She drew on the inferno within her, feeding the flame, calling forth the silver fire and then releasing it through her body time and time again. Meanwhile, as the captain called them to greater efforts, the oarsmen were pulling at the sea, oars churning the water into foam, wide eyes on the woman in their midst.

‘Remember, lads!’ called the captain, a veteran sailor with a round, bright-red face. ‘These raiders have captured a lady of Phalesia, the future wife of our king! Pull hard and you’ll all be rewarded!’ He crossed the deck to speak to the complement of twelve Phalesian hoplites, sourced at the last minute from Amos. ‘Men, keep your spears and swords close. If we catch ’em, we can’t allow harm to come to the lady. Our faith is in you.’

Chloe felt the encroaching grip of fatigue, but she used her anger and determination to keep going. The people they were trying to catch had killed Isobel’s father in cold blood, as well as High Priestess Marina. They’d beaten Sophia, and almost killed her too. They now had the mother of Dion’s unborn child, and the gods only knew what they intended to do with her. She forced herself to remember Dion’s excitement about becoming a father. After experiencing terrible darkness in his life, he had a chance to become truly happy. Whoever these people were, they couldn’t take that away from him.

She’d been sailing for two days now, and after her experiences at Athos, Chloe had become skilled at controlling the wind. The magi would be proud of her – if they ever forgave her for leaving. The glossy twist on her wind staff was showing only the slightest discoloration, and the color of the flame inside her was purest silver, with no taint to it at all. They’d long ago left Phalesia and then the island of Orius in their wake.

‘Sail ho!’ a youth standing at the bow called out.

The disciplined oarsmen continued to row, but everyone now tensed and looked to the captain. Some of the soldiers stood, unsteady on their feet as they shielded their eyes from the glare of the sun.

‘What ship?’

‘A small vessel,’ the lookout replied. ‘Single sail. We’re gaining on them!’

Chloe called on more of the fire raging inside, feeling it surge, channeled into her hand and released through the staff. The mast creaked as the vessel picked up still more speed. She glanced behind her to see the helmsman change their course, and now when she peered ahead, along with the crew she saw a triangular sail. Soon she could make out figures on the deck.