Page 12

EZRA

S yril books out a public pool for the competition.

Apparently he does this every year, and we’re not just here to splash around.

We’re here to paddle board. I’m not the most athletic guy, but I do know my way around the water thanks to long summers spent at the lake when I was a kid. I may also be a teeny bit competitive.

I’m no pro, but I can show them what humans are made of.

It’s weird to imagine monsters outside The Sanctum, even though I know they’re around — I always leave my amulet off when I’m away. That first night, Plato chastised me for hiding the amulet from Lysander. If you’re part of our world, you have to be open about it. Build trust.

I got his point. Now it feels a little weird to wear it in my ordinary life. What if I encounter a gargoyle at the grocery store, or spot a minotaur on the rowing machine? Is there a secret nod? Do I pretend not to notice? Easier just to avoid it altogether.

The changing room is empty by the time I get there — I must be the last one in. I change into my trunks and put on the amulet, a frisson of excitement running down my spine. I have no clue what to expect.

What I get is chaos.

The bleachers are full of monsters who’ve come to watch, and their excitement rattles the rafters.

Competitors mill around poolside. Nymphs chase each other around the pool, harpies are climbing — or hanging off — the diving boards, a gargoyle, a minotaur, and a naga lounge in the deck chairs, and a few fauns are clustered off to the side awkwardly.

Heads turn when I enter. A ripple of interest goes through the room.

I hesitate by the door, suddenly aware that a lot of the gathered crowd are bigger than me, in some cases stronger, with claws and teeth and the kind of muscles you’d usually only find in magazines.

“Human!” Antoinette, a brindled harpy I’ve only met a couple times before, hurries over and thrusts a lifejacket at me. “Put this on. Everyone has to wear one.”

I glance around the pool and confirm my initial impression, which is that no one is wearing one.

“I don’t need one. I can swim.” I try a smile, but Antoinette gives me a ferocious stare in return, clutching her clipboard. Her cheek feathers flare dangerously.

“ Everyone . Has. To. Wear. One.” She plasters the lifejacket to my bare chest. “No exceptions. And you need to sign this waiver stating that if you drown, your family won’t sue us.”

“Uh, sure.” I take the lifejacket and the clipboard. Probably not a good time to argue.

After I sign the waiver, Antoinette points me toward the deep end of the pool, where I spot a familiar set of horns among the crowd. “Get a board from him. If you must,” she finishes, ominously.

I hurry away.

“You’re here!” Plato grins. “Thought you might’ve ditched us.”

“Nah. I wouldn’t miss it.” Plato’s wearing swim trunks that barely contain his enormous ass — and other bits, not that I’m looking — and expose sturdy thighs dusted with light brown fur and legs that end in cloven hooves. A whistle dangles from his neck. “Playing lifeguard today?”

“I’ve got my license, so Syril asked me to supervise. Mara’s the other lifeguard, she’ll be on the far side. Glad to see you joining in!”

“It’s for a good cause. I think.” Though I’m not so sure about it now — I feel a bit exposed, what with my small, mostly-naked human body.

“It’ll be fun,” Plato says brightly. “Make sure you wear that lifejacket, though. Poor Antoinette will have an aneurysm if you get dragged under and drowned just because some riiga couldn’t hold their instinct in check.”

“Is their instinct to drown me?” I eye the assorted company. A nearby humanoid who looks pretty damp gives me a wink and a grin, needle-like teeth flashing. She’s completely nude. I look away quickly.

“A bit.” Plato smiles ruefully.

I put the lifejacket on.

There are a lot of monsters competing, and definitely not just waterspirits. I see a handful of familiar faces besides Larch, but many I don’t recognize at all. So there is a whole wide world of monsters out there.

And then there’s me, the lone human.

It’s only after all the competitors have been grouped into sets that I realize none of the monsters are wearing their amulets.

“Uh, Antoinette?” I call as the harpy hurries by with her clipboard firmly in hand.

“Huh? Oh, good, you’ve got your lifejacket on. At least some people listen. I have no idea how I’m going to get Belle to stay on the board instead of swimming underneath. You read the rules, right?”

“I did,” I agree, bewildered. “But —”

“Thank goodness!” she huffs.

“Why is no one wearing their amulet?” I interject before she can rush off.

“Oh!” She pauses, looking me up and down. “Hm. It’s a private event — the owner knows Syril. Cameras are off, no humans allowed, etcetera. You don’t need that. In fact, it could be a hazard.” She holds out her hand. “Give.”

I gulp. Hand it over?

Antoinette gestures impatiently. Slowly, I lift the amulet off. Nothing changes — I’m still surrounded by monsters on all sides. I let it fall into her outstretched palm.

She cracks a smile that looks almost sympathetic. “It’ll be waiting for you after the event.”

“Thanks,” I croak.

She heads back to her post. It already feels weird not to have the weight of the amulet on my chest.

“It’s the prince!” the monster next to me suddenly exclaims, straightening out of her hunch. I politely avert my eyes, but all thoughts fly out of my head when I follow her gaze to see Lysander entering the stands.

He looks displeased — but by now I’ve figured out that’s just his I’m uncomfortable face.

He’s wearing a sheepskin jacket that looks like it belongs in the sixties, a pair of wide-legged, flowing pants, and a tunic-style shirt.

His hair is tied up in a neat tail. I have no idea why he dresses like he just came from Woodstock, but it’s weirdly… endearing.

He makes his way to the top of the bleachers where Syril sits. Orion was right — he’s totally gonna watch me make a fool of myself.

He might also watch you win, a voice in my head whispers. The thought gives me a tiny, ridiculous thrill.

Mine is one of the middle groups, so I take my paddle board to the back wall with the others. As the first group of monsters get in the water and mount their boards with varying levels of success, the monster next to me leans in.

“I’m going to swim the whole way,” she tells me with a wink.

I laugh nervously. “It’s Belle, right? I think you’re supposed to stay on the board.”

“Swimming will be the fastest. And under the water I won’t get distracted.” The gills on either side of her neck flare, and I get the impression she might be smelling me. “Can you swim?”

“Yep. I’m a great swimmer,” I say firmly.

“Ah.” Her gills slide shut. “Well, it would be nice to win. My sisters are here watching. They’ll be at the boat race, too.”

She points to the bleachers. Two women with identical dark hair sit in the middle row — one wears a severely cut black pant-suit and the other sports a pink blouse with ribbons in her hair. The one in pink waves at her.

“It will be good to represent them again this year,” she says wistfully. “Nice of the dryad to keep the old traditions alive.”

When she turns back I offer a smile, hoping a brief conversation means I’m no longer a potential snack. “They seem very supportive.”

“Oh, yes. Family is everything, you know.”

Plato blows his whistle and everyone around us perks up. I dare to take my eyes off Belle.

“A brief reminder of the rules,” he booms. “You must finish the race on top of the board, standing. No hitting others with the paddles. No direct sabotage. You lose points for time in the water.” Several boos follow. “The ten fastest times will join the regatta. On the whistle, go!”

The first round is chaos. Of the four trialists, only two manage to stay on their board more than half the time.

The other two give up and swim to the end before climbing back on.

The stout, gray harpy in the lane closest to me makes a valiant attempt to propel herself with the actual paddle, but she also keeps falling into the water and having to climb back up, each time looking more sorry than the last. The rest don’t even try, using their hands, wings, and other limbs with various levels of effectiveness.

Belle nudges me with a bony elbow. “I’ll swim so fast, the time deduction won’t even matter.”

At this rate, her strategy could be a winning one.

Luckily, the next two groups seem to get the hang of it. I’m starting to get nervous, though. Paddle boarding sounded easy when I agreed to this.

Plato yells out the times as each competitor reaches the end, reminding them at the end of the round that their time in the water will be deducted. Behind him, Antoinette scribbles madly on her clipboard. My eyes drift to Lysander.

His wings wave gently, stirring the stray hairs that’ve escaped his updo.

His eyes are fixed on the competition and he’s leaning forward slightly, engrossed.

I gulp and quickly look away. The brief encounter on the roof is still seared into my brain.

I said a lot of things without thinking.

I was dazzled by his earnest honesty. Then I touched him, and his eyes seemed to burn with blue fire.

If he was a human I’d think he was interested. But something holds me back. Not just the fact that he’s a fairy and a prince — it’s something about the way he freezes when I touch him. Freezes, then melts completely.

Like he wants it, but he’s scared.

It makes me think of high school, when guys would stare, then blow me off if I approached them.

They did it out of insecurity and inexperience — but if Lysander’s mixed signals stem from inexperience, I’m in bigger trouble than I thought.

Virgin monster is so far outta my wheelhouse it’s on the next ocean.