Focusing on the memory of Zennia—remembering the encouraging twitch of her lips, the lift of her eyebrows she’d always given me at Arbenhaw whenever I’d thrown her a panicked glance—I gripped my emotions as though I held them in my fist. The red ball sputtered and buckled inward, my panic tempering, my breath coming easier.
“Help us,” I said to the waves at our rear, opening my eyes. “Speed us onward.” As though in answer, one smacked the boat’s side. Whether it was a rebuff or a show of solidarity, I couldn’t tell—not until I feltthe current. It pushed against my hand, and then the boat’s hull, making the timbers creak beneath us.
At the same time our sails filled with a southerly squall, strong as a person pushing on my shoulders. Orran’s eyes were closed, his lips moving rapidly.
“There she blows!” came Avrix’s voice, joined by whoops from Emment and Catua.
We zipped along, water seething at the bow, but Morgen’s team was ahead of us—for now. They’d had a good start. Mawre’s winds were powerful, enough to make me marvel at how one Gustmouth could do it.
I eyed Ebba as I clambered back and steadied myself. Hard-faced, the Floodmouth muttered down into the foam, but the tautness of her features and the hunch in her spine told me she felt under as much pressure as I did. The bubbling ridges behind their boat weren’t quite as high, as insistent, as ours were, and I felt a brief surge of gratification—before squashing it and concentrating on the surf.
Bower Island was far from large; we’d already rounded its northern shoreline. The rocks were craggier, the clifftops higher, and I suddenly spotted a cluster of figures on a hillock to the east, pointing and waving. Tigo and Rhianne had been joined by other servants—I recognized the willowy outline of Miss Haney; Debry’s flapping skirts and white bonnet; even Ferda’s short, spry figure, hopping in excitement, graying hair wild.
“Is there any pastime superior to sailing?” called Avrix, who was still standing proudly at the bow. He’d raised one knee, had it braced on the prow like a navy captain, hands on his hips.
“I’d say so, if dice and drink are involved,” put in Emment, then, at a glare from Catua, “What?”
I had to admit, it was near to glorious. Clear, cloudless skies, a lukewarm sun, the bracing bluster of wind past my ears. To our left, aswe curled around the island’s east side, the open ocean stretched out like a blanket, shimmering, its wave tips winking bright white.
We’d left our spectators behind by now, the vast, dour castle hiding them from view. I expected they were hurrying back to the beach to watch our arrival and judge the winner.
I glanced to our right, at our shining twin vessel, and was thrilled to see we’d drawn almost level. Morgen, one arm hugging the mast, leaned toward Ebba and shouted something, her words disappearing amid the rushing spray. My eyes found Llir, who reclined at the stern, resting on bent elbows, hair whipping wildly. As we sliced through the water, he looked at our boat and caught my eye—
Just as a wave bumped us.
“Hoi!” yelled Emment, clinging to the gunwale.
“Cheaters!” Catua shrieked, teetering where she stood.
Vercha and Llir jumped to their feet for the finale. Ebba’s stern gaze was fixed on our hull, her lips forming words I couldn’t decipher. As we shot past the southern shoreline, with its low cliffs and beaches, I felt another heave, a precarious rocking.
“What did I tell you?” Avrix shouted. “Competitive, that one!” He saluted his sister.
We’d fallen behind again, only a few feet, but suddenly Avrix was looming above me. “Corith, isn’t it?” That sun-bright smile. “I think this calls for some…underhand tactics. Are you game?”
My wind-scoured face flushed uncomfortably, but within I felt an odd pull to comply. There was no doubt the Cormorant was charming to a fault, but I remembered, too, his warm manner in the culverhouse. And before that, how he’d saved me in the snug: admonishing his sister, redirecting her attention.
“I can do my best,” I said breathlessly, and Avrix clapped me gratefully on the shoulder.
Shifting, staring at the other team’s boat, I began to weave my own new pleas…
We’d rounded the rocks of the southeast headland, the distant mainland a shadow to our left, and now the shingle beach reappeared and the harbor beyond it, pestered by waves.
Tigo, Rhianne, and the others were there, hands cupped around their mouths, egging us onward.
The current propelling Morgen’s boat had turned scrappy. Distracted by sabotaging us, Ebba had neglected it, and its interest was clearly waning, its strength weakening. All it took me was a few choice entreaties, and their boat lagged behind, thudding in the water. At the same time, I gazed ahead of us and called to the waves that rolled past us to the beach. One rose high, responding with zeal—and knocked right into our rivals, jolting their boat.
Morgen clung on. Mawre ducked. But Ebba, who’d been perched on the gunwale, tumbled overboard with a splash. Vercha nearly lost her footing, arms pinwheeling, grasping for Llir. And to my horror, in the course of steadying his sister, Llir staggered backward—and went in himself.
The harbor, only fifty yards off, rang with the clamor of cheers and protests. Avrix was laughing, deep from his belly, the others exchanging bellows of blame. “You started it!” Catua was screeching, as Vercha cursed us, murder in her eyes.
It took us all a moment to realize that while Ebba had surfaced, Llir was nowhere to be seen. I froze where I stood, my eyes darting. Catua ran to the side of our vessel and leaned over—which turned out to be a grave mistake.
Her brother, who’d swum underwater to our boat, exploded upward, one arm on the shallow gunwale, hooked her around the waist, and hauled her toward him.
“It wasn’t me!” she screamed, but she was laughing. Just beforethey bombed into the bubbling water, Llir’s eyes flashed up and caught mine knowingly.
Our vessel had crossed the finish line and now bobbed close enough to the harbor for Tigo to throw lines and draw us in.
