He’s looking at me with such desperation that I need to tell him something. I didn’t get a chance to ask for a message.

“She said . . . you take very good care of her and to tell you thank you.”

“Oh,” he says, his posture straightening. “Well, that’s very nice.”

“I have to go,” I say. “Thanks for this.”

Then I start running.

“Wait!” Bain calls after me. “Where are you going?”

I barrel down the tunnel and into the throne room. About two dozen pools circle the perimeter, but I can’t tell which one Coral showed me—they all look kind of the same. I run between them, hoping a memory will spark.

Bain follows behind me as I spiral into panic, shoving everything I just learned into a pocket of my mind to deal with later. I need to find the ark and get out of here. “What are you doing?” he demands over and over as I continue to ignore him. “You cannot touch these!”

I drop into a pool, plunging my hands between the stones and coral. They scrape at my hands and knees, leaving hairline cuts. After I’m sure the ark isn’t there, I stand up and run to the next.

“Stop this,” Bain says, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “These are sacred!”

I plunge into the next one, splashing in the shallow water, hunting, searching in the sand and rocks. “Where is it?!”

“Where is what?” Bain asks. “If you don’t stop this, I’ll call the guards.”

That gets my attention.

“No, you can’t,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulders with my dripping hands. “Just give me another minute. Coral wanted me to do this.”

It’s not a lie. She did tell me where the ark was hiding.

“Did she?”

“Yes,” I say, running for the next pool, scattering crabs when my feet hit the sand. They nibble on my bare toes, and I hope they’re not toxic or something. My fingers bleed, and I wince at the sting of salt water while red clouds billow under the surface. Thunder booms overhead, setting my already stretched nerves on edge. When I was speaking to Coral, the entire world melted away, and I completely forgot about the storm.

Where is it?

Still nothing. With only a few pools left to search, I’m growing desperate. What if Coral was wrong? What if Cyan moved it? What if she was lying to me?

When I reach the next pool, my memory clicks, sure I recognize that pile with a long oval-shaped rock balancing on top. With a cry, I drop down to shift the stones, and then there it is. The ark lies half-buried in the sand, sparkling in the dimness.

“I found it!” I cry.

“Found what?” Bain asks, bending over with his hands pressed to his knees.

“This is what Coral wanted.”

Bain squints at it. “What is it?”