Prince's Fire by Amy Raby

plunging into the water. The shock of the cold stole his breath. His muscles seized, and he was lost in a morass of heavy, frigid darkness. Couldn’t see, couldn’t swim, couldn’t tell which direction was up. He called on his fire magic, not the gentle breath of warmth he’d used with Celeste, but a blistering inferno that radiated from his core like a pyrotechnic starburst. His muscles began to uncramp. His boots were weighing him down, so he kicked them off. A sheen of moonlight showed him the way to the surface. He swam for it. Bursting through, he gulped the cold night air.
    Where was Celeste? With all three moons high in the sky, he had sufficient light to search for her. He glanced at the ship and swam in the direction opposite its movement. After a dozen strokes, he paused, trying to spot her in the vast, roiling surface of the ocean. The undulating waves dropped him into a trough, then raised him six feet only to drop him again. He felt tiny and insignificant. As each wave crested, giving him a momentary height advantage, he searched frantically.
    â€œCeleste, where are you?” he cried.
    â€œOver here!”
    Her voice was weak and thready. How she was staying afloat in the frigid water without fire magic to keep her warm, he had no idea. He swam toward her voice. “Keep your head above water,” he called. “When I reach you, I’ll get you warm.”
    â€œI c-can’t . . .”
    â€œYou can!” He sputtered as a wave swept over him. “Signal me! I can’t see you over the waves.”
    He looked all around him. There it was—a glowing blue ball of magelight, hovering just over the waves. It was hard to see against the dark ocean and sky, but he could follow it readily enough. He swam in the direction of the magelight.
    â€œOver here!” she called.
    He saw her head poking out of the water, rising and falling with the waves. She was staying afloat reasonably well, but the cold would take her soon. He swam toward her, struggling against the waves as they washed him back. The ocean was stronger than he was; fighting it was only sapping his strength. When the waves pushed against him, he rested, yielding to their power, and when their strength dragged him toward Celeste instead of away, he swam hard, throwing all his energy into great sweeps of his arms. She was closer; he could see the fear in her eyes. He rested through another swell of the waves, and the next propelled him into her. He grabbed her. Celeste’s flesh was so icy, it burned his skin, but his fire magic bled through and overcame it. “I’ve got you,
karamasi
.”
    â€œGods,” she said, clinging to him. “I thought I was going to die.”
    She still might. Both of them might. As they washed through the crest of a wave, he cast about for the ship. It was even farther away than he’d thought it would be. A knot of terror gathered in his belly. Had Atella dispatched the remaining assassins and called for help? Did anyone know they were missing? “Throw up another signal for the ship. I can’t do it. I need all my concentration to keep us warm.”
    Celeste summoned a blue ball of magelight above their heads and sent it upward. She moved it back and forth in the sky.
    â€œThat’s good,” he said. “Keep it up. They may see it.” He wasn’t sure that they would. Blue on blue wasn’t as visible as he would have liked.
    Now that he’d warmed the water around them, he released Celeste from the body hug and, treading, grasped her hand. His muscles were burning from his frantic swim. To rest them, he thrust himself onto his back to float.
    Celeste kept signaling, but the ship dwindled until it disappeared into the darkness.
    â€œThey don’t see us,” said Rayn. “Save your strength.”
    Land lay somewhere to the east. He could find it, orienting by the stars. But how far away was it? Was it within swimming