Natalin had a single, endless moment to stare at the reddening sky, her thoughts frozen in horror as to exactly how late she was.

And then she sat bolt upright, gasping for breath as her head spun this way and that. Sundown. It was getting dangerously close to sundown, and she was still well outside Aramoor - exactly what everyone had told her not to do. Her legs trembled as she forced herself upright, nearly falling twice before finally catching herself.

You let me sleep.

You needed the rest. Efren’s voice was decidedly unapologetic. She glared at the ground, seeing him coalesce alongside her. His hand landed on her shoulder a moment later, patting her as he started to laugh.

Arguing with him wasn’t going to help, and she didn’t have time to waste on verbal sparring. Judging from the color of the sky, sundown would be on them within the hour, and she was still miles from home. Pushing the sleep from her mind, she jumped up, stumbling back towards the river.

It wasn’t so warm anymore, and the sun had long since waned. The splash of water on her legs was enough to set her to shivering as she plunged in, pulling her sledge in after her. In her hurry, she didn’t even note the ease with which she clambered up onto its surface, the sudden balance that she had as she pushed onward. It was already easier, the skill naturally sliding into her repertoire. Efren was a constant presence floating behind her as she shot onto the river, her pulse racing.

If she was late, Gerd would kill her. It didn’t matter if she was the Tideborn, he’d still kill her. She couldn’t be late.

All of the caution she’d had on the way out vanished under her need to get home, to return before they noticed she was missing. The spray from the keel of her craft shot out in plumes of white as she tacked around another bend, crashing through brackish water and marshy tufts of grass. Her pants were soaked to the knees, the hem of her half-skirt muddied.

But she was doing it. It was exhilarating, in a strange way - the fear of her teacher’s disappointment was enough to wipe out the fear of how fast she was going, how close she was coming to the shoreline. The wind blew through her hair, teasing it out of its ponytail and sending it billowing out behind her.

And still the sun sank lower on the horizon.

A distant sound registered in her ears - hoofbeats. And voices. Her ears pricked, she slowed, scanning the horizon instinctively. They sounded like they were hurrying, and that was odd enough to warrant a second look.

When she found them, her pace slowed further. They were just a distant shape, black against the orange and violet of the horizon, but one of them carried a torch that glowed against the growing dark. Horsemen - five of them. No. Seven. They trotted on, pushing as hard as they could through the marshy mess.

She stared dumbly, her brow furrowing. A hand landed on her shoulder.

“I believe you should hurry, waterlily,” Efren said, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. “I do believe you’re losing the race.”

Another jolt of adrenaline shot down her spine as she realized who the riders must be. The merchants wouldn’t be out with the sun beginning to fall, after all, and the riders didn’t have any wagons or carts to carry merchandise.

At least she knew the delegation hadn’t beaten her to Aramoor, she thought sourly. Yet.

Just as she shifted her weight, bringing her magic to bear again, she saw their heads begin to turn to face her. A distant sound rose from their group, like someone calling. She didn’t wait. The sound of rushing water crescendoed as she dumped her mana into the working, springing off down the river again.

Her mind ran through the options, the situation she was in and how she’d get out of it. They had horses, and that made them fast - but Ondria’s lowlands weren’t so simple to traverse. She’d studied the maps often enough to know that much. The trading routes wound this way and that, picking their way between rivers and swamps and what little dry ground they could find. Their route to reach the capital would be twice as long as it would be if they could go straight through.

Riding on the water itself, she didn’t have that problem. Even still, she was cutting it close. Her eyes scanned the lowlands ahead of her, looking for any shortcut she could find. Efren’s sigh rang in her ears, but she was already turning, tight-lipped.

Her knees shook as she pushed herself faster, skimming over what few inches of water lay atop the swamp. The sledge bucked, shimmying as branches and logs just under the surface scraped its bottom. Natalin held her balance, her face bone-white. If she fell, she’d probably break something, and then she’d never make it back.

The feeling of smooth water under her again was a tangible relief as she turned back towards the center of the channel, rejoining the river. She could see it, by then - the mouth of the river, the broad, dark expanse of the ocean stretching out beyond it. And the lights of Aramoor, a thousand lanterns filling the violet sky with their glow.

An exhausted, relieved breath slid between her lips as she half-jumped, half-fell from her sledge, the white sand of the cove still warm under her toes. The temple waited in front of her, burning with light like a beacon.

One eye pricked towards the temple’s doors, knowing that at any moment one of the others could come tearing out, demanding to know where she’d been, Natalin grabbed the watercraft. It had been handy - and with the taste of the outside world still fresh and sweet on her tongue, she knew she’d be wanting it again.

It was almost invisible once she’d tucked it under the end of the dock, burying it under a thin layer of sand. That high on the shore, it shouldn’t get take out to sea with the tide. She hoped. She didn’t want to have to explain destruction of temple property along with theft.

The slow, steady drip of something damp down her leg reminded Natalin that she couldn’t stand around dreaming. She was expected - and she was still coated in mud, stinking of stagnant water and moldering grasses.

“Godsdamned hell,” she muttered, raising a hand to feel the windsnarled mess of her hair as she stalked towards the side door she’d come out before the afternoon’s adventure.

Fortune was on her side. When she slipped inside, twisting the ice-key in her hand and relocking the door, there was no one dashing past for her to surprise. She let the air in her lungs slide out between her teeth, all too aware of her waterlogged boots, the water dripping down onto the wood floors. Hoping that Efren would take pity on her and work a miracle to keep everyone else away, she slipped off towards her room.

No sooner had she closed her door, ripping the mudsoaked skirt from her belt and hurling both it and her boots far enough under the bed to be hidden, when a knock came rapping against the wood.

“Mistress Natalin? Are you there?”

Lenna. She froze, her mind racing for a single second, and then tore off her jacket and pants as well. Still clad in her black undershirt and pulling on a pair of soft-woven trousers, she glanced towards the door. “I-I am now. Did I oversleep?”

“You were still sleeping?” Lenna’s voice rose angrily. The door slammed open a moment later. Natalin was fervently grateful she’d waited as long as she had to respond. The maid assigned to look after her was nearly as no-nonsense as Headswoman Remete. Her colorless brown hair was braided back, her nose raised as she glared at her charge.

“Oh, just look at you. And your hair. I’m supposed to have you presentable before the next bell, but how’s that supposed to happen?” Lenna wailed, stalking closer. Natalin flinched, drawing back, but the maid’s hand latched around her arm before she could flee. “You. Bath. Now.”

Fighting against her grip was like trying to fight the tides. Breathing a silent sigh of relief that her game had gone undiscovered, Natalin let herself be towed away.