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While the response wasn’t actually in any language I would normally understand, the magic that allowed this sort of communication also translated for both of us.

Need help to shore.

Her large white fin broke the surface again as she swam around me. Studying me. Judging me.

Can’t take all way. Shallows kill.

Close will be good.

She was silent for a moment.Weapons carry?

Will not hurt you.

Eat you if do.

I had no doubt about that. And, in truth, while my sword could easily slice through her flesh, there was no way known I could draw, let alone use, it in these seas. Not before the white-fin’s sharp teeth sawed me in half, at any rate.

I promise no harm.

She had no reason to believe me. Not given how hunted her kind were by mine. And yet, I wasn’t surprised when she assented. In my experience, animals of all kinds were far more trustingandtrustworthy than humans.

Hold, she said, and broke the surface next to me.

I locked my hands around her dorsal fin and held on tight. She surged forward, undulating through the water, dragging me along easily despite the storm and the fact she preferred the depths to the surface.

What followed was a long and arduous nightmare. I lost my grip more than once, but she always circled around to collect me. My body became numb, and my teeth chattered so hard my jaw ached. I used just enough inner flame to keep frostbite from my extremities, but dared not do anything more. Aside from the fact it would scare my helper, the heat was better kept for when I reached dry land.

IfI reached dry land.

I had no idea how much time had passed before the change of sound in the crashing of the waves intruded on my consciousness. I looked past her dorsal and saw a faint ribbon of white—sea foam washing up onto a shoreline.

No farther,she said.Shallows ahead.

I released her fin and slipped away from her sleek body.Thank you for your assistance. Keep safe.

Only safe if yours no hunt.

And with that, she turned and disappeared under the sea. I resolutely headed for the shore. I wasn’t a great swimmer, and it turned out to be a whole lot farther than it first appeared. By the time the waves inelegantly tossed me onto the stony beach, I was shaking with exhaustion and so damn cold I could barely move.

Somehow, I crawled away from the reach of the waves, then drew my knees to my chest and hugged them close as I called to the inner fires. Though it was tempting to go full flame, I knew enough about frostbite to resist the urge. Instead, I pushed the heat out cautiously, warming my body so slowly that my teeth continued to chatter long into the night. The wind didn’t help matters—it spun around me, stiffening my clothes and sheeting them with ice. Medical wisdom suggested stripping off, but I didn’t have anything else to wrap myself in, and there wasn’t anything along this forsaken shoreline to use.

Nothing except the occasional scrap of bleached wood that spoke of all the other ships that had found their death in these waters.

The inner heat eventually chased numbness from my limbs, and the shivering eased, even if it didn’t completely stop. I pushed to my feet, my still-wet leathers clinging like a second skin. I eked out a little more heat in an effort to dry them, then resolutely walked up the beach. Yellowed razor grass lined the ridge above me, defining the end of the sand and the beginning of whatever lay beyond. I scrambled up the slope, my feet slipping on the uneven ground, my fingers brushing the stones as I fought for balance. By the time I reached the ridge, my breath was a harsh rasp and my legs burned. I was fit—as a soldier you had to be, even if skirmishes with the Mareritt were currently few and far between—but right now I felt weaker than a babe.

The land beyond the top of the ridge was flat and empty. The only signs of life were the thick patches of razor grass and the bones of old trees. There was absolutely nothing here that gave any clue as to where I was. I turned back to the sea. The shoreline stretched on endlessly to my left. To my right, distant and vague, were the jagged edges of a mountain range. It had to be the Black Glass Mountains, but the angle was very different to anything I’d seen previously. Which meant I was on the edge of—or, more likely, given how distant those mountains looked—deep within the boundaries of Mareritten.

I swore and thrust a hand through the tangled mess of my hair, my fingers tearing into multiple knots. I shook the dark strands free and watched the wind sweep them away. I couldn’t help but wish it would grant me the same sort of lift—if nothing else, it would make getting home a little faster.

After another look at the surrounding desolation, I slid back down to the beach. Walking on soft sand might be more arduous than keeping to the flatter ground along the ridge, but I had no idea how well guarded these lands were. No idea what sort of traps the Mareritt might have set for the unwary. Of course, the beach might prove no safer in that regard, but I was betting their dislike of the sea made it less likely for traps to be set here.

Resolutely, I set off for the distant, shadowy mountains. Until I got closer, I wouldn’t be able to call either Veri or Desta to me, and they were my only real hope of rescue. My mother would know something was wrong the minute the ship didn’t dock on time, and she’d no doubt attempt to find me via the tracer stone I still wore.

But tracer stones, like the scribe pens, were a product of magic and notoriously unreliable range-wise, and if Iwasdeep within Mareritten territory, well, there was no way any receiver, no matter how powerful, would find me.

The storm eased as the night wore on, though the chill remained. The wind remained blustery and uneven, one minute throwing me sideways, the next chasing my heels and hastening my steps along the sandy shore.

Dawn’s pale pink fingers were seeping across the distant horizon when I made my first attempt to reach either Veri or Desta.