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I waketo a whirring hum as the boat skims across the water. Wind whips around my body, freezing cold against my wet clothes and skin.

But the uncomfortable temperature isn’t what woke me. I draw in a breath through my teeth as intense pain travels from my calf and up my leg.

“Sorry,” Pranmore apologizes, his face lit by the dim glow of his healing magic. “It’s going to hurt a bit. The ralnauth tore your flesh to shreds. To be honest, you’re lucky you didn’t lose your foot.”

Disoriented, I take a moment to get my bearings. I’m stretched across the length of the small boat, draped over and around my companions in the tight quarters.

Gentle fingers brush over my forehead, and when I look up, I find Clover above me. My head is in her lap, and her hair and clothes are as wet as mine.

“Are you okay?” I ask raggedly.

She smiles, looking worried. “I think I should be asking you that.”

Before I can respond, the pain intensifies, making me wonder if the healer decided to rip the flesh from my bones and start fresh.

I arch my back, fisting my hands, unable to pretend it doesn’t feel like he’s sawing off my leg.

“Can’t you numb the area?” Clover demands.

“I tried to knock him out,” Pranmore says. “There’s not much else I can do. An injury this extensive is going to hurt. There’s no helping it.”

“Look at the bright side,” Ayan says. “At least he didn’t lose his boot.”

I’m not sure who hits him, but there’s a thump, and then the High Vale mutters a complaint.

“Do you think the gnomes are all right?” Bartholomew asks quietly.

The boat goes silent.

“Oh, they’re fine,” Ayan finally says. “They’re a scrappy lot.”

“Who’s navigating?” I ask raggedly, realizing that Pranmore must no longer be steering us through the marsh if he’s tending my injury.

“I am,” Lawrence says.

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Not the slightest idea.”

I grunt, not sure the prince is a much better captain than our healer.

“You owe me, by the way,” Lawrence says smugly. “I saved you.”

For a moment, I wonder if I would have rather died.

But I can’t ponder it for long. The pain proves to be too great, and I fall unconscious once more. I drift in and out until I finally wake to the light of early dawn.

Though I’m stiff from the uncomfortable quarters, my leg no longer hurts. My head still rests in Clover’s lap, and she’s leaned to the side and folded over me to sleep against my chest. Her arms pillow her head, and her cheek rests upon her hands. Her hair seems to have dried overnight, and the brackish water left it wavy.

Transfixed by the sight of her, I brush my knuckle over her cheek. Her lips are deep pink, and her skin has a healthy glow, even in sleep.

She stirs, softly pressing her lips together, and I pull my hand back.

In front of us, Bartholomew is asleep as well. He sits on the floor between benches, arms wrapped around his legs, his chin propped up on his knees. Everyone else is awake. They look bleary-eyed as they stare at our foreign green surroundings.

The boat continues to cut through the water, though who knows how much longer the energy crystals will hold out. I know little about these kinds of Vallen creations.