Prison Princess

I’d like to wash off before meeting my parents.”
“We don’t have time—”
“You want your money’s worth, right?” I asked, taking a step off the path and toward the sound of the running water. “Do you think my parents will give you the full bounty when they see the state I’m in? I have dried blood on my head, dirt on my knees, and I’m pretty sure I stink. There isn’t much to do with the clothes, but I’d like to, at the very least, rinse off.”
“We don’t have time. Your parents won’t care, Princess. They want you alive, not pretty.”
I rolled my eyes and continued to walk toward the sound of the rushing water.
“Princess, I said no.”
Yep, he had. And that had only pissed me off more. With nothing in mind except getting clean and away from his condescending tone, I ran for the water. My feet hurt. I wasn’t going to tell him that, but the running definitely laid the truth of just how sore they were in the forefront.
Still, it didn’t stop me. I wanted to get clean, and he wasn’t going to get in my way about it. I might not have cared quite this much if he hadn’t been such an ass about it. When it came down to it, if he’d told me not to grow wings and fly away, I might have figured out how to grow them just for the sake of telling him to screw off.
“Layne,” he called after me. “Don’t get in that water.”
Yep, I was getting in it. I’d never had freedom like this, and who knew what my life was going to be like once I got to my parents. What did it mean to be a princess? But just for this one moment, I was going to fucking run into that water because I could. No guards to nearly rape me. No warden to sneer. No psycho prison doctor to poke me with needles while staring at me with mean eyes. No fake, temporary friends to hate and betray me.
I kicked off my boots and threw my shirt over my head, far enough back they wouldn’t get wet. With every ounce of my newfound happiness at just saying fuck it to the world, I launched myself into that water. It was cold, freezing really. And glorious.
“Layne,” he screamed as I surfaced once and went back under.
I actually knew how to swim. For a very temporary amount of time, there had been a pool at the prison. It had seemed like cruel and unusual punishment to make the water nymphs who could live on land for brief periods of time exist like that for years at a time. So they’d brought in a pool. One of the guards who was too kind to survive in the prison for very long had taught me to swim.
I wasn’t great at it, but I knew how.
“Layne,” Cypress shouted again. “Get out of there. Now.” He was out of breath and had a look in his eyes I hadn’t seen yet on him. What was wrong? Couldn’t he swim?
He put out his hand. “Now. Okay? Get out of that water, now.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lemme wash you off of me,” I replied.
Or at least, I tried to. The moment those words escaped my lips, I was pulled completely under. Bubbles of air escaped my mouth, and I thrashed my body to try and escape. Something hard and strong had grabbed hold of my ankle and was dragging me down to the bottom of the forceful river. I knew better than to scream. I had no air. My eyes burned as I searched through the murky water for what was trying to drown me, but all I saw were forest green scales and a flash of sharp teeth.
Above me, something dove into the water. Cypress. I reached up for his outstretched hand while staring at the knife he clutched between his pearly white teeth. The river was both loud and quiet. Our movements slowed from the water, and music hit my skull.
I recognized the sound. It was a water dragon. The warden kept one locked up in an underground pool near my prison block.
Cypress swam past me with impossible speed, as if propelled by magic. He went to my ankle and cut the sticky appendage of the creature drowning me. The moment I was free, I fought to swim to the surface, pausing only to watch Cypress come face-to-face with a creature the size of a horse.
It had fins and dark scaly skin. Its eyes were as big as my fist, and the razor sharp teeth sticking out of its thin lips were pointed like the peaks of a pencil. It looked strong. It looked pissed as hell.
I shot my hand forward, a vine releasing from my wrist. It struck the dragon in the face, which must have wounded the creature, because it reared back, giving Cypress enough of a moment to strike it again. And again. And again. I watched, water dripping down my face, my mouth hanging open as I actually got to see Cypress do what he had been trained to do. Assassinate. This was different than it had been with the assassins. He’d made me a tree and left me there. Now, I was here to watch him execute his skills in precision and with intent. It was impressive as hell.
Finally, the dragon died. Cypress flung himself off the now dead creature and swam toward me, pulling us both fully onto the shore. He was bleeding. In a lot of different places.
“Layne, are you okay?” His voice was hoarse. Had he been screaming? I couldn’t remember.
“I am. But you’re not.” I got myself to my feet. My knee hurt, and I was sure I was cut up. I didn’t care. Cypress was really hurt. He might not be feeling it yet, but he would be. I knew that about pain.
My hands tingled, and I wasn’t sure how I knew what