Free The Perilous Sea by Sherry Thomas

frowned. It would be inefficient, not to mention dangerous, for them to stop every couple of minutes to drill a hole.
    â€œIn that case, I’d better tunnel beneath the surface of the bedrock. Can you crawl for nearly a mile?”
    â€œI can, but we do not need to. We can levitate each other.” 5
    She looked almost impressed at his idea. “Let’s do that.”
    She excavated a horizontal passage four feet from the top of the bedrock and crawled in on her stomach. He, behind her, entered feet first and face up, until the soles of their boots touched. They levitated each other a few inches off the floor of the passage. A small river of rock debris began to flow underneath them, toward the back. Every fifteen seconds or so, he pushed against the walls of the tunnel and propelled them forward.
    They made steady progress as the sweeper scraped back and forth overhead. When half an hour had passed, she enlarged the tunnel somewhat for them to sit and rest. He drank greedily from the waterskin she handed him, surprised by how thirsty he was, even though the tunnel was as cool as a cellar.
    His watch measured distance as well as time. He showed her that they had moved about a half mile from where they first sank down below the surface of the desert.
    She nodded. “You all right?”
    His wound hurt, insistently and noticeably. But compared to the agony earlier, the pain was nothing. “I am fine. You?”
    She appeared surprised by the question. “Fine, of course.”
    Next to her, a tiny sphere of water appeared, spinning lazily midair as it grew fatter. These days elemental mages were more likely to be the entertainers at birthday parties than anything else. Her powers, on the other hand . . .
    â€œYou were going to show me something, before the dragnet caught up with us,” he said.
    â€œOh, that.” She pulled a card out of her pocket and held it toward him.
    He examined the card. A. G. Fairfax . “Do you mind if I call you that?”
    She shrugged. “Go ahead.” The cool challenge came back into her eyes. “Should I address you as Your Serene Highness?”
    â€œYou may announce a prince as such, but you address him as only ‘Your Highness,’ ” he said. “For example, ‘Your Highness, it has been a privilege to crawl through a cramped, airless tunnel with you.’”
    She scoffed, but without rancor. The water sphere had grown large. She took the waterskin from him, refilled it, and put it back into her bag. He realized only when she glanced up and their eyes met that he had not looked away from her this entire time.
    â€œYour Highness,” she said, her tone half-mocking, “may I have the honor of excavating another half mile of passage for you?”
    â€œBut certainly,” he answered, handing back her calling card. “When we are on the throne again, we shall remember and reward your loyalty and devotion.”
    She shook her head at his pomposity, but he could see by the tilt of her lips that she was amused. And it startled him that in the midst of all the danger and uncertainty, he felt a leap of pure delight at having made her smile.
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    They found out the next minute that they could not levitate each other again.
    â€œThe levitation spells we used earlier were probably close to wearing off when we stopped—we would not have noticed since we were only three inches off the ground,” said the boy who might or might not be a prince. “If that were the case, a quarter-hour wait would be required. Which means we can try again in about”—he glanced at his watch—“seven minutes.”
    He was still in pain—he held himself carefully to avoid unnecessary movement. People reacted differently to pain: some wanted sympathy and help; others preferred to suffer alone, to not have witnesses in their hour of affliction. He was probably the latter kind, the kind who became