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My hands tremble as I lift the crossbow. I rest a finger on the trigger. o;I’m sorry,” I say. “Truly. I know how frustrating it is to think you’re about to eat the best cheeseburger of your life and then, bam, nothing. But you can’t eat me because I’m actually really nice.”
The griffin makes a low cooing sound and hops closer, just short of the waterline. It eyes the foamy waves lapping at its curved toes, the black talons sunk halfway into the sand, then flicks its cunning gaze to me. The breeze ruffles the feathers that lift on either side of its white head to give him the appearance of pointed ears.
“God you’re beautiful.” I talk slowly, calmly, trying to will the predator away with my voice, my mind. “You don’t deserve to waste away in a cage . . . but you can’t hurt anyone else, so you have to go back.”
I hate sending this majestic creature to live in a tiny enclosure. It feels wrong deep in my gut, a travesty just as unjust as when the Fae abuse and hurt us.
Low cooing noises rumble from the creature’s deep chest. I find myself moving closer to it. Slowly. Hand held out.
The water is thigh-deep. Only seven feet stand between the savage, beautiful animal and me. Something forms between us, a bond so real I can almost touch it in the air. A torrent of emotions floods through me, nearly doubling me over.
The griffin’s agony is overwhelming. I see bars. I see a muddy floor and dirty water bowl. I see it throwing itself against its cage over and over as it tries to reach its mate, still somewhere in the wild. I feel its spirit shriveling smaller and smaller every day it lives in captivity.
The few hours I spent locked in a cage come flooding back. The terror. The panic.
I’m sorry, I think, willing him to hear me. I’m sorry they put you in a cage, and I’m sorry they took you from your mate. It isn’t right. Nothing should be forced to live that way.
Pulling its ivory wings tightly to its feline body, the griffin drops its head, bends down, and . . . bows.
I’m so focused on what the griffin’s doing that I barely register the churning water near my legs. Another swish drags my attention to the lake just as something moves beneath the emerald surface.
Fish?
A slick, heavy something brushes against my thigh.
So probably not a fish. Because this day hasn’t been bad enough.
Dragging my gaze from the griffin, I blink down into the murky depths. Something nags at me. Something important. A warning that prickles my spine with alarming intensity.
The griffin’s wings flare as its golden eyes shift to the water. Behind me. Then it screeches so loudly I can feel it in my bones and begins dragging its talons through the sand.
“Don’t move!” a female voice commands.
I follow the familiar voice to the embankment twenty yards away. Eclipsa! We were supposed to meet by the lake for sunrise yoga before our session. A crowd forms behind her, including Professor Balefire, the Mythological Creatures professor.
Standing alone, the Spring Prince watches from the other side of the lake. Unlike the others, his face isn’t the least bit concerned for my welfare.
If his lazy smirk is any indication, he’s rather amused by the whole affair.
I face Eclipsa. “It’s okay. It won’t go in the water.”
Oh crap—why does Eclipsa look like she wants to murder me? “Summer, did you forget why no one swims in the Lake of Sorrows?”
And . . . just like that, I remember there are selkies in this water. Hungry, flesh-eating selkies.
My heart flails into a mad gallop as I glance left and right. Heads poke just above the surface. Heads with inhumanly large, curious eyes, bright flowing hair that pools around the water like kelp, and rows of glittering teeth perfectly capable of sheering flesh from bone.
There’s a ravenous look in their alien faces that steals my breath.
“You don’t want anything to do with me,” I say, trying to reach out with my mind the same way I did with the griffin. “I taste horrible. Worse than my Aunt Zinnia’s cornbread.”
Thank God Zinnia can’t hear my blasphemous statement. She’d never forgive me.
A pang of regret nearly doubles me over. Shimmer save me, if I die in the Everwilde, Zinnia would never recover. Not after losing her first daughter to the Fae.
I have to fight my way out of this no matter what it takes. But my voice only seems to draw the selkies closer.
Should I make a dash for the shore? The griffin blocks my way . . . but right now he seems like the lesser of the two evils.
