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again. Shifted her sight to norm and saw them; Korl struggling to get a hold of the boat, his silk collar clutched in a death-grip by Jaja’s fingers. With a mental heave Mahri used the water to fling them onto the deck. She watched with anxiety as they both lay gasping and choking up enormous amounts of the channel, but seemingly unhurt.
    Jaja shook the water from his scales, crawled to Mahri and slowly climbed the braid of her hair, curling his tail around her neck and huddling on her shoulder. Korl sat back, head bowed, arms slung atop his bent knees, and just breathed. With profound relief she switched to the Sight to use the Power to steer around the humps of skulkers, through the white rapids until they reached calmer waters.
    Mahri Saw where one body of water mingled with another, knew they traveled far from any mapped passages or any of her own routes. Currents flowed and shifted in opposing directions; she could glimpse other channels within a stone’s throw of their own through the massed trunks of the sea trees, yet still recognized nothing.
    If I can find one familiar passage, she thought, I’ll know the way to the village—but how long before that happens when I know only the general direction to go? A full night and half the morning gone, and a journey with unknown hazards ahead. While the fever spreads through my village.
    The water gentled to a blue mirror and Mahri had to churn it to move the boat along. She couldn’t pole, had locked her joints just to keep her standing upright, using only enough Power to blunt the pain in her body.
    She felt Korl’s eyes on her—how could she not? Buttook her time before she met them. Water still clung to his lashes, making them thicker, the pale green of his eyes even more vivid. By-the-moons, she thought with a groan. My body’s in too much pain to respond to that face.
    “You’re a Wilding,” he said, his deep voice making the title sound like an accusation. “No water-rat can chew as much root as you have and still be standing to wield the Power. How much did she pay you, anyway?”
    “Who? What do you mean?”
    His eyes narrowed. He looks incredibly sexy, thought Mahri helplessly, when he’s angry.
    “Don’t play stupid,” he snapped. “It doesn’t suit you. How much did S’raya pay you to kidnap me? Enough to buy a whole lot of root, apparently.” Korl gestured towards the pouch at his waist. “And why bother to save my life—unless you intend to try and ransom me back. Hate to disappoint you, but…”
    Mahri’s eyes widened with surprise. How many enemies does a prince have anyway? But she asked the only question that mattered at this particular moment. “Who’s S’raya?”
    “She didn’t tell you she’s my sister, did she?” he asked, and then did the most extraordinary thing. He pulled the thong from around his head and shook back the hair from his face. Shimmering droplets sprayed about his feet and the move whipped the curled strands of hair away to expose his throat. A gesture that surely many a man had made, but by-the-thirteen moons he turned it into the most provocative thing Mahri had ever seen. Her lower half throbbed in response and she gripped the bone staff until her knuckles showed white.
    She’d have to stop doing this to herself. Focus, she thought. S’raya isn’t a scorned girlfriend, which could be a good thing. But his sister? What kind of family did he have, anyway?
    “This has nothing to do with politics,” she managed to say. “I needed a Healer and I just happened to pick your door.”
    He reached up and tied the thong of mosk-leather back around his head. “You expect me to believe that?”
    Mahri felt the root’s Power ebb from within her. Blast it, she’d need his help if they were going to make it to the village. She needed to rest.
    “Believe it!” she snapped. “I had no intention of kidnapping a Royal. I would’ve dropped you over the balcony of the Healer’s Tree if I’d have known