you so tightly
now if I thought we could be here forever.”
“That makes me want to cry.” She wished he hadn’t said it.
“I know. It’s not the most original argument, and I’m hardly the first scholar to make it—that
the ephemerality of things is what gives them meaning. That things are only beautiful because they
don’t last. Full moons, flowers in bloom, you. But if any of that is evidence, I think it must be
true.”
“Some things are constant,” Effy said. “They must be. I think that’s why so many poets write
about the sea.”
“Maybe the idea of constancy is what’s actually terrifying. Fear of the sea is fear of the eternal
—because how can you win against something so enduring. So vast and so deep. Hm. You could
write a paper arguing that, at least in the context of Myrddin’s works. Well, it might have to be an
entire thesis.”
“Oh, stop it. You’re being so relentlessly146 you.”
She felt his laugh against her back, making them both tremble. “Sorry. I’ll be quiet now. I’m
so tired.”
“Me too.” Effy yawned. “But please go back to being you when I wake up. Don’t go
anywhere.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
As inevitably147 as the sea rose up against the cliffs, sleep washed over them both.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
treacherous
|
|
| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
condensation
|
|
| n.压缩，浓缩；凝结的水珠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
moss
|
|
| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
canopy
|
|
| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
dense
|
|
| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
densely
|
|
| ad.密集地；浓厚地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
jutted
|
|
| v.（使）突出( jut的过去式和过去分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
foam
|
|
| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
squinted
|
|
| 斜视( squint的过去式和过去分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
bleated
|
|
| v.（羊，小牛）叫( bleat的过去式和过去分词 )；哭诉；发出羊叫似的声音；轻声诉说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
yoked
|
|
| 结合（yoke的过去式形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
binds
|
|
| v.约束( bind的第三人称单数 )；装订；捆绑；（用长布条）缠绕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
fabric
|
|
| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
muddled
|
|
| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
lashes
|
|
| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
blurred
|
|
| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
spoke
|
|
| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
hem
|
|
| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
sodden
|
|
| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
wheedling
|
|
| v.骗取（某物），哄骗（某人干某事）( wheedle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
legacy
|
|
| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
hip
|
|
| n.臀部，髋；屋脊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
thigh
|
|
| n.大腿；股骨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
fabled
|
|
| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
groan
|
|
| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
perilously
|
|
| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
drenched
|
|
| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
murky
|
|
| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
hurl
|
|
| vt.猛投，力掷，声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
slung
|
|
| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
rusted
|
|
| v.（使）生锈( rust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
puddles
|
|
| n.水坑， （尤指道路上的）雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
puddle
|
|
| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sagging
|
|
| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
royalty
|
|
| n.皇家，皇族 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
testament
|
|
| n.遗嘱；证明 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
strand
|
|
| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
stranded
|
|
| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
miserable
|
|
| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
guilt
|
|
| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
contrition
|
|
| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
ripple
|
|
| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
droplets
|
|
| n.小滴( droplet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
shrug
|
|
| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
tug
|
|
| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
twitch
|
|
| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
strands
|
|
| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
fleck
|
|
| n.斑点，微粒 vt.使有斑点，使成斑驳 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
syllables
|
|
| n.音节( syllable的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
turbid
|
|
| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
nervously
|
|
| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
curtly
|
|
| adv.简短地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
crumbling
|
|
| adj.摇摇欲坠的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
oblivious
|
|
| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
rippled
|
|
| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
seethed
|
|
| （液体）沸腾( seethe的过去式和过去分词 )； 激动，大怒； 强压怒火； 生闷气(~with sth|~ at sth) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
unintelligible
|
|
| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
grafted
|
|
| 移植( graft的过去式和过去分词 )； 嫁接； 使（思想、制度等）成为（…的一部份）； 植根 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
illuminated
|
|
| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
engraving
|
|
| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
obliterated
|
|
| v.除去( obliterate的过去式和过去分词 )；涂去；擦掉；彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
tapered
|
|
| adj. 锥形的，尖削的，楔形的，渐缩的，斜的 动词taper的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
shrugged
|
|
| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
rib
|
|
| n.肋骨，肋状物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
sliver
|
|
| n.裂片，细片，梳毛；v.纵切，切成长片，剖开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
puff
|
|
| n.一口(气)；一阵(风)；v.喷气，喘气 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
extricated
|
|
| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
gasp
|
|
| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
sluggish
|
|
| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
algae
|
|
| n.水藻，海藻 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
crevices
|
|
| n.（尤指岩石的）裂缝，缺口( crevice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
crumbled
|
|
| （把…）弄碎， （使）碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 衰落； 坍塌； 损坏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
inhale
|
|
| v.吸入(气体等)，吸(烟) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
opaque
|
|
| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
inertia
|
|
| adj.惰性，惯性，懒惰，迟钝 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
gasping
|
|
| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
labored
|
|
| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
chattering
|
|
| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
numbness
|
|
| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
numb
|
|
| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
flickered
|
|
| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
increments
|
|
| n.增长( increment的名词复数 )；增量；增额；定期的加薪 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
exquisite
|
|
| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
consort
|
|
| v.相伴；结交 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
seduced
|
|
| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
doomed
|
|
| 命定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
mariner
|
|
| n.水手号不载人航天探测器，海员，航海者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
strapped
|
|
| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
swollen
|
|
| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
vomit
|
|
| v.呕吐，作呕；n.呕吐物，吐出物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
stammered
|
|
| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
daunting
|
|
| adj.使人畏缩的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
steadfast
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，不动摇的；忠实的；坚贞不移的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
frantic
|
|
| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
gouged
|
|
| v.凿( gouge的过去式和过去分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
wrenching
|
|
| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
swirling
|
|
| v.旋转，打旋( swirl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
gusts
|
|
| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
blurring
|
|
| n.模糊，斑点甚多，（图像的）混乱v.（使）变模糊( blur的现在分词 )；（使）难以区分 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
vanquish
|
|
| v.征服，战胜；克服；抑制 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
evict
|
|
| vt.驱逐，赶出，撵走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
rammed
|
|
| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
tangle
|
|
| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
muffling
|
|
| v.压抑，捂住( muffle的现在分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
lighter
|
|
| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
lighting
|
|
| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
jolting
|
|
| adj.令人震惊的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
rigid
|
|
| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
foaming
|
|
| adj.布满泡沫的；发泡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
swelled
|
|
| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
translucent
|
|
| adj.半透明的；透明的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
discordant
|
|
| adj.不调和的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
propping
|
|
| 支撑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
trickled
|
|
| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
tangled
|
|
| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
abdomen
|
|
| n.腹，下腹(胸部到腿部的部分) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
vitality
|
|
| n.活力，生命力，效力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
clench
|
|
| vt.捏紧（拳头等），咬紧（牙齿等），紧紧握住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
buckle
|
|
| n.扣子，带扣；v.把...扣住，由于压力而弯曲 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
vexed
|
|
| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
undo
|
|
| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
blurry
|
|
| adj.模糊的；污脏的，污斑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
thighs
|
|
| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
petulantly
|
|
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
belly
|
|
| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
muffled
|
|
| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
poetic
|
|
| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
tugged
|
|
| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
stereotypes
|
|
| n.老套，模式化的见解，有老一套固定想法的人( stereotype的名词复数 )v.把…模式化，使成陈规( stereotype的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
crook
|
|
| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
peripheral
|
|
| adj.周边的，外围的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
tremor
|
|
| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
neatly
|
|
| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
relentlessly
|
|
| adv.不屈不挠地；残酷地；不间断 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
inevitably
|
|
| adv.不可避免地；必然发生地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |