Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

Whatever they were, they gleamed wickedly sharp in the phosphorescent light, and I had no interest in meeting the receiving end of them.

“Beau,” I murmured, smiling pleasantly at their hostile faces as they swam closer. Closer still. “Apologize, you blithering idiot.”

He backed into me, nearly breaking my foot. I stomped on his toes in return. He swore roundly, snarling, “They couldn’t have heard me.”

Coco spoke through her own fixed smile, imitating Célie, who curtsied low, and elbowed Beau when he didn’t do the same. “Good idea. Let’s risk it.”

“It was an honest question—”

The melusines didn’t pause at the walls of water, instead gliding seamlessly through them and stepping—actually stepping—onto the footpath, their split tails transforming to legs before our very eyes. The scales on their fins disappeared, and glistening skin wrapped around feet, ankles, calves, thighs, and—

A beat of silence passed as Beau’s alarm promptly vanished, replaced by a wide, shit-eating grin.

They were naked.

And, contrary to Angelica’s assertion, they looked very human. Célie gasped.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Beau said to the one in front, bending to kiss her long-fingered hand. He hesitated for only a second when he saw she had one extra knuckle per finger. Each clenched around her spear as she pointed it at his face, hissing and revealing a pair of thin fangs.

“You dare to touch me without permission?”

The male nearest her lifted his trident to emphasize her words. Unlike the female, he wore a thick golden rope around his neck, its emerald pendant the size of a goose egg. Matching twin emeralds glittered at his tapered ears. “He likened us to amphibians as well.” When he tilted his head, the movement was predatory. His silver eyes glittered with menace. “Do we appear as amphibians?”

Angelica swept into a deep, immaculate curtsy. “He meant no offense, Aurélien.”

Beau lifted placating hands, nodding along hastily. “I meant no offense.”

The female slanted her black eyes at him. Against her narrow silver face and her long—long—silver hair, they appeared . . . disconcerting. And far too large. Indeed, everything about her and her kin’s features seemed disproportionate somehow. Not wrong, exactly. Just . . . strange. Striking. Like a beautiful portrait meant to be studied, not admired. She didn’t lower her weapon. “Yet still I hear no apology. Does the human prince think us ugly? Does he think us strange?”

Yes.

The answer rose to my lips, unbidden, but I bit my tongue at the last second, frowning and averting my gaze. The movement attracted the melusine’s attention, however, and those black eyes turned to me, flicking over the planes of my face. Studying me. She grinned with dark cunning, and my stomach dropped with realization.

The women who dwell here are truth tellers.

Drink of the waters, and spill their truth.

Oh god.

Beau, who’d quashed his own answer with a strangled sound, cast me a panicked look. I returned it full measure. If we couldn’t lie, if we’d been forced into a kingdom of literal truth—

If he didn’t kill us, I certainly would.

Either way, we’d all be dead by night’s end.

Beau tried to speak again, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the melusine’s face. His throat bobbed against the tip of her spear. “Of course you do not look like a frog, mademoiselle, and I am grievously sorry for the implication. Indeed, you are quite—” The lie stuck in his throat, and his mouth gaped open and closed, like the fish who’d gathered to watch our inevitable demise. “Quite—”

“Lovely,” Célie finished, her voice earnest and firm. “You are lovely.”

The melusines regarded Célie with open curiosity, and the silver-haired female slowly lowered her spear. Beau swallowed visibly as she inclined her head. The others followed suit, some bowing deeply, others curtsying. The one called Aurélien even extended his hand to her, pressing an emerald earring into her palm. “You are welcome here, Célie Tremblay.” The silver-haired melusine’s lip curled as she glanced back at Beau. “More so than your companions.”

Célie curtsied again, smaller this time. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle . . . ?”

“I am Elvire, the Oracle’s Hand.” The melusine smiled in approval at Célie’s impeccable manners, and another of her companions looped a strand of pretty white pearls around Célie’s neck. They looked ridiculous against her tattered gown, but Célie didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you.” She lifted a hand in surprise, stroking them gently, before pushing the single emerald stud through her pierced earlobe. She looked like a magpie. “I shall treasure each one.”

Beau stared at her incredulously.

“They suit you.” Elvire nodded before gesturing toward her companions. “We are here to escort you into the Oracle City. This is Aurélien”—she pointed to the bejeweled but otherwise naked merman—“Olympienne”—another mermaid, this one the palest lavender with diamonds adorning her teeth—“Leopoldine”—a third with thin golden chains sparkling along her charcoal torso—“Lasimonne and Sabatay.” She finished with two onyx mermen. One boasted rubies in his nipples, while the other’s eyes glowed milky white. Seaweed wound through his braided hair. “We are simply enchanted to meet you. If you would be so kind as to walk beside me, Mademoiselle Célie, I would much appreciate your company.”