“There.” Søren’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

The end of the tunnel appears in the distance, a small circle of indigo sky. We hurry toward it. The tunnel widens around us into a cove that opens directly into the ocean. There is just enough moonlight to confirm that we’re facing west. There is nothing visible but a small ship bobbing in the distance. Wås.

“You’re right,” I say. “We’re going to have to swim it.”

He looks at me. “The current isn’t strong, but it will be against us.”

It’s nothing for him, I’m sure, but he’s worried about me. And he has good reason to be. The most swimming I’ve done has been in the heated pools below the palace. Still, bath-warm water. Nothing like this.

“Sounds like fun,” I say lightly, hoping I sound more confident than I feel.

I don’t. He sees right through me, but he also knows we don’t have a choice. It’s swim or die.

“Stay close to me,” he says. “Let me know if you need a break. We don’t need to get to the ship itself, just those rocks.” He motions to the cluster of boulders the ship is tied to.

They’re closer, but not enough to make much of a difference. There’s also the added risk of being seen when we climb them. But as long as there’s a chance, I have hope.

“Let’s go,” I tell Søren. We can’t waste another moment.

* * *

—

It feels like every inch I gain, the waves knock me back two. If this is what Søren calls a weak current, I’d hate to see a strong one. I’m so cold that I don’t feel it anymore. My fingers and toes have gone numb and I’m worried that they’ll fall off before I reach the rocks.

Søren is ahead of me, but I can tell he’s holding himself back to stay close.

“Break?” he asks, gasping out the words over the waves. Despite the Fire Gem cloak wrapped around him, the cold is getting to him as well.

My teeth rattle against each other, drowning out almost everything else. “We’re almost there,” I reply, pushing on.

“About halfway,” he corrects.

I want to cry, but it would be a waste of energy I can’t afford to spare. I can cry later, when I’m warm and safe. I can cry all I want then, but not now.

The only way I can survive this is if I let my mind leave my body, the way I do during the Kaiser’s punishments—the way I did, I remind myself. He’s never touching me again. Without my mind to get in the way, all I have to do is breathe and paddle and kick. My mind is far ahead of me, on the boat already, warm and safe and free.

Warm and safe and free.

Warm and safe and free.

I repeat the words to myself like a mantra, timing them to the beat of my heart and the rhythm of my strokes. Nothing else matters. I’m hardly even aware of Søren paddling ahead of me, though he keeps looking back to make sure I’m still afloat.

An eternity passes before we reach the rocks and he stops to help me up.

“Y-you…said…o-o-only thirty…m-minutes,” I manage to get out when I reach him, clutching the boulder so hard the jagged edges dig into my fingertips.

“I actually think we made good time,” he tells me, sounding impressed. “You might have even done it in twenty-five.”

My teeth are chattering so badly that I can’t answer. He tries to give me the cloak again, but I push it away.

“Just for a minute,” he says.

I shake my head. “I’m fine,” I say, but I don’t expect him to believe it.

“There are blankets on the ship,” he says, tying the cloak around his shoulders. He grips my waist and helps boost me onto the boulder. “And a few changes of clothes.”

“And c-c-coffee?” I ask him, scrambling for purchase on the rock. I lost my shoes long ago, so I have to do it barefoot. My poor fingers are bloodied and raw and stinging from the salt water. I’m surprised they can do anything, but they manage to hold on. I find my footing as well, and take the opportunity to get my bearings. The ship is a stone’s throw away, maybe a few yards.

Søren pulls himself next to me.

“No coffee. But wine. Good wine,” he tells me.

I take a deep breath and begin to move, inch by inch, toward the boat. The frigid wind freezes the joints in my hands, making it hard to grip, but I push through it. I know that I need to move faster, especially now that we’re so visible from the shore, but I can’t. Even this feels like it will kill me.

“You’re doing fine,” Søren tells me through clenched teeth. It makes me gladder than it should to see that he’s struggling as well. He was born to be a warrior, made for worse things than this, and he’s still having a hard time. “Just don’t look down,” he warns.

But of course, as soon as he says it, I do exactly that. And of course, I regret it immediately.

We’ve moved far enough and high enough along the boulders that the water is now a steep drop below us. At its edge, smaller, jagged rocks break the surface, threatening to tear me to pieces if I slip. I take a shuddering breath and draw my eyes away.

“I told you,” he grunts. “Just keep looking ahead.”

I grit my teeth but don’t argue. It’s close now, the bow almost close enough to touch, though it’s tethered a few feet off to keep it from crashing into the rocks.

“We’re going to have to climb higher,” Søren says, as if reading my mind. “And then we’re going to have to jump.”

“I w-w-was a-f-f-fraid you were g-g-going to say s-s-something like th-that,” I manage.

Though it sounds like it costs him, he laughs.

It’s difficult to find traction under my feet farther up, and more often than not, my arms are doing most of the work holding me. They’ll feel like seaweed after this, I’m sure, but there will be an after this, and that is what matters.

The Kaiserin was right. Sometimes just surviving is enough.

A shout from shore cuts through the air and next to me, Søren lets out a string of curses—only about half of which I’m familiar with.

“It’s fine,” he says, glancing over his shoulder. “We’re almost there, and all their ships are on the other side of the peninsula. By the time that guard gets to anyone else, we’ll be gone. It’s fine.” I get the feeling that he’s assuring himself more than me.

I want to turn around and look myself, but I don’t need Søren to tell me that’s a bad idea. All I can do is put one foot ahead of the other, one hand in front of the other, and climb. Everything else is out of my control. In a way, there is freedom in knowing that.