Starsinger

Stranded

Delia slept. After she tapped into Sapphire's lifeforce, she barely had the wherewithal to send her message to Neal. The flash had blinded them all and in their panic they'd nearly overturned the boat, but the hull stayed intact. It was just light, Delia explained. Nothing to be afraid of.

"I must have miscalculated," she murmured, dazed and blinking furiously. "I only meant to siphon a little." Then she passed out with her head lolling in the crook of Jace's arm.

"Just hope the spell worked," Raelyn grumbled. Then she glanced up at the night sky, black and pricked with stars. Tentatively, she raised her hands and began to pray.

Sapphire sat very still, holding her knees to her chest for hours afterwards. Aaron slid forward on the narrow bench of the boat, letting his legs press up against her back, warming her as much as he could without making it clear he was trying to.

They rowed through the night and by day they could see the island no more. It was a small mercy. Aaron kept his eyes peeled on the horizon, dreading the appearance of the Bloodhound.

They rationed the water. It kept them alive, and thirsty. When Delia woke, she talked about spells to catch fish and desalinate ocean water before slipping back into a deep, dreamless slumber.

"It'll be a long time before she can cast so much as a heat spell." Raelyn shook her head. "She stretched her limits. Dangerously."

After that, Raelyn was mostly quiet. The sharp tongue she'd used to chide them during their escape seemed to disappear.

Once while Aaron dozed, he was woken by quiet sobs in the night.

"Please," he heard Raelyn's wet whisper. "I'm more afraid than I've ever been. When is it enough?"

When the sun rose, her eyes were dry. Aaron said nothing.

Jace's bruises were transitioning from purple to a sickly yellowish-green, and his nose was healing at an angle he optimistically described as "jaunty." He allowed Delia to use his arms and thighs as pillows until the pain of his fractured rib became too much to bear. Then he switched places with Raelyn, the princess stroking Delia's hair soothingly as Jace did his best to lie straight in the cramped boat.

Aaron tried not to think. His head was too full of questions. He tried not to stare at Sapphire.

She was dead for such a short time, he thought distractedly. But still, every time he woke and saw her breathing he wanted to leap out of his skin with joy. It was uncomfortably incongruous with the gnawing anxiety of being caught, sinking, or starving that Aaron wrestled with every hour.

On the third morning Aaron woke to the dawn, and a smudge on the horizon.

"Ship!" he cried, pointing.

Everyone stirred. They spent the next two hours watching the smudge grow into a ship as it inched perilously closer. Come to save us or sink us? Slowly the dark wooden hull took shape, along with the two tall masts and great triangular sails. The gold smear of paint was still too far for him to make out the letters, but Aaron knew they spelled Snapping Drake.

It was midafternoon when they started hearing the call of voices from up on deck, shouting back and forth about the jib and rigging. It felt like a homecoming. No one called down to the hapless rowboat, but still the Drake made steadily for them. A rope ladder dropped from over the side of the ship. Aaron and Raelyn pushed hard with their oars to get close enough.

Sapphire snatched the ladder from the air. She held tight as Raelyn grabbed hold and started to climb. Jace and then Delia followed her up, moving slowly to avoid stressing their different injuries.

Sapphire raised her eyebrows at Aaron, but he shook his head. "You next."

"Suit yourself."

Aaron grabbed hold of the swaying rope as Sapphire pulled herself up. He tried to ignore the sheer precariousness of his position, bobbing over the ocean waves in an empty rowboat, clinging to a ladder thrown from a still-moving ship. He cursed under his breath and hoisted himself up, letting the fishing boat slide away from him.

He clutched at the rope ladder like a babe to its mother. He was thirsty and underfed, and every part of him was either sore or stiff. Still he grinned like a madman as he climbed towards the deck. At last.

He reached the railing and launched himself clumsily over it, tumbling to the hard deck. His groan turned into a broken laugh and he rose to brush himself off.

Katrina stood before him, black hair billowing and murder in her eyes, her sword pointed at his throat.