The boat gradually slowed, and Orenda had no idea how long she had stayed pressed to that wood, feeling as if she were going to die. When it finally slowed enough that she was not pinned by the great gusts of wind, she staggered and fell, hard, onto her face on the deck.

“That was the strongest water magic I've ever felt,” Adamareyn stood above her, clutching his chest, but Orenda could not see him. She was doubled over in pain, her vision was completely gone, her entire body heaved and spasmed, and she thought she could not endure it. She tried to push herself up on one arm, but it gave out and she fell back against the wood so hard she felt her brain rattle against her skull.

“Rendy!” Tolith called and lifted her by the shoulders, “God you're heavy, someone help me! Steve!”

“Rendy, please,” he begged with panic in his voice, and she tried to open her eyes, or to raise a hand, or to speak, but she could not. Her body was so heavy, it felt as it had in the bathhouse, when it had been weighed down on all sides by water.

“Hold on,” Adamareyn said, and Orenda felt a second set of hands take her by the waist, “I'm going to try... this will either be very helpful or very harmful.”

“Don't kill her!” Tolith shrieked in a voice that did not sound much like his own.

“I'm not trying to,” Adamareyn said, “I'm going to dry her out, take the water off of her. I'll do it slowly. She still needs blood. I'm going to be as gentle as I can. She's breathing. She's not dead.”

Orenda wanted to tell him that she could hear him, and that he should go ahead, that she liked this plan and thought it would work, but she could not will her tongue to move. It was taking everything in her to draw breath, which she could only do by concentrating with all her mind, and it only came in slow, shallow droughts as if she were drinking rather than breathing. The damn djinn had nearly killed her, and she would let him know the next time she saw him!

Orenda did not see the liquid as Adamareyn pulled his hands away, but she felt it. She felt the weight of it leaving, little by little, felt her breath come easier and easier. It happened slowly, gradually, as he had promised, and eventually she was able to open her eyes, then to raise her arm and rub them. She looked down and saw that Adamareyn was no longer touching her, he had stepped back, holding his wand in one hand and with the other controlling a long stream of water that flowed from her waist to his hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, and she nodded, so he waved his hand and the water went crashing to the deck.

Orenda clung to Tolith, because she was still not as steady as she had been on land, still as sick as ever, and still about to pass out from the pain of it all. But she was alive, and she could move on her own, and that was enough, in the end.

“Thank you,” She said.

“Rendy,” Tolith took her face in his free hand, “You were talking to Ali, weren't you? In that fire? Please, I know you're ill, but please, tell me what happened to my mother.”

“She's dead,” Orenda said, because her brain was not functioning well enough for tact, “The djinn killed her. Ali and Bubbider do not consider you nobility, and I don't... think they're coming after you. They said that the entire royal family was dead. Toli, I know you're upset, but please, I have to go downstairs and sit down. I can't take this. This is the worst I've ever felt. I'm so, so sorry I made fun of you for your poor constitution, I don't think I have the constitution for sea travel. I hate this so much. I can't stand being so weak.”

“She's dead,” he said, not as if he was upset, but as if it gave him some kind of closure. Then he seemed to take in the rest of Orenda's message and added, “Right, of course. You're not weak, Rendy, you're out of your element. If I tried to walk through fire, I'd be dead. The fact that you're alive means that you're strong.”

“I feel dead,” Orenda said and wiped the tears from her eyes. She had not meant to cry in front of him, but she could not explain the fatigue, the pain, the helplessness, “I can't live like this. It isn't going away.”

“I think it will,” He said.

“Captain,” Adamareyn said, “I'm going to the crow's nest to try to get our bearings. It's not quite midday so... it'll be a while before the stars are out and I have no idea where that creature has taken us, but I know we've traveled some great distance.”

“Good idea,” Tolith agreed, “I'm taking Rendy to the galley to try to settle her stomach.”

He did not say that it was also to think of his father, mother, and life choices, but it absolutely was, and Orenda knew it without him having to say anything at all. He sat her at the bar and she folded into it with her elbows resting on it and her head in her hands.

“Hey, so,” he said, speaking quietly as if he thought she had a headache, “I uh... look, Rendy, everything is going to be ok, ok? Wait, that was stupid, look... I'm going to make you a healing potion, ok? I got really good grades in potion class, it might help. I think the sea may be draining you.”

“Thank you,” She said to her hands, “It's worth a try. I'll try anything at this point.”

She heard him making noises as pots clattered against grates, cabinets opened and closed, and she felt the fire flare up with its comforting aura when he lit it.

“My mom's dead,” he said at length, after a desperately long span of time had passed, after Orenda could already smell the herbs mixing in the pot.

“Yes,” she said, because it did not feel like he wanted comfort, only confirmation.

“Do you know what it was like?” he asked, “With my mother?”

“No,” Orenda said, “Strangely enough, Ali did not speak often of her. I got the impression that he did not much care for her.”

“When I was young, I spent my time with my nurse, when my parents were still together. My mother never really... interacted with me much. We didn't take meals together or anything. But when I was so small… almost too young to remember it... I have… you know, a great many people had mothers who read them stories at night, or bathed them, or sang children's songs to them, or various other things. They knew their mothers.”

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“It must be nice,” Orenda said, “I sometimes wondered what it was like, to have a mother. But I didn't know anyone like that, anyone who did. We were all the same in that regard, at the workhouse. I liked to imagine that my mother was a queen, who had lost me, but would one day return.”

“Oh!” he said as he took the pot from the stove and set a teacup with a strainer over it on the bar. Orenda watched the rings in his ears glow as he poured the liquid into it, and it turned from clear to a glowing green, and she thought of Charles and felt a pain in her heart.

“That reminds me,” he said as he set the pot and strainer in the sink, “I found something in my mother's vault when I was robbing her. I think it was meant for you, Rendy, I really do. I think fate wanted you to have it.”

He dashed off down the hall and Orenda took a sip of the potion. She felt it moving through her system like a well made potion would, but it didn't seem to do much. She had drank about half of it when he returned, and her eyes widened, her mouth fell open, and she threw one hand over it.

It was a tiara. A gold tiara with a large fire crystal in the middle that would sit on the wearer's forehead, just between and a little above their eyes. It was beautiful, fit for a princess, and obviously made for a fire mage, or at least... someone from a culture that valued fire crystals.

“That isn't even the best part,” Tolith said, delighted by the reaction, “Look at the inscription on the inside. I think it was a wedding gift.”

He turned it around and handed it to Orenda. On the inside, she saw, inscribed in tiny letters:

To Orenda Firefist: Thesis has made the best choice. Congratulations, my love. We will be united forever. Your soulmate, Shiron.

“This...” Orenda's hands trembled so that she was afraid she would drop the tiara.

“It has your name on it,” Tolith said, “Orenda.”

He put his hands over hers to steady them.

“I'm... I'm sorry that I... had this in my house and... I'm... sorry it was stolen. It had to be stolen. I'm sorry, Rendy. I want you to have it.”

“This belonged to the high priestess,” Orenda said, “But she was killed by the Emerald Knight and no one is said to have come back from an expedition to the temple where she was slain... Toli, that means... that means that one of the soldiers... someone who was there that night... this was looted from her corpse.”

“Holy shit you're right,” he said and drew his hands back, “Oh wow fuck! Yeah, that's... it's probably cursed or haunted or... why did I think that would be romantic? Here, have this corpse crown! My mom stole it from the people she genocided! Girls will looooove that! What the actual fuck is wrong with me?”

Orenda thought this rant was much more than the situation warranted, and watched him as he marched around the kitchen with his head in his hands.

“I don't think it's cursed,” She said at length, “Also, what actually is wrong with you?”

“I don't know, Rendy, my mom is dead,” he said, and she realized he was crying, “And I... I don't care! I let it happen! I never liked her and... she's my mom! I should like my mom! She's never hurt me, not really... I should love my mom! I should care that she's dead! But I don't and... and she was a monster! She... had people killed, had corpses looted, did horrible things to her slaves, made me believe... they made me believe, Rendy... that this was just... just the way of the world, just how things were and I... I hate her for it, I... I'm kind of mad at my dad too, but... she did this! She did all of it, and I... It's my mom! It's my mom, Rendy, it's inside of me. It's inside of me, that evil, and you don't understand...”

“I really don't,” she said, confused.

“I don't know how to explain it,” He said through his tears, “but if I like... wear a uniform, like my dad did, like the one they made for me before I was supposed to leave, I can... I can feel it inside me trying to come out. Those lessons, those etiquette lessons I start... I start talking like that by default, I start... I feel it. I feel like I'm... Like I'm supposed to be like them. I can feel it slipping like... I can't... I can't explain it to anyone who has never felt it.”

“I'm going to wear this, Tolith,” Orenda said, “I do quite like it. And I do wish I could learn more about the high priestess. I believe Felaern was right, that I was named for her. Probably because 'Orenda' was the only fire elven name to survive long enough to reach those at the workhouse.”

“The djinn said your real name was 'Bruanna',” Tolith said quietly, rubbing his upper arms with his hands.

“No,” Orenda corrected, “He said it was what my parents wanted to call me, not that it was my name. My name is Orenda. It has been all my life. I won't change that to please someone who abandoned me. I can't imagine I would change anything about myself to please anyone who would leave a child in those conditions. I will ask him, though, when we find him.”

“Right,” Tolith stared at the wall and seemed to see nothing.

“Toli,” Orenda said, “Come here and put this on my head. I'd like to pretend that I am a princess at her coronation, and that this illness is an attack of nerves rather than my incoming death.”

He laughed and took it from her outstretched hand.

“Hey Rendy,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“Since I already made a fool of myself, can I just, you know, roll with that and keep digging myself deeper?”

“I've always thought you were a fool, Toli,” Orenda smiled.

“That makes sense. There's something about you that makes me stupid. I got top marks in every class except the etiquette one, the one where I had to interact the most with you.” He said as if it puzzled him, “You make me stupid. And I... I don't like being stupid, but I like being around you.”

“Toli,” She said softly.

“No, no, I know,” he said, “I'm not trying to... I know you don't love me, Rendy. I know you never did. That's not...”

“I'm sorry for that,” She said, and meant it.

“It's alright,” He said, “I know it doesn't... it doesn't sound like it's alright, but... we still share a bond, you and I. I know it isn't... what I want it to be, but I understand how you feel. You can't force yourself to love someone. I... I never loved Shelly.” He said it like it was a confession. “I tried to. I tried so hard, Rendy. My parents said it was a good match, and she would be a good wife, and she was from a good family, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. We had similar interests, we had fun dates, we could have had a pleasant marriage... but I just... I just couldn't.”

“It's a rather melodramatic day for you,” Orenda said.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“I'm sorry about your mother,” Orenda said, “And your girlfriend. I'm sorry you didn't love them. Now give me my crown.”

“Bend down a little,” He said, “the stool is tall and you're tall anyway.”

She lowered her head and he slowly slid the tiara into place. She felt the magic from the fire crystal flowing through her, and it fought back the pressure of the water a little. It felt right, as if he had been correct, as if it had been made for her, was waiting for her. She suspected this was because it had been made by fire elves, like her medallion.

“How does it look?” She asked.

“You look beautiful, princess,” Tolith said.

“That can't possibly be true,” Orenda said, “I'm dying. I... I still really need to lie down, Toli. This is very sweet but I...”

“Maybe you'd feel better on a real bed,” he suggested.