He looked away from me, pacing between the reeds. “The length of immersion was decided by the operator and the crime of which the woman was accused. It could last for just a few seconds, but in some circumstances, the process was continuously repeated over the course of a day.”

He faced me. “Do you know the crimes the ducking stool was used for?”

I didn’t answer. I refused.

I made an oath not to scream. I refused to entertain them with my cries.

Kes came forward, answering on behalf of Jethro. “Most common crimes were prostitution and witchcraft. Scolds were also punished by this method.” His lips tilted. “Know what a scold is, Nila?”

I couldn’t stop my head from shaking.

Shit, I didn’t mean to react.

Jethro’s eyes narrowed, his chest rising sharply.

“A scold was a gossiper, shrew, or bad tempered woman,” Kes said.

Jethro glared at his brother. “Even though I have experience with your temper, Ms. Weaver, I cannot say you are a scold.” Running a hand through his hair, he finished, “Regardless, this is to show you how death by water can be one of the most frightening things of all. This is how my ancestor died. This is how you will pay.”

Snapping his fingers, Jethro ordered, “Turn your head. Look away.”

Another avalanche of fear tumbled through me. I couldn’t do this!

“Turn around, girl!” Cut snapped.

I don’t know how I did it, but I slowly resettled on the hard wooden seat, and tore my eyes from Jethro. The pond before me twinkled like cold jewels—blue and green and black.

My heart grew bigger and bigger in my chest until it filled every inch. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t blink.

Noise came from behind me; I had to fight every instinct to look.

Trust in Kes. He said they wouldn’t drown me.

Suddenly, the chair swooped upward. It went from being glued in the mud to flying high over the earth. I gasped, smashing my lips together to contain my scream.

No. No, no, no.

My fingers had nothing to hold onto. My wrists kissed the wood, held in place by tight leather. My legs couldn’t move. I was well and truly caught.

The ducking stool wobbled as whatever force held me up readjusted to my weight. The breeze was stronger up here, whistling over the water like tiny mournful flutes.

The view would’ve been idyllic with the weeping willows and ducks preening on the banks. But I was caught in my worst nightmare.

I didn’t want to see anymore.

Squeezing my eyes, I wished I’d been blindfolded. I didn’t want to witness what was to come.

Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open them.

Someone’s hands brushed against my ankles. A mechanism was locked then another swoop higher and higher sent my stomach splattering to my toes.

I’d been in theme parks before—I’d ridden a rollercoaster once in my life. Once was more than enough, even though V adored the loop de loop. I didn’t understand his joy of making himself dizzy when I lived that way every day.

I’d found no thrill in being bound to an uncomfortable ride, listening to the clack-clack of the rollercoaster wheels as we clawed our way higher up a mountain of track. Every clatter of the rails sent equal measures of panic and excitement…until we reached the top…and just hovered there.

We’d hovered like a bird, basking in being on top of the world.

That was where I hung now.

Gravity defying—a girl in a white dress suspended above a dark green pond. A girl who would’ve done anything to have been born a Smith or a Jones or a Kim.

And then the rollercoaster slipped from weightless to bullet, freefalling over the mountain and hurling me into terror.

I promised myself I wouldn’t scream.

It was a hard promise to keep.

The chair lost its support, leaving my belly above me as I fell and fell and fell.

Forever I fell, before splashing into frigid wetness.

The moment the water lapped around my ankles, I gave up trying to be brave.

The water slurped and sucked, devouring my legs in an instant.

The human part of me—the girl inside—was shoved aside by instinct and horror.

I squirmed, gasping louder and louder as the ice welcomed me, faster and faster. The wooden chair surrendered to the water, letting it lap its way almost seductively up my legs, over my waist, my breasts, my throat…my…

…mouth.

I arched my neck as best I could. I fought against the pond’s embrace.

I managed one last gulp of life.

Then, I disappeared.

I became a prisoner of the lake.

I promised myself I wouldn’t scream.

I lied.

The instant the water crashed over my head, I lost it.

Well and truly lost it.

My eyes flew open in the murky gloom and I screamed.

I screamed as if I would die. I screamed as if my body was being torn in two and eaten alive. I screamed as if this was the end.

Bubbles cascaded from my mouth, gifting all my oxygen to a passing trout in a riot of glistening froth.

I promised myself I would stay calm. That I would listen to Kes’s advice and get through this with complete trust, knowing that eventually I would be hoisted back up.

That was another lie.

I had no understanding of time.

Seconds were minutes and minutes were years.

I bobbed in a substance that would kill me with no way free.

It was enough to send me into insanity.

I didn’t care I could break an arm or leg fighting against the securely buckled straps. I didn’t care I could snap my neck by thrashing hopelessly in the chair. And I definitely didn’t care I could break my mind by letting the horror of being drowned consume me.