Callista was cold, soaked, and completely miserable.

The sun had risen higher now, but it brought no comfort—just a dull, aching glare that bounced off the water and stabbed at her tired eyes. Her muscles were on fire. Her stomach had long since stopped grumbling. Her throat was dry from the salty air, and her entire body felt like it had been wrung out and left to hang.

The oars sat limply at her sides, barely dipped into the sea anymore. Her strokes had become slower, weaker, less frequent. ...