Broken, half decayed, sodden, this boat wouldn’t stay afloat for long—unless you were a Tidewitch. “I hope you trust me,” she said as the Empress finally caught up. Vaness offered a grimace in reply, and to Vivia’s surprise, she found herself laughing. As real as the smile on the cliff top, it loosed from her chest and softened in her muscles. She would find the Fox ship. She would find a way to protect her people.

She squared her shoulders to the sea, arms opening and magic reaching. The sparkle of the Well had worn off, but now she had the sparkle of the sea. Always flowing, always alive, always ready to be what Vivia needed.

Come, she summoned, and her fingers and toes curled in. Come and take us. Then she hopped into the half-buried boat, her feet squelching on damp sand, and offered a hand to the Empress.

Vaness took it, though her gaze was on the water. It rivered upward, following creases and seams worn into stone. Then covering sand and seaweed it had already abandoned until the next tide. By the time it reached the dinghy, Vaness was seated on the crooked remains of a bench and Vivia stood at what little remained of a stern.

Take us, Vivia said, half request, half command, and as always, the water obeyed. It licked around the boat’s skeleton, careful to remain outside even when holes welcomed it in. Then it tugged, it lifted, it lurched the vessel to sea.

Vaness yelped at the first jerk. Vivia only smiled. Two more jerks as the water forced the wreck from its longtime home. Then they were sailing. Up, over the shore, and finally into the dark, lapping waves.

A few kicks from the tide, but otherwise, the ride was smooth. Like attendants carrying a litter, the water aimed to please Vivia. It aimed to keep her safe and comfortable—and fast. Within moments of clearing the last breaker, the dinghy accelerated to a wild speed. Spindrift sprayed. Waves snuck in through cracks. But never did the boat falter, and never did Vivia’s magic. These past days, she had felt more connected to her power than she had in her entire lifetime. These waters were hers. These waters were home.

Time became meaningless as the boat sailed on. Her Tidewitchery was one with the sea. It navigated by instinct. It set course by timeless truth. Coral reefs older than humanity, shipwrecks ancient but new, and creatures that lived so very briefly but that the water intimately knew—each piece told Vivia where she was. Each piece guided her true.

It was midmorning when they reached the Hundred Isles. A record time, Vivia thought in that vague part of her mind that was still human. Now if she could just find where the Fox ship was meant to be.