Time felt like it slowed. Everything happened all at once.

A wave of ice rushed out from the boat on both sides. It crashed against the base of the archway, racing up like a pack of wolves on

the hunt. The ice encompassed the falling stone and portcullis—freezing the latter in place, halting any drop. It packed so thickly that the top of the ship’s rigging scraped against it as the boat continued to drift under.

But the vessel lost speed at the same time as Eira’s descent slowed. An updraft rushed underneath her. She flipped in the air, arms flailing, as though she could somehow swim on the currents. The wind adjusted itself, trying to catch her—to pad her fall.

Cullen.

His magic shivered across her skin. It was a phantom feeling—the return of a familiar friend that she once knew well. All those afternoons working together. All those times it had tangled with her fingertips…

Eira twisted, putting her feet down and crossing her arms over her chest. He’d slowed her enough that she could get control of her fall. Eira was like an arrow breaking the surface of the water, plunging deep into the cold depths from the momentum. The chill tried to steal the air from her lungs. Eira clamped her jaw closed so she didn’t let out a gasp.

As soon as she slowed, she began pumping her legs and pulling herself upward. Even without her magic, she was a strong swimmer. Being in the water—in the sea—was a natural state. It was as if her magic whispered from the recesses of her consciousness like a long-forgotten memory. A calling that beckoned like the pull of the tides.

The sensation was so strong that it gave her pause. Eira lingered, suspended in the chilling waters. She allowed the currents to envelop her, the cold to hold her. Magic flashed. The boat churned frothy waves. Rain thundered. And the sea stretched endlessly around her, encompassing every nightmarish memory of Marcus’s death…and every hope she’d ever held.

Her power was her savior, but also her demise. It could do whatever she needed but never everything she wanted. And it was so close that she could almost—Eira stretched out a hand, reaching toward nothing but blind hope

—touch it.

Out of nowhere, a rope whipped through the water as though it were alive. It wrapped itself around her waist and chest. She was pulled upward, her focus shattered. Eira let out an involuntary cry of frustration as she was plucked from under the surface and pulled onto the boat by the sentient rope. Eira coughed and sputtered, gasping for air.

The deck was utter chaos. “We have to move!” “Trying to!”

“They have a hook on us!” “Get it off!”

“Wind to the sails!”

It was impossible to tell who was saying what. Eira propped herself up, looking to thank Alyss for the help. But her friend had already run off to the front of the vessel. Across from her was Yonlin, kneeling beside Olivin as Crow attempted to resuscitate the elfin man. Others were wounded and bleeding. The battle had more than taken its toll and, for the first time, Eira conceded with panic that they might not all make it out alive.

But amid all the chaos was a lone, calm, stoic figure. Adela stood with arms hoisted high, trembling, as though she were physically bearing the weight of the entire portcullis and shattered archway above them. Eira could almost sense the immense power radiating off her. The notion was certainly a fabrication of her mind—she knew Adela was exuding a lot of magic so she was telling herself that she could feel it.

Eira found her feet. The calls and shouts were a blur as she crossed to the pirate queen. This close, Eira could see every line of strain knitted between her brows as she focused.

“I’m a bit busy,” Adela forced through clenched teeth. Wordlessly, Eira rested a hand on Adela’s shoulder, standing just off to her side. “Girl—”

“Focus on your magic.” Eira closed her eyes. Was it merely a fabrication of her tired mind, or could she really feel Adela’s power? It was so much like her own…surely…

Wind dried the seawater on her face as Cullen forced another gust into the creaking rigging. Its sensation was slightly different. A new pull. The same shiver as when she had been falling. She knew him and his magic better than any other.

Currents were brewing within her. Churning. Calling.

Usually, to restore a sorcerer’s magic, a Waterrunner would use a vessel of stored magic to guide the power back to their channel, reopening the flow. That was what Adela had been trying to do. She had been attempting to use herself as the vessel and the Waterrunner, guiding her magic into Eira, trying to pull her channel open.

But perhaps it needed to be a push. Eira needed to reach out to the power. She needed to be the Waterrunner and guide. She needed to know what to reach for.

“Cullen, do it again,” Eira commanded. His eyes turned to her, confused and questioning. “The push of air.”

He did it without asking for why.

Eira inhaled deeply as a gust of wind buffeted her face. That was what magic felt like. Hold it, reach for it.

The ship began to move once more. There were more shouts. Then, a burst of light.

Adela staggered back just as Eira’s palm met her. Eira’s eyes snapped open in time to see the fading glow of a light-spun arrow and a burst of blood. The pirate queen fell to a knee, her flesh-and-bone leg giving out. A grunt of pain escaped her clenched jaw, nearly drowned out by the cracking of ice above.

“Adela!” Crow shouted from across the deck.

“Get us out of here!” Adela snapped, pain marring her voice and arms continuing to tremble.

Eira was on her knees, pressing her hands into either side of Adela’s upper stomach, where the arrow had pierced straight through. “We’re almost free.” But as soon as Eira said as much, the ship lurched, almost keeling over.

“Bastards!” Ducot shouted. He and Alyss were running. Eira looked ahead.

They were so close. The sea was right there… But with hooks in the hull and magic on the sails, the Pillars tried to keep calling them back. A sheet of ice spread across the water, encompassing the boat. Adela dropped her icy hand and fused it with the vessel. The frost trying to claim them cracked.

“Girl.” Adela swayed slightly. “There’s something I need to ask of you.” “Ask me when we’re out of here.”

“There’s a score on Carsovia I want you to settle for me…find… Salveus…”

“Find him yourself.” Eira pushed harder on Adela’s wounds. For as legendary as the pirate queen was, as mysterious her providence, Adela was still just a woman. A mortal woman of flesh and bone. Of blood that could be lost. “We’re making it out of here, together.”

Closing her eyes, fingers slick and warm with Adela’s blood, Eira reached out with her mind. The power was there. If not her own, then Adela’s. She just had to find it—to connect with it.

“Eira.” Cullen’s soft voice was at her side. “What do you need?”

She met his eyes, holding them, searching, silently begging for everything she didn’t think he could give. “Open your channel to me,” Eira whispered. “Like you did then.”

With a solemn nod, Cullen let his eyes flutter closed. The sails filled with wind. The boat strained against all that was holding it back. Eira leaned into him, as if, by touching him, she could find the channel she’d hunted for during the weeks of the competition. Her fingers were hot with blood. Frost chilled the air around them.

Eira reached out…and held her breath. Like a bolt of lightning on a nighttime sea, a surge shot through her.

Open. Eira willed it for Adela. If not for herself, then to allow the pirate queen to access the unfathomable depths of her power.

Adela straightened slightly. The trembling in her body lessened. Ice coated her wounds, fusing with Eira’s fingers.

A mighty shattering had Eira’s eyes snapping open. But it wasn’t from the ice overhead. That was as thick as ever. Instead, the ice that had been trying to hold back the boat exploded under an up-churning of currents. It splintered, fragmenting into thousands of pieces that fell like snow.

“Eira.” Adela had never said her name with such warmth. “Help me guide us out of here. The Stormfrost is not far.”

Freeing her left hand from Adela’s front, Eira slowly lifted her palm. The rain slowed around her fingertips, hovering midair. Currents churned within her, breaking up the internal ice that had held her in stasis. Power tingled from the middle of her chest, radiating outward. It danced like the snow with the rain.

She could feel every drop of water. Every lap of the sea against the hull of the boat. The world was hers once more and she welcomed it with open arms.

The boat lurched forward and half the deck staggered; some of the crew fell to their knees. They began to speed ahead only to be pulled back with a sudden jerk. Through the changes in the rain, Eira could feel the last hook pulled taut on their stern.

“Go,” Adela encouraged. “I’ll be fine.”

Eira didn’t object or fight. She pulled her hand from Adela’s and eased away from Cullen to run over to Noelle, helping her friend up. Noelle’s right side was coated in small cuts and shrapnel. Whatever battle they had endured while Eira was working on the portcullis was severe indeed.

But there was no time to waste. “I need you.” “Good to see you,” Noelle said sincerely.

Eira smiled and nodded, heading toward the back of the boat. Noelle’s injuries either weren’t that severe, or she was doing an incredible job of working through the pain. Unfortunately, Eira’s gut leaned toward the latter.

None of them were escaping this without scars.

They reached the back of the boat in time to see the Pillars and guards readying another hook and chain. While Eira had been getting Noelle, she’d turned the rain hammering the chain holding them into a thick layer of ice.

“As soon as I shatter the ice, blast as much fire as you can—just past the boat, where the flames won’t catch us,” Eira instructed. Noelle shifted her feet, bracing herself. “Ready?” Noelle nodded. “Now!”

Eira swept a hand through the air, savoring the way the ice turned to water instantly, dropping off the chain. A ball of fire exploded. White hot. All the water and rain evaporated and the metal groaned, snapping from the sudden change in temperature.

The moment they were free of the tether, Eira shifted her magic and her focus. The sea rose to push them along the crest of a mighty wave of Eira’s making. They were well out of reach of the other hook as it flew toward them.

Ducot and Alyss ran over, working on patching the ship. At this point, it was probably held together more by sorcery than construction. But all that mattered was that they were still afloat.

The ice that had been holding up the portcullis and archway finally shattered. It all came crumbling down, crashing into the sea and sending more waves that helped them slip farther and farther into the dark night.

Eira’s breath hitched. She grabbed Alyss’s elbow. “Adela is hurt.”