Rhea Daniels didn’t like boats. She’d always wondered if it had something to do with being a fire wielder. All Moroi used magic tied to one of the four elements—earth, air, water, or fire. Those who used water always seemed to love swimming and being in boats. Not Rhea. The rocking back and forth—even on a large boat like this—made her nauseous, and she had a recurrent fear of falling over the side and sinking into a cold, dark grave.

That didn’t stop her from standing near the edge tonight, far from the laughter of the others who were still going on about the attack on the beach. She didn’t mind the isolation; she didn’t know most of them anyway. Besides, the yacht’s outer sides received the most wind, and that cooling air made her feel a little less sick. Nonetheless, she still gripped the railing with a tightness that made her fingers cramp. Grimacing, she glanced ahead at their destination. Like all vampires, she had excellent night vision and could discern the island’s dark shape against the star-clustered sky. They weren’t moving nearly fast enough toward it, as far as she was concerned.

“Don’t your hands hurt?”

The voice startled her. Moroi had good hearing, too, but the newcomer had caught her off guard. Glancing over, she saw a guy watching her curiously as he shoved his hands into khaki pants. The wind was making a mess of his pale blond hair, but he didn’t seem to notice. That hair color was fascinating. Her own was a light shade of gold, but his was a platinum that would probably look white in the right lighting. There was also a regal air to him, like someone who’d been born and bred to power and prestige, but that description applied to most everyone on this trip.

“No,” she lied. Silence fell. Rhea hated silence. She always felt the need to make conversation and struggled now to think of what to say next. “Why are you over here?” The words came out harsh, and she winced.