“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.

I lift my arms, ready to make a break for it—

“Freeze, girl!” Professor Balefire slides down the side of the embankment, pebbles disturbing the pond below. “They’re attracted to movement.”

The selkies turn their hungry gazes on the professor in unison and then slowly back to me.

He holds up a wooden bucket and pours the entire disgusting contents into the water. It looks like some type of . . . raw meat. Bleck.

Dark red blood blooms along the foamy waves.

A few selkies dart beneath the water, their silky fins churning the lake as they scramble for the food.

But most don’t give the bait a second glance.

“It’s troll meat meant for the harpies,” the professor calls, tapping the bucket like it’s a dinner bell. “Best I could do short notice.”

Hellebore’s chuckle carries on the soft breeze. “Selkies prefer their food live so they can play with it first.”

Fae-freaking-tastic.

Eclipsa leaps to the shore. Her sharp focus darts between the selkies, Hellebore, and the griffin, making it clear that she sees all three as equal threats.

Her favorite jeweled dagger glints from her hand. I frown at the thin, delicate blade. It’s her favorite because it can be easily hidden, and when used by someone with her particular set of skills, can end someone’s life quickly, without much blood or mess.

But I’m not sure how finesse will help in this situation. Against selkies and larger, winged predators like the griffin, it’s way too small to do much damage . . . but, no. She’s bending the blade so that the sapphire in the middle of the hilt catches the sun and sends blue jewels of light skipping across the lake.

Do selkies like shiny things? I get my answer when the rest of the slippery creatures turn their terrifying hunger from me to the sparkly shards dancing around them.

The water vibrates with their strange purring sounds as they slowly begin to circle this new temptation. They pounce on the lights, snarling their frustration when the sparkles move just out of reach.

The trick works. Slowly, Eclipsa draws them away from me.

While Eclipsa and the professor work to keep the selkies’ attention, Hellebore has meandered his way around the other side. He stops a healthy distance from the griffin. I can tell by the way he stares at the beast that he feels the same admiration for it that I do.

Which is why, when he tosses the loaded crossbow at me, I stare at the weapon in confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

He lifts a honey-gold eyebrow, that lazy irreverence oozing from his every move. “Whatever you want. Pick your teeth with it, for all I care. But if you desire to actually leave the watery grave you stand in, you’ll send a bolt through that glorious creature’s heart.”

“The hell I will,” I snap, glaring at him.

Hellebore flashes his teeth in a bored smile. “Fine. Watching a griffin slaughter you or one of your classmates will be entertaining, at least.”

“I’ll swim to the other side.”

His focus slides to the selkies and back to me; the arrogance inside those turquoise depths make me want to carve them out and feed them to the selkies. “You will be dead before you make it ten feet, but good luck with that.”

I flick a sideways glance at the griffin, relieved to see its focus is still very much on me. “And how do you know it won’t kill you?”

“Griffins are highly intelligent creatures. They don’t prey on other apex predators unless defending themselves.”

Other apex predators? This guy takes the arrogant Fae stereotype to a whole new level of douchery.

He runs a hand over the cropped side of his silky blond hair. Probably habit from staring into the mirror for hours on end. “Besides, last I checked, I can fly. Can you? How about any of your mortal friends?”

Fly? I briefly wonder what shifter type allows him that ability before honing in on his statement. My friends.

Clutching the handle of the crossbow, I glance at the shadows on the embankment. Like the idiot tourists at the game parks that leave the safety of their cars to take selfies with grizzly bears, the mortal students keep coming. Drawn in by the promise of watching my humiliation unfold, they’ve completely ignored the wild griffin’s presence.

A few extra-special ones throw pebbles at the griffin, trying to agitate it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I mutter. “This is Darwinism at its finest.”

The griffin’s head jerks to stare at the crowd. That’s when I spot Mack running across the lawn, Ruby in tow.

Oh, hell. A fresh wave of panic grips me. My brain supplies unhelpful images of her being dropped from hundreds of feet above.

“Order them to leave,” I plead. I hate how whiny my voice sounds, how weak, but I’m out of options.

“Why? There’s a lesson here.”

“A lesson? On what? Asshole Fae princes?”

“No, natural selection.” His lips are still curved upward, but his blue eyes darken to storm clouds. “Although, I am beginning to think you need a lesson on how to behave when speaking to an Evermore, little pet.”

This is going nowhere, and any minute, the selkies will tire of chasing Eclipsa’s sparkles and turn their attention back to me.

I pivot to face the griffin. Don’t eat them, I silently command, but the certainty from before is gone.

Am I really going to risk lives over an imagined connection with a wild predator? Any moment, he could pick one of them off. Maybe Mack.

Nausea heats my belly at the thought of having to explain to her dads why I hesitated.

My hands tremble as I lift the crossbow. I rest a finger on the trigger.