Bugger. It was too strong, she couldn’t reverse the whole current—there was too much water moving far too quickly. She could angle the flow where she needed and push tides to rise a little earlier, but this …

Her arm trembled, muscles shrieking, but she couldn’t just let him go. If he was pushing that hard, he had to be close to running out of breath … if he hadn’t already. The thought engulfed her, cold as the Albionic seas in winter—his face still, pale, eyes lifeless, staring on and on, just like …

She shook her head. Come on, Vice, you can do this.

She couldn’t counter the whole current, no, but maybe she could take a small section of it.

Teeth gritted, she narrowed her awareness on a thin trickle centred on that dark shape.

The rushing current pushed past but that one little stream—that held still under her gift. Better. She nodded.

Now to draw him closer.

Frowning so hard her brow hurt, she squeezed her other hand into a fist and pulled. Her muscles groaned, and her joints popped but—yes, he was a little larger, a few yards closer. He wasn’t moving. Her throat tightened.

Come on. More.

She willed and willed and willed, and her body shrieked, pain lancing through her limbs, bones creaking as if they were about to break. Her eyes stung—perhaps tears leaked from them and mingled with the salty sea, she couldn’t be sure.

Lungs burning for breath, she angled Knigh towards the reef. Just a few feet more.

Maybe he realised he was moving against the flow, escaping its pull, because he kicked once, twice, and then he was over the reef, out of the current, and swimming to the surface.

A last burst of air bubbling from her lips, Vice let go and the stream of water she’d held onto whipped away like a plummeting anchor rope. For a moment, all she could do was hang there, muscles scorched with exertion. But she needed to breathe, too. With a couple of feeble kicks, she drifted up, legs complaining all the while.

And then the air broke over her head, and she gulped it in greedily, its freshness so searing it made her whimper.

Knigh trod water a dozen feet away, gasping. His eyes and face were red—he must have been close to …

She swallowed and shook her head, pushing away the thought. He didn’t die. He was alive.

She scrubbed the stinging water from her eyes.

This wasn’t like Evered. She hadn’t led him to his death.

The breaths pumped through her, sharp and loud and a chill engulfed her.

It was fine. He was fine. Just a close call. Nodding, she flopped back and let herself float, staring at the clear sky.

That cold settled into her bones. She’d used too much energy.

“Vee?” he said, close. “Are you—”