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Finally the ropes loosened, and Brighton stood and shoved the boat into the water. Marin splashed into it, and the boat rocked as she settled into the seat.

Brighton clambered in with a huff of effort. The young soldier pushed the boat farther into the water and hauled himself in.

“I can…” Brighton started.

“Let me, sir,” said the soldier firmly. He took the oars in both hands and turned the boat, then rowed out toward the place where Kaerius and Ralph had fallen.

Brighton closed his eyes for a moment against the blinding sunlight reflecting off the waves; the light felt like waves ofpain in his throbbing head. He swallowed bile again and forced himself to focus on Marin’s pale face. She stood in the boat, her eyes searching the waves.

“There!”

From this distance, the cloud of blood in the water was only a faint, dark shadow. No other sign of either body was visible, but the soldier turned the bow of the skiff and rowed vigorously as the princess pointed.

They slowed as they drew closer, and Brighton stood with Marin to search the water.

“I don’t see him,” Marin said. “A little farther, please.”

A great swirl of water spun the boat around as if it were a feather, and Marin caught a glimpse of something huge deep beneath the water, with tentacles as wide as Brighton was tall.

“What was that?” whispered the soldier. “Sir, we need to…”

“Wait,” Brighton said sharply. “What is that there?”

Something floated slowly upward from the tangle of suckers and death.

No, two somethings. Two bodies.

A tentacle unfurled beneath them and pushed one of the bodies upward, leaving a cloud of red as it rose.

Brighton jumped into the water and swam down, his eyes stinging. The water was so cold he felt his movements slowing, but he continued downward until his ears throbbed and his lungs screamed for air.

There! Kaerius floated in the water, eyes half-closed, and the water beneath him was dark with blood.

With no breath left, Brighton grabbed Kaerius’s hand and swam to the surface, tugging the broken body behind him. His soaked clothes and boots drew him downward inexorably, and he kicked off his boots with panicked strength.

A moment later, there was someone else in the water with him. Just when Brighton thought he could not hold his breatha moment longer, they finally reached the surface. The young soldier had jumped in only a moment after Brighton, and though he was not plagued by Brighton’s excruciating headache, he was not as strong a swimmer as the older man. Still, he had thought to help his commander, and he’d had the presence of mind to kick off his boots and remove his jacket and shirt before jumping in.

“Help me get him in the boat,” Brighton gasped.

The princess leaned over and gripped Kaerius’s shoulders, preventing him from sinking again while the soldier hauled himself into the skiff from the other side, so they wouldn’t capsize.

Marin wept, her sobs soft and broken.

Kaerius’s head sagged backward, and his arms and legs drifted slowly beneath the hull as the wind caught the skiff and pushed it slightly toward shore.

“He’s breathing!” Marin gasped.

Brighton was shivering violently, and he whispered, “Marin,” and then stopped, because what was there to say?

He had seen the crushed mess of the back of Kaerius’s head; he had felt the ends of broken ribs in his friend’s back. Blood and water filled Kaerius’s mouth.

“Sir, let me help you up,” said the young soldier. “You’ve been in the cold too long already.”

“I don’t want to lose you too,” Marin gasped, and she offered her small hand to Brighton as the soldier helped him clamber over the gunwale. Even for someone of Brighton’s strength and determination, this was exhausting, for the cold had stolen his strength and his soaked clothes pulled him down like weights.

Once he was in the boat, Brighton would have fallen completely into the darkness but for the young soldier’s quiet, urgent insistence that he strip off his soaked shirt and jacket and put on the younger man’s dry wool jacket. It didn’t quitefit, but he held it closed with shaking hands. The younger man dried himself off with his own shirt and then sat bare-chested, shivering in the icy wind.

Were there tears on Brighton’s cheeks? Perhaps it was only the seawater. “Marin, he’s gone.”