“Yes,” I confirm, surprised by the intensity of her reaction. “He’s okay. Well, he was injured, but he’s healing.”
Tears well in her amber eyes, catching the light like liquid gold. “I thought—” Her voice breaks. “After the Unveiling, when all our magic went haywire, his glamour would have failed instantly. I tried to find him, to see if I could help, but…”
She shakes her head. “The waters were chaos. So many exposed monsters retreating from humans, so many humans panicking. I searched the docks for weeks, hoping to catch some sign of him.”
She dashes tears away with the back of her hand. “He was my first real friend here, you know.” A watery smile touches her lips. “He used to bring me treasures from the ocean floor. Things no human would ever see.”
Something twists in my chest—a flash of unwarranted jealousy, immediately followed by guilt. Of course Roark had connections before me.
“He spoke highly of you,” I say. “He said you taught him how to navigate the human world.”
Iris laughs softly. “Oh,thatwas a project. His legs were noodles at first, even in human form. And the way he talked! Like he’d swallowed a nautical dictionary from 1850.” Her expression softens. “But he learned quickly. Became quite the charismatic captain.” She then focuses on me with renewed intensity. “How did you find him? Where is he now?”
I give her a condensed version of our meeting—the storm, the boathouse, the injuries—carefully omitting the more intimate details. As I speak, Iris’s expression shifts between concern, relief, and something like dawning comprehension.
“I see,” she says when I finish, a knowing smile playing at her lips. “And now you’ve come to me because…?”
I swallow. “He mentioned you helped him with a glamour before. To appear human. I thought maybe—”
“You want me to do it again,” she finishes, her smile fading. She moves to a cluttered workbench against one wall and idly adjusts some bottles. “I wish I could. Before the Great Unveiling, when magic was still hidden, still concentrated, I could have done it easily. Now…”
She holds up her hand, and a small sphere of golden light appears above her palm—beautiful but flickering unsteadily. “This is what I can manage now. Pretty, but not powerful. The Great Unveiling didn’t just reveal monsters—it changed how magic works in this world. It’s more… diffuse now. Less reliable.”
My heart sinks. “So there’s nothing you can do?”
Iris taps her chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t say that.” She begins rummaging through drawers, muttering to herself. “Not permanent, but maybe… Yes, this could work.”
She emerges with a small object clutched triumphantly in her hand—a silver pin shaped like a nautical compass, with intricate engravings along its edge.
“This,” she announces, “I can enchant. It’s not a permanent solution, but with my current magic, I could imbue this with enough power for a day-long glamour.”
“A day?” I echo, trying to hide my disappointment.
“A day,” she confirms with a sympathetic smile. “From sunrise to sunset. Once activated, it can’t be paused or extended. When the sun sets or if he takes it off, the magic fades, and he returns to his true form.”
I pick up the pin, surprised by its weight. The silver feels oddly warm, almost alive under my fingertips. “How would it work?”
“He’d wear it close to his chest. The first ray of morning sun would activate it, transforming him to his human appearance until the last light fades.”
I turn the pin over in my hand, thinking.
One day as a human—what would Roark do with it? What would we do together? The possibilities make my chest tight.
“The Maritime Festival,” I say suddenly.
Iris raises an eyebrow. “What about it?”
“It’s in two weeks. We could use the pin then. He could attend without anyone knowing what he really is.” I don’t mention Sebastian’s proposed monster-hunting reenactment, or how much I want Roark by my side when I oppose it.
“That would work,” Iris agrees. “But enchanting this will take nearly all my remaining magic reserves for some time. It’s not something I can do regularly.”
I look up sharply. “I can pay you. Whatever you need.”
She waves this away. “I don’t want your money, Ashe. Roark protected me when I was vulnerable. I owe him this much, at least.” Her amber eyes study me with that unnerving perception. “Besides, I think he’s found someone else to protect him now.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “We’re not—I mean, it’s complicated.”
“Of course it is. He’s a cthulhu, you’re a human, and this town has a history of hanging his kind as trophies.” She says it lightly, but her eyes hold centuries of wariness. “Love across boundaries is never simple.”
