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

I eyed her plate suspiciously, feeling very much like I’d failed to prepare for a schoolroom test. “I thought the salted sea lettuce was her favorite?”

He blinked at me before turning to Leopoldine, who nodded gravely. “It is true. Sargassum was her favored dish yesterday.”

Oh god.

“Dear me.” Lasimonne lifted a horrified hand to his chest before bowing deeply over Célie’s plate of sargassum. “My apologies, mademoiselle. Of course you must sample the salted sea lettuce instead. Good gracious. The Oracle would not have forgotten such a slight.”

Beau and I exchanged wide-eyed glances.

Without another word, I heaped salted sea lettuce onto first my plate, then Beau’s. “To the right of the dinner fork,” he muttered discreetly as I studied the mismatched cutlery on either side of my plate. I speared a leaf with the tiny fork, but before I could lift it to my mouth, Beau stopped me with the curt shake of his head. “Cut it first. Were you raised in a barn?”

Heat licked at my cheeks as I returned the leaf to my plate, searching for the proper knife.

Elvire sipped at the effervescent liquid in her flute as Célie cut her own lettuce into exemplary pieces. “Yes,” the former said, “the Oracle positively banished Guillaumette for the gaffe last week.”

“An insipid woman,” Leopoldine added conspiratorially. “I never cared for her.”

Elvire fixed her with a cool stare, lifting a silver brow. “Verily? Is she not the godmother of your daughter?”

Leopoldine abruptly busied herself with her own drink, unable to answer.

“Where is Angelica?” I focused on cutting my sea lettuce into perfect squares, lest Elvire or Leopoldine or the octopi in the street take offense and feed me to the giant squid. “Will she be joining us?”

Lasimonne stared at me as if I were the giant squid. “Of course she is.” Though clearly vexed that I’d spoken at all, he didn’t hesitate to pour me a flute of the effervescent liquid. So polite. So fascinating. If I spilled my plate in his lap, would he thank me? “She is the most treasured of the Oracle’s companions. I daresay she will arrive with Our Lady herself.”

I bit my tongue before I could ask when that would be—then ran it over my teeth to check for bits of sea lettuce, just in case. Apparently, tardiness wasn’t as heinous a gaffe as forgetting Her Ladyship’s favorite food. Lifting the flute to my lips instead, I simply nodded. Then choked.

It was seawater.

With a forced smile, Beau patted my back as I spluttered, pressing his foot atop my own under the table. “There, there.” He handed me a folded napkin before saying to the others, “Please pardon my dear sister. She must have a sensitive gag reflex.”

I snorted again, unable to help myself, and kicked Beau’s foot from mine.

Two more liveried melusines stepped into the banquet hall then, each holding an enormous conch shell. As one, they lifted the shells to their lips and blew. The call reverberated through the chamber, rattling china and chandeliers, as the melusines around us swept to their feet.

The Oracle followed a moment later.

I could only stare at her.

Quite simply, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

Her hair rippled like water down her shoulders as she floated into the room, casting her ethereal silver gaze in our direction. When her eyes met mine, I saw not iris and sclera but tranquil moonlight on the sea, silken foam along the shore. I saw cresting waves and flashing scales—primordial creatures of teeth and shadow who awoke with the darkness. I saw tempests to tear apart kingdoms, secrets bared and secrets kept. Secrets drowned in boundless depths.

Then she smiled at me, and a shiver skittered down my spine. In that smile, I saw chaos.

Pure, unadulterated chaos.

Angelica walked behind her, head bowed and hands clasped. She caught Coco’s eye as they approached, winking covertly, before resuming her pious stance. The Oracle looked only at me. I straightened as furtively as I could, painfully aware of my damp palms, but otherwise, I didn’t cower. Claud had once described himself as the Wild, and in his true form, I’d believed it. The Oracle didn’t need to assume her true form for me to understand. From the misty, nameless color of her hair and skin to the liquid movement of her body, she was the sea. And the sea drowned those who couldn’t swim.

“Je vous voir, Louise.” To my great surprise, her voice held a calming, tranquil note, like still waters at dawn. “Bienvenue to the Crystal Palace. I have long awaited your arrival.”

I curtsied with the others. “I’m happy to be here. Thank you for interfering at the beach.”

Her silver eyes—so like Angelica’s, yet so different—sparkled with amusement. “Ah. The beach. We shall speak at length about that happy coincidence later. First, we must dine.” She nodded to another liveried melusine, who hastened to pull back her chair. Her gown—crafted entirely from long, gleaming strands of pearls—clinked softly as she sat. The rest of the court seated themselves with her. When she snapped her fingers, the aristocrat on Coco’s right vaulted to her feet without a word, ceding her seat to Angelica. “You have sampled the salted sea lettuce, yes?”

“Yes, my lady.” I too returned to my seat, wiping my palms on my thighs beneath the table. “It was . . .” The waters prevented me from lying. I tried again. “A special experience.”