Isla

  I leaned back against the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around me as Finn’s words lingered in the air between us. I didn’t know what to do with it, the way he’d said it like it was a fact, like he could see something in me that I’d never seen in myself. I wasn’t lightning. I wasn’t sharp or powerful or anything like that. At best, I was a barely flickering candle, holding on just enough to keep the darkness away.

  And yet, there he was, so damn sure of himself.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Freya had slithered back toward me, content now, her earlier tension melted away. He hardly flinched, even when she’d started to squeeze. He’d been steady, calm, completely unbothered.

  “Why don’t you ride rollercoasters?” I asked suddenly, surprising even myself.

  Finn raised a brow, his lips twitching slightly. “Is that what you’re hung up on?”

  “It’s a weird thing to admit,” I muttered, tucking the blanket under my chin. “Especially when there was no reason to bring it up in the first place.”

  His smile deepened, and he shrugged one shoulder. “Seemed like a good distraction at the time.”

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the corner of my mouth from quirking upward. “Still doesn’t answer the question.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, stretching out his legs. “The truth is…I just never got around to it.”

  His tone was light, but something about the way he said it made me pause. There was a weight there, something he wasn’t saying.

  “You’re weird,” I said finally, narrowing my eyes at him.

  His laugh was soft, almost under his breath. “Takes one to know one.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. The room settled into a comfortable silence, the kind that was rare for me these days. My snakes shifted slightly, their movements slow and lazy now, as if they’d decided he was no longer a threat. A few of them rested against my shoulders, their presence grounding in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

  I stole another glance at Finn, his head tilted back against the couch, his eyes half-closed. There was something about him—something steady, warm. Something that felt like the kind of quiet you don’t get often but always crave.

  Lightning.

  I frowned, staring down at my hands. Maybe he saw something I didn’t. Or maybe he was just projecting, assigning meaning where there wasn’t any. Either way, it didn’t matter. Not really.

  “I should head to bed,” I said, breaking the silence.

  Finn’s eyes opened, his gaze flicking to me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said quickly, standing and wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “Just tired.”

  He watched me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded. “Okay, but tomorrow we need to make a solid plan and make sure we’re on the same page when it comes to Posiedon.”

  I winced a little but nod. I knew he was right, and even with it hanging over my head and the real danger we’re talking about, I just didn’t want to think about it tonight.

  “Goodnight, elding.” I heard him murmur.

  I didn’t respond, didn’t look back as I headed down the hall to my room. The word lingered in my mind, though, like a spark I couldn’t quite extinguish.

  Lightning.

  I didn’t know if I believed it, but I didn’t hate the way it sounded.

  The door clicked softly behind me, and I stood still for a moment, letting the quiet settle over me. My fingers moved to loosen my hair, pulling it into a high bun to give the snakes room to stretch. As soon as I did, they began to move, their scales catching the dim light. I had a large, full length mirror that occupied much of one wall, this allowed me to look and see my snakes more directly when they are atop my head. I look into it now as I straighten my messy bun.

  “All right, girls,” I murmured. “You’ve been patient. Let’s get you some air.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Noodle, ever the first, slipped down my arm to coil gently around my wrist. Her tongue flicked once, as if checking on me. “Hi, Noodle,” I said, stroking her lightly. “You’re always first, aren’t you?”

  Freya stayed near the top of my head, as expected. Her lazy nature was almost endearing—almost. She shifted slightly, her tail curling tighter against my bun like a spoiled cat settling in for a nap.

  Poppy stretched out toward my shoulder, her small, inquisitive tongue darting as she explored. “Careful,” I told her. “That lamp is not for climbing.”

  Viper coiled protectively around my neck for a moment, her watchful demeanor never wavering. She loosened slightly when I touched her head. “Thank you, Vipes,” I whispered.

  My gaze shifted to the newest additions. They were so small—barely eight inches long—and hovered close to my shoulders, their movements tentative. I felt a pang of tenderness watching them.

  The shimmery green one with faint gold speckles seemed the boldest, stretching forward hesitantly. “Lyra,” I decided, reaching up to touch her smooth scales. She tilted her small head as if testing the name, then curled loosely near my collarbone.

  Next, the dark, sleek snake with silver markings ventured closer to my ear. “Helen,” I murmured, watching her tiny tongue flick. She hesitated before resting along my shoulder.

  The pale, faintly glowing snake stayed tucked near my neck, almost timid. “Luna,” I said softly. Her head lifted slightly at the sound, her body relaxing.

  My lips twitched as I noticed the smallest of the group—a patchy, piebald snake with a spunky energy despite her size. “Kevin,” I said with a wry smile. “Yes, you’re a girl, and yes, you’re Kevin.”

  Kevin wriggled toward the base of my neck, her tiny body curling tightly.

  The vivid orange one with a fiery stripe across her back moved the slowest, weaving back and forth like she couldn’t decide where to go. My chest tightened as Finn’s voice echoed in my mind. Elding. Lightning.

  The word hovered on my tongue, but I shook my head. “Not today,” I whispered. Instead, I said, “Blaze,” and the little snake froze for a moment, her tongue flicking in approval before settling near my other shoulder.

  I leaned against the headboard, my snakes adjusting themselves as I moved. Noodle stayed comfortably across my wrist, Poppy settled near my shoulder, and Viper curled protectively once more. The newer ones found their places: Lyra, Helen, Luna, Kevin, and Blaze—all so small, yet already making themselves at home. Earlier in the week, I’d named my other new ones: Bronze, Satin, Leighton, Jonesy and Lentil.

  The room was quiet except for the faint rustle of scales. I let out a long breath, my fingers brushing gently over each snake.

  “You’re good girls,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “All of you.”

  Kevin gave a tiny nudge against my neck, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, you too, Kevin.”

  Closing my eyes, I let the warmth of their presence surround me. My snakes were my armor, my shield, but in moments like this, they were also my peace.

  In that moment, I remembered the stunt Freya had pulled earlier and my eyes snap open. Looking into the mirror so I can see her. Freya perched high on my bun, her golden coils gleaming smugly under the soft light. Her posture screamed defiance, and every flick of her tongue felt like a silent retort.

  “Alright, Freya,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Timeout. Effective immediately.”

  Her tongue flicked lazily, completely unbothered.

  I jabbed a finger toward her. “Don’t act innocent. You know what you did. Constricting on Finn’s arm like that? Absolutely unacceptable. I told you to stop, and you didn’t listen. You can’t just—”

  Thena slid between us, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Her bright white scales with the faint pink sheen glinted, and her sharp gaze pinned me in place.

  “Oh, don’t start,” I huffed, crossing my arms. “You’re defending her? Seriously? You saw what happened!”

  Thena didn’t blink. She stayed right where she was, her head tilted slightly, watching me with unnerving calm.

  “Fine,” I muttered, glaring at her. “I’ll admit that maybe—maybe—my feelings could’ve swayed her at first. But she wouldn’t stop, Thena! That’s not on me.”

  Thena shifted closer, her tongue flicking out. The weight of her stare made my resolve waver, but I held my ground.

  “No,” I said firmly, shaking my head. “This isn’t all on me. I told her to stop, and she didn’t. She ignored me, Thena. That’s on her.”

  Freya’s head tilted over Thena’s shoulder, her tongue flicking with irritating calm.

  “Oh, don’t you start,” I snapped, glaring at Freya. “You heard me. You knew I wanted you to stop, and you didn’t. That’s on you.”

  Thena didn’t move, her eyes still locked on mine, unyielding and unreadable.

  I sighed, frustration bubbling beneath my skin. “What? You think I’m just supposed to roll over and take the blame for everything?”

  Neither snake moved, their silence louder than any argument they could’ve made.

  “Unbelievable,” I muttered, turning my gaze to the ceiling. “You’re both impossible. I hope you know that.”

  Freya slithered closer, nestling herself into the crook of my neck with maddening ease. Her smooth scales pressed against my skin, and I could feel her smug satisfaction radiating like heat.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, stroking her absently. “You’re lucky I love you.”

  Thena stayed where she was, watching me like she was waiting for something. But the moment hung heavy, unresolved, and I wasn’t about to cave. Not this time.

  “I’m not wrong,” I said softly, my fingers trailing over Freya’s coils. “She wouldn’t stop, and that’s not on me.”

  Thena’s tongue flicked, her gaze steady but quieter now. The tension between us lingered, an unspoken agreement to leave the matter unsettled—for now.

  With a sigh, I leaned back against the pillows, letting the weight of my exhaustion pull me down. “Fine,” I muttered to no one in particular. “Timeout’s over. But this isn’t over, Freya. Not even close.”

  Freya flicked her tongue again, a small, smug response that sent a ripple of exasperation through me.

  Thena, for her part, remained motionless—watchful, silent, and unyielding.

  I closed my eyes, my fingers still resting on Freya’s golden scales. The room settled into quiet, but the unease lingered, curling at the edges of my thoughts like smoke. Finn kept saying I wasn’t safe, that Poseidon’s people were getting closer. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’d think about it.