Isla

  I stepped out of the office, rolling my neck to ease the tension that had built up after hours of staring at my screen. My new snakes stretched with me, the smaller ones flicking their tongues at the air, testing their surroundings.

  It was strange, how quickly I’d grown used to them. To all of them. What would’ve felt alien centuries ago now felt as natural as breathing. Like they weren’t just part of me—they were me.

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

  Finn’s gaze landed on me as soon as I stepped into the room. I could feel it, the weight of his eyes tracking every movement. He wasn’t subtle. He didn’t even try to be.

  I ignored him, walking toward the kitchen for another glass of water. My scalp still prickled from the new growth, and I needed to hydrate before the headache lurking behind my temples turned into something worse.

  But then I caught his expression, just for a moment—a flicker of something sharp and unguarded as his gaze flicked to the back of my head.

  The new snakes.

  He was looking at them.

  My hand froze halfway to the faucet as heat rose to my cheeks. I’d pulled my hair up earlier without thinking, letting the newer snakes get a feel for the space, but now it felt… exposed.

  His eyes didn’t hold pity, though. That would’ve been worse. Instead, there was something else there—something quieter, heavier.

  I hated it.

  I turned away, letting the glass fill under the tap as I quickly yanked the hair tie out. The snakes shifted as my hair fell back around my shoulders, their movements smoothing into something more relaxed.

  Better.

  When I turned back around, Finn was still watching me, but his expression had shifted into something unreadable. That faint furrow in his brow—the one that said he was thinking too much—was still there, though.

  “You’re staring again,” I said flatly, crossing my arms.

  His lips quirked, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through. “Am I?”

  “Yes,” I said sharply, though my tone didn’t quite carry the bite I wanted it to.

  He didn’t answer, just leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed like he had all the time in the world.

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  The snakes flicked their tongues in his direction, curious but calm. Even Noodle seemed less interested in testing him today. I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair—and immediately regretted it as Poppy curled closer in protest, flicking her tongue against my jaw like she was scolding me.

  “You’re impossible,” I muttered, stepping past him to grab the mug I’d left on the counter earlier.

  “And yet, you keep me around,” he said lightly.

  “Temporary insanity,” I shot back, but my voice lacked conviction.

  Because the truth was, I wasn’t sure why I’d let him stay.

  I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

  Finn leaned casually against the counter, watching as I rinsed out my mug. His silence was unnerving, not because it felt tense, but because it didn’t.

  “We’re going,” I said abruptly, breaking the quiet.

  His brow arched slightly. “You’re ready to step into the wide, dangerous world with me?”

  I rolled my eyes, grabbing my coat from the hook by the door. “Let’s not make it sound more dramatic than it is. You have ‘business,’ and I want to know what that means. So yes, I’m ready.”

  He smirked, pushing off the counter. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I fought the urge to glare and pulled on my coat, the snakes shifting restlessly at my shoulders.

  “You’re curious,” he noted, holding the door open for me.

  I walked by him, nodding in thanks, choosing not to respond to his remark.

  “You should cover them,” Finn said from behind me, his tone softer than usual.

  I turned, raising an eyebrow. “Since when are you the expert on snake etiquette?”

  He leaned against the doorframe, his dark eyes steady. “I’m all for self-acceptance, Isla. You could walk out there with your snakes in full view and be every bit as untouchable as you are now.”

  I rolled my eyes, draping the scarf over my shoulders. “But?”

  “But,” he said, stepping closer, “Poseidon’s guys might be watching. And they’ll recognize you the second they catch a glimpse of those snakes.”

  The snakes shifted, their unease prickling against the edges of my thoughts. Poppy brushed against my jaw, her warmth steady but heavy. Even Viper, who rarely showed restraint, stilled slightly at Finn’s words.

  “I know how to stay hidden,” I said sharply, pulling the scarf snug around my neck.

  Finn didn’t flinch at the edge in my voice. “I know you do,” he said evenly. “But hiding isn’t the same as blending in. If they think you’re just another mage, they might overlook you entirely.”

  The snakes bristled at his reasoning, their collective energy buzzing against my skin. I could feel their irritation mirroring mine, but deep down, I knew he wasn’t wrong.

  I adjusted the scarf, tucking the smaller snakes into the folds. The older ones complied quickly, their movements practiced and fluid, but the newer ones twitched and squirmed, their inexperience making them harder to contain.

  “Better?” I muttered, glancing at Finn.

  His gaze flicked over me, lingering on the edges of the scarf where a stubborn little snake poked its head out. He reached out, brushing the scarf gently to coax it back into place.

  “It’s better,” he said quietly. “It’s near impossible to hide the energy you radiate, but the snakes being out of sight helps a little.”

  Opal darted forward, flicking her tongue toward his hand before retreating back beneath the fabric. Finn’s lips twitched into a faint smile, his dark eyes softening.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, as started down the hallway.

  “For what?” he asked, his tone light but genuine.

  “For not making this about self-love or inner strength,” I said dryly.

  Finn chuckled, falling into step beside me. “Don’t worry. I’ll save the motivational speeches for later.”

  The snakes hissed softly in response, their irritation fading as I stepped into the cool morning air. Finn’s presence at my side was steady, solid, as if he belonged there.

  And for once, I didn’t hate it.