Chapter 189

Two months.

I sat on the beach, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of amber and rose, and I could not believe how quickly the time had passed. It felt like yesterday that I had woken in our home, confused and aching, desperate to see my daughters. Now the Pearlings were two months old, their swimming transformed from desperate flailing to graceful gliding, their faces round and smiling, their azure eyes bright with awareness and mischief.

Seraphyna could dart through the water now, fast as a fish, her tail flicking with precision. Kalisseyani had discovered she could spin in circles, creating tiny whirlpools that delighted her endlessly. And Irysindra, my patient one, had become the most graceful of all, moving through the water with a serenity that seemed impossible for one so young.

They were happy. They were healthy. They were, as Levy declared every single morning, "the most adorable babies in the entire history of babies."

And today, we celebrated another milestone.

First birthdays were not commonly celebrated among the beast folk. Children were precious, yes, but survival was uncertain, and traditions of celebration were reserved for rites of passage, for proven strength, for the moment when a child reached adulthood at three years and could finally shift and protect themselves. A child who reached their first year was fortunate, but it was not marked with fanfare or festivity. Only the third year mattered.

But I was not from this world, and I could not let the day pass without acknowledgment. I wanted my children to know they were cherished, that their lives were worth celebrating, that every year, every month, every day was a gift. So I had insisted. I had decorated the beach with flowers, I had gathered the family, I had made this a day of joy.

"Happy birthday!"

The shout went up from the entire family, our voices carrying across the beach, scattering the seagulls that had been pecking at the sand. Levy stood before us, her hands on her hips, her black hair caught up in a crown of woven flowers, her face a mixture of delight and embarrassment.

She was one year old today, but in her human form she appeared twelve, her body stretching into the lanky, coltish grace of early adolescence. She had shot up in the past two months, growing two inches seemingly overnight, her face sharpening into the kind of beauty that made my heart ache. She looked like Leon, fierce and proud, her black hair gleaming like obsidian in the sunlight, her dark eyes fringed with thick lashes that would make poets weep. She was beautiful, impossibly so, a young lioness in the making.

Behind her, Niku and Sikai shifted uncomfortably, also transformed. They too appeared twelve or thirteen in their human forms, their shoulders broadening, their faces losing the softness of childhood, though they were only a year old as well. They were handsome, impossibly so, their dark hair and dark eyes making them look like young princes from some ancient story, mirror images of their father and their sister.

And Leon, my fierce, but soft hearted Leon, was weeping.

He stood slightly apart from the celebration, his arms crossed, his jaw tight, but the tears streamed down his face unabated. Happy tears, I hoped, though there was something bittersweet in them too.

"My baby," he whispered when I approached him. "My little girl. She was just born. She was just in my arms. And now..." He gestured helplessly at Levy, who was currently ordering her brothers around with the confidence of a general. "Now she looks like a woman."

"She’s still your baby," I said, slipping my hand into his.

"She has boys looking at her," he said, his voice dropping to a growl. "I have seen them. sea lion beast. Boys with no sense, no honor, no idea that I will break their necks if they come near her."

I followed his gaze and saw that he was right. Three sea lion male beast, perhaps fourteen or fifteen in appearance, stood near the edge of the celebration, trying to look casual while stealing glances at Levy. One of them, a tall boy with sun-bronzed skin and a shock of black hair, was gathering his courage, his feet inching closer to where Levy stood.

"Oh no," I murmured, amusement and dread warring in my chest.

The boy approached, his hands trembling slightly, and cleared his throat. "Levy?" he said, his voice cracking.

Levy turned, her eyebrow arching in that way that was pure Leon. "Yes?"

"I... I made this for you," the boy said, thrusting forward a crude but clearly heartfelt carving of a lion. "For your birthday. I know you like lions. And I... I think you’re pretty. Very pretty. Like the sunrise. Prettier than the sunrise, actually. I mean..." He trailed off, his face crimson.

Levy took the carving, her expression unreadable. She turned it over in her hands, examining it, while the boy shifted from foot to foot, clearly dying inside.

"Thank you," Levy said, her face lighting up with genuine delight. She turned the carving over in her hands, examining it with wide eyes. "It’s beautiful. Did you really make it yourself?"

The boy nodded, his face crimson. "I did. For you. Because... because you’re pretty. And I wanted you to have it."

"That’s so kind," Levy said, beaming at him. She clutched the lion carving to her chest, clearly thrilled with her gift. "I love lions. They’re my favorite. I’m going to put it in my room where I can see it every day."

The boy stared at her, his mouth slightly open, clearly not expecting such enthusiastic acceptance. "You... you like it?"

"I love it," Levy confirmed, already turning to show me. "Mama, look what he made for me. Isn’t it wonderful?"

I looked at the boy, at my daughter’s innocent delight, and at Leon, who had stopped weeping and was now staring at the scene with an expression of dawning horror.

"Levy," I said carefully, "do you know why he gave you this gift?"

"Because he’s nice," Levy said simply. "And he likes lions too. Right?" She turned back to the boy, her expression open and friendly. "We can be friends. Do you want to play with us? We’re going to have races on the beach later."

The boy nodded, dazed, and Levy skipped away, her new treasure clutched in her hand, completely unaware that she had just accepted what amounted to a courtship gift from a boy who was clearly smitten with her.

Leon made a sound like a wounded animal. "She accepted it," he choked out. "She accepted his gift. She doesn’t understand. She thinks he’s just being nice."

"He is being nice," I said, trying to soothe him.

"He wants to claim her," Leon hissed, his black eyes narrowing at the poor boy, who was now being invited to join the cheetah cubs in their race. "He’s looking at her like... like..."

"Like you looked at me?" I suggested.

Leon groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is worse than her rejecting him. She accepted it innocently. She has no idea. She’s going to break hearts without even trying. She’s going to attract them all, and she won’t even know why they’re coming."

"She’s still your baby," I reminded him, patting his arm.

"She’s a heartbreaker," Leon corrected, his voice muffled. "A beautiful, innocent, terrifying heartbreaker."

I laughed, watching Levy organize the race, the boy following her like a lovesick puppy, and I knew Leon was right. She had no idea. None at all. And that made her even more dangerous to the hearts of these sea lion boys.

"Welcome to fatherhood," I told him. "It only gets worse from here."

He wept harder.

The celebration continued, the cheetah cubs; now ten months old and appearing perhaps eight or nine in human form; tumbling through the sand, their energy boundless, their laughter infectious. Tavren, Kaizen, and Zarek chased each other in circles, shifting between human and cheetah forms with abandon, their speed making them blurs of motion.

And then I saw it.

A group of boys had gathered near the water’s edge. They were not looking at Levy. They were looking at the serpent girls.

Seraya, Nyssara, and Elira sat together on a driftwood log, their green hair gleaming in the sunlight, their emerald eyes luminous, their faces ethereal and perfect. In their human forms, they appeared about six or seven years old, still children but with the kind of delicate beauty that made people stop and stare. They were talking quietly among themselves, unaware that they had become the center of attention.

But the boys were aware. Oh, they were aware.

There were five of them, all around the same age, perhaps appearing eight or nine, all trying to look casual while stealing glances at my daughters. One of them, a boy with freckles across his nose and a shock of red hair, actually walked into a tree because he was too busy watching Seraya to watch where he was going. He stumbled back, his face crimson, while his friends laughed and shoved him good-naturedly.

"Gods above," Ravin muttered, coming to stand beside me. "Not already."

"Already," I confirmed, watching as another boy, this one with dark curly hair and a gap-toothed smile, attempted to approach the serpent girls, only to be intercepted by Syren, Vaelis, Rhyzar, and Kaelor. My serpent sons had positioned themselves like guards, their green eyes narrowed, their small bodies rigid with protective fury.

"Go away," Syren said, his voice carrying the musical lilt of the serpent folk even in his young age. "Our sisters are not for looking at."

"We just wanted to say hello," the boy protested, his voice high and innocent. "My name is Finn. I live on the eastern shore. I have shells. Lots of shells. I thought they might like to see them."

"Say hello from farther away," Kaelor suggested, his tone deceptively sweet. "Much farther. Like the eastern shore farther."

The boys retreated, but they did not stop looking. They sat on a distant rock, their chins in their hands, their expressions dreamy and dazed, passing a collection of polished shells back and forth as if practicing which ones they might offer as gifts.

"They are too pretty," Atlas said, appearing at my elbow, his own expression grim. "Even the little boys notice. This is what I was talking about, Mom. This is exactly what I was talking about."

"At least Levy is too young to understand," Jasper pointed out, joining us. "The serpent girls are too. But the boys... they know. Even at eight, they know."

"We’ll protect them," Chase said, his voice quiet but firm. "All of us. Together."

"Seven of them now," Ryder reminded us. "Seven beautiful sisters. Even the little boys want to give them shells." I laughed, the sound carrying across the beach. The sun was setting, painting the water in gold and crimson, and my family surrounded me, growing, changing, becoming more magnificent with every passing day. Two months had gone by in a blink, and in another blink, they would be grown. But for now, in this moment, they were mine. And I would treasure every second.