After a shorter walk than I remembered on the way in, we reached the large antechamber, and I got my first good look at it. The entrance was as elegant as the rest of the place and its decorations as peculiar due to their scavenged nature. The sconces I’d noticed earlier were discarded citronella torches. The glimmering path leading into the first room, the main living space, was paved with bottle caps. From here, the exit resembled a giant pool. And on a rock sat a familiar tin I hadn’t noticed in my haste to get inside the caves.

Harlow’s unfocused eyes brightened at the sight of it, as though the power of the memories connected to the item had peeled aside the veil Charybdis had lowered over her mind.

“The gills don’t stick.” Graeson had noticed Harlow’s fixation too. “Is it just me or are they supposed to do that?”

“That’s how they work,” she whispered on an indrawn breath. “They’re meant to dissolve…” her focus wavered, “…once you don’t need them.”

Just as before, the flicker of awareness waned all too quickly, and she zoned out as her expression slipped back into blankness.

“I wish I could make this work for you too, Ellis.” Graeson scooped up the tin and twisted it in his hand, but Harlow had checked out, and not even the lure of her gear roused her again. “I don’t know the first thing about jury-rigging magic.”

“Don’t worry about me.” I plastered on a brave smile, trembling inside at the idea of hitting the water a second time. “I’ll manage.”

“Getting out won’t be too bad. It’s not as far up as you think.” His focus shifted toward the ceiling. “It’s when we breach the surface that things will get sticky. Bessemer saw me go in. You too. He doesn’t know about the caves, as far as I’m aware, but he’ll figure it out or someone else will tell him. He’ll be waiting.” His gaze touched on Harlow. “They’ll know it’s her. They’ll see we went in and came out with another fae—one with pink hair.”

“We have to be ready for anything,” I agreed.

“You and I are a match for any of them.” Heat sparked in his gaze. “Your she-wolf is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

My gut pitched. “I don’t have a she-wolf.” There was no spirit animal inside me. “I don’t have a wolf period. I just get hairier now than I used to.”

“You haven’t seen her, have you?”

“No.” I didn’t trust that knowing glint. “I haven’t exactly had time to sit around admiring myself lately.”

He raised his hands, an easy surrender, but I knew I hadn’t heard the last on the topic.