WE SKIM so close to the water that we might as well be swimming. I keep expecting us to fly right through a large swell. As it is, the spray feels like an icy shower. I bury my face in Raffe’s neck, seeking his endless warmth.

It’s so cold that my arms want to crack and fall off in protest. It’s no consolation that this is the only way we can get near the aerie without being seen. If we had flown over land, they would have spotted us.

Raffe is stoic and calm this close to the water despite having swum probably only once in his entire existence. I’m a little less calm. I can’t help but think that this might be the last thing I do. I can’t get the images of the crazed warriors sprayed in blood out of my head.

Raffe holds me tighter. “It’s about time you showed some sense. You should be afraid.”

“I’m shivering because I’m freezing.”

“You’re cute when you’re afraid.”

I give him a dirty look. “Yeah, you’re cute when you’re afraid too.”

He actually bursts out laughing. “You mean I’m devastatingly handsome when I’m not afraid. Because you’ve never seen me afraid.”

“I said you were cute, not ‘devastatingly handsome.’ ”

We’re nearing the shore. So far, the sound of waves crashing onto the sand and rocks should have disguised our banter. But we’re getting close enough that we both instinctively shut up.

We, of course, don’t have a plan. We’ll simply have to see what’s going on and take it from there. We drift a little to the side of the new aerie so that we can go on shore unnoticed. We land on the beach below the bluff at the edge of the hotel grounds.

Hiding behind rocks, fences, and bushes, we sneak up as close as we dare near the circle of light by the edge of the hotel’s lawn. New torches have been set up to replace the old ones that got knocked down during the brawl. But they’re placed randomly and at drunken angles as if whoever put them up couldn’t be bothered with them.

I try to match Raffe’s stealth and smooth coordination, but my frozen limbs are clumsy, and I have to grab him several times to keep myself from tipping over. He throws me a look with a clear message that I should deal with my issues.

We dart to a row of low bushes and follow them closer to the lawn. The edges of the grounds are crammed with the remains of the party like debris washed up on shore. Fallen party tables, upside-down lounge chairs, torn costumes, and other broken things.