We continued down the other side of the mountain we had just climbed. Sweat trickled down my back. Thorny, blood-red vines twisted around the trunks of a row of trees. Egg-shaped berries, pink and pleasing to the eye, hung off them. I reached my hand out to grab one, craving the taste of refreshing juices, but Rylander smacked it hard.

“I rather like your fingers just the way they are,” he said, grabbing a thin branch from the ground. “Watch.” He poked the rosy fruit. It parted in the middle, juice spilling at the opening, and tiny, needle-thin teeth bit into the wood, nibbling at an absurd pace. “It’s called a Teething Berry. And it loves fingers. It’ll take them right off.” Within seconds, the entire kindling disappeared.

I clutched my hand to my chest. “I think I’ll be keeping my hands to myself.”

“Or you can touch me again, if you’re so inclined to grab something.” Rylander waggled his brow.

I rolled my eyes. “I think I can manage.”

“Your loss.” He continued through the greenery, passing a variety I knew as weeping blue saplings tucked in the gaps of other taller trees. All seafarers grew familiar with these wide, blue leaves with their silvery undersides. They grew near water, reaching over the sea with their short, graceful branches that would “weep” into arches, creating a blue canopy that looked like a giant blueberry from a distance. I brushed my fingertips to the waxy petal. Grateful for anything familiar, I snapped a bud off and rolled it between my fingers, releasing its sweet honey scent.

We traveled for what felt like hours, yet the sun had barely moved. “I thought we were close to the ivory castle when we came ashore?” I gasped, winded. I wasn’t used to trekking through the wilderness.

Rylander’s mouth set in a straight line. “The entrance from the water is filled with swimming sirens. Our best chance of invasion is through the back, facing the woods. Sirens on foot are easier to fight.”

“What?” I snorted, but when he kept a straight face, I shook my head. “Wait. You’re telling me some sirens have legs?”

“All sirens have legs on Anthemusa,” Rylander said, pushing palm leaves out of the way for me. I stopped, and he slammed into my back. “What are you doing?”

I swung around to face him, our bodies tangling in green stalks. His breath grazed my nose. My eyes lingered at his lips before remembering I was annoyed. “And you, what, didn’t think that was important?” My hands clutched my hips, elbows smacking into the surrounding foliage.

He shrugged. “What difference does it make? They can only use legs on this island. The second they leave, they grow back their tails.”

“But they have legs. We will be battling humans.” I raised my voice.