The ocean stretched wide and endless, and she let herself breathe it in.
They made their way inside when the loudspeaker announced the sandwich station was open, and Emmy rolled her eyes at Felix, first in line, stacking all the veggies high on slices of sourdough bread.
Her nose told her the meats included roast beef, turkey, chicken, pastrami, pepperoni, and pulled pork.
Ajax built his sandwiches with soldierly precision, each exactly the same with a little of every kind of meat, while Arabella focused on veggies with only a little roast beef. Andshe noted that Ajax built four sandwiches while Arabella had two.
Emmy opted for a lot of every kind of meat, but didn’t try to get everything onto one sandwich. She added some mushrooms and pickled beets to all three, and wished she could add raw onions. None of the other veggies appealed. There were lots of potato chip options, and she opted for the brand that fries them in coconut oil.
Back at their table, Spence joined them with his own plate, expression unreadable, though he paused when a ripple of tourists pressed toward the starboard railing. A shout went up — sea otters bobbing in the harbor kelp.
They could easily see them from their table, and Spence rose to look along with the rest. “Wow, I love the way they hold paws with each other.”
“They’re adorable,” Emmy agreed, leaning forward, and finally walking to the railing with him. Her dragon eyesight let her see them in detail despite the distance — slick brown heads, lazy rolls onto their backs, whiskers twitching. There was something magnetic in the way the otters floated together, waves rocking them in rhythm.
“Beyond adorable,” Rhea said, her grin soft as she tucked some loose hair behind her ear and leaned against the railing.
They returned to their table to eat, cutting up with each other, comparing sandwiches, and keeping an eye on the moving scenery.
Emmy ate her fill of the best sandwiches she could ever remember eating. What was it about the sea air and boats that just makes you hungry?
Felix licked mustard from his thumb and leaned back against the bench. “Okay, we’ve got whales, puffins, and eagles checked off the list. What’s left? Narwhals? Mermaids?”
“Don’t tempt fate,” Rhea said dryly, though the corner of her mouth twitched.
Ajax methodically finished the last of a sandwich, wiped his fingers, and rested a massive forearm on the table. “Mermaids don’t seem likely.”
Arabella bumped him with her shoulder and spoke softly, “Of course you’d think that.”
Felix leaned closer to Emmy. “What about you? What do you want to see? And don’t say a dragon or mermaid, because we all knowthosedon’t exist.”
Emmy popped a chip into her mouth, chewed, then shrugged. “I want to see orcas in a pod, maybe bubble-net feeding, something clever. I like predators that aren’t bound by cages or contracts.”
The table went quiet for a second. Ajax studied her, unreadable, before looking away again. Arabella reached for her water, gaze flicking between them like she wanted to smooth the air.
Rhea cleared her throat. “Emmy, weren’t you going to tell us about your school project? The genetics thing?”
Emmy glanced at her and realized Rhea was steering the conversation back into safer water. She could play along.
Chapter 12
“Yeah,” she said. “The university accepted my master’s thesis proposal. I can’t exactly put swans and dragons in it, or even something simpler, like wolves and werewolves, so I picked something with enough data and a real-world angle: domesticated rabbits versus eastern cottontails. They’re close, but not the same species. Some overlap, some genetic incompatibility. It’s a controlled way to study hybridization.”
Felix predictably perked up. “If you want to make a better rabbit, I’m all ears over here.”
That earned him a burst of laughter from the table, Rhea loudest of all. Even Arabella giggled, and Ajax kissed the top of her head with an affectionate smile.
Emmy gave Felix a lopsided half-smile. “Any experiments I do with you will go in anentirelydifferent direction.”
Before anyone could respond, she kept going. “Cottontails can’t be easily domesticated. They’re wild through and through, but their genome has enough similarities to domestic breeds that people have tried to force crosses for centuries. Sometimes you get viable offspring, but usually not, and there’s no way to know unless you try. I want to map where the line really is.”
Maren leaned in, brows high. “So you’d be figuring out what makes one species compatible with another?”
“Exactly. Where the DNA can stitch together, and where it unravels. If I can show a reliable pattern in rabbits, it builds a case for broader study — foxes, coyotes, wolves. Eventually, it could answer the hybrid question in a way no one’s managed yet.”
Toby tilted his head, interest sharpening. “You’ll publish that?”
“Yes. Peer-reviewed, accessible, the whole deal.” Emmy sat back, a little thrill running through her at the thought. “It has to be bulletproof, though. Genetics is political, whether people admit it or not.”
