“Nonna, no!”
My grandmother’s complexion is pale as frost. “Get out of the water now, Fallon!”
“It wasn’t—”
“Out!” Her voice bursts with nerves that strum my already frantic pulse.
I swim to the embankment. The onlookers are still, as though someone has cast a spell over the kingdom and turned everyone to stone.
I grab the slick cobbles and heave my wet body out, flopping onto my back to catch my breath. “I’m safe. Now let it go, Nonna. Please.”
Blood has begun to dribble from where the vines dig into its scales.
I roll up into sitting. “Nonna, please!”
She snaps out of her daze, and the vines release the serpent, who plummets with a soft whine.
Veins of fire coat the commander’s palm. “What magic does your granddaughter wield, Ceres?”
“Kindness. That is Fallon’s only magic.” Nonna kneels beside me and cups my cheeks, and although no tears glisten on her long lashes, her eyes shine with fear. “You almost stopped my immortal heart, Goccolina. And over what? Rowan branches?”
Branches I failed to retrieve.
I look toward the canal for my bushel and then keep looking because the serpent rests listlessly on the sandy bottom, inky blood blooming from its body like dye.
Nonna grips my chin and redirects my eyes onto hers. “Never again.”
Does she mean chase after sprites, dive into a canal, or pet a serpent? Probably all three.
The commander snaps his fingers closed. “You will be fined for the use of magic, Ceres.”
Nonna doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look his way. “Home. Now.” There is no pliancy to her tone, or to her fingers, or to the arm she winds around my waist after I’ve regained my footing.
In silence, she tugs me back across the market, toward our baskets that are near empty, plundered by hungry half-bloods or more sprites. After stacking them, she hooks them onto her forearm. Even though I try to help, a pointed glare stops me from insisting.
When we reach our two-storied house on one of the farthest islands, Nonna slams the piled baskets down onto the kitchen table and braces her palms on the thick slab of wood. Her spine is hunched, her torso rising and falling.
I step toward her and press my hand against her curved spine. A sob splinters the air, lodges itself inside my small, beating heart.
“I’m safe, Nonna. Please don’t cry. I’m safe.”
“You’re anything but safe,” she snaps, glaring up at the ceiling toward the room Mamma never leaves.
“It didn’t harm me; it healed me. Look.” I wiggle my fingers in front of her eyes.
She presses them away. “I’m not talking about the serpent; I’m talking about the commander.” Her rushed words float like specks of dust. “He will come and take you away.”
“For having survived a swim in the canal?”
“No, Goccolina. For having charmed a beast.”
“Charmed? I merely petted it, Nonna.”
“Have you ever heard of Fae petting serpents?”
No. I haven’t. “I’m a water-Fae. Maybe my magic is finally manifesting.”
“Water-Fae can control water but they cannot charm beasts.” She heaves in a deep breath. “When the royal guards knock, you will insist on being given salt—”
