Page 95 of Fairies Never Fall

Before I can decide what to do, we’re swinging around from the loss of momentum, and the long prow of another boat snags one of our floats, entangling us. We’ve drifted so far to the side we’re suddenly face to face with another competitor, averylarge faun and his small harpy companion.

“Watch it!” he growls.

“Shit.” I grab Lysander’s oar from his lax hand and steer us away, biceps burning as I maneuver us apart. Our boat shoots free, leaving behind a string of floats. The momentum sends us skating up to the dock. Lysander shakes himself out of his stupor abruptly.

“The flag!” he cries, standing up before I can stop him.

The boat wobbles wildly. He grabs at the flag as we sail past the end of the dock. The oar hits a post and wrenches out of my hand. I drop it to grab onto Lysander and hold him steady, but I’m too slow — with a yelp, he tips off the end of the boat and into the lake.

“Lys!”

I don’t even think before I jump over the side.

Shit!The water is icy. I gulp a breath quickly and reach for him. He splashes and flails, evading my grip in his panic.

A whistle blows across the lake behind us. “Hang tight!” Plato bellows, and there’s a splash.

“It’s fine,” I yell through a mouthful of lake, but Lysander is still struggling. I grab onto his waist. “I’ve got you. Just stay calm.”

His mouth opens in a frightened gasp. “Ez! I can’t swim.”

I pump my legs, lifting him higher in the water. “Breathe, baby. You have a lifejacket on, you don’t need to swim. Move your arm in a circle and kick your legs slowly.”

He clings to my arm painfully, but I feel his weight slowly transfer off me.

“That’s it,” I tell him encouragingly, and before he can freak out again, I steer him gently toward the dock. “Keep kicking. We’re heading toward the ladder.”

“It’s too deep,” he whimpers. “I’ll drown!”

“You’re gonna be okay,” I repeat, half for him and half for myself.

I can’t see his wings, but I feel them beating frantically through the water in time with my heart.

Plato lets out a loud curse, stopping a few feet from us to tread water with perfect ease. “I can’t help.”

Right.

I’m gonna have words with Syril later. And myself. Because I completely forgot that if something happened to Lysander on the water, no one but me would be able to help him without getting hurt.

What in fuck were either of us thinking?

“I can do it,” Lysander gasps, paddling toward the ladder.

My stomach clenches in relief when he finally grabs on. I urge him up the ladder, following closely behind, and Plato swings onto the dock a moment later.

“Are you okay?” he asks Lysander, crouching.

“Don’t touch me!” Lysander scrambles backward. He falls to his ass, coughing and spitting out water.

“Tell me what to check,” I demand, intercepting Plato.

“Just make sure he hasn’t inhaled any water.” Plato sits back on his heels. “Fuck. Let’s not do that ever again.”

“I haven’t. I’m fine.” Lysander shoves something at my chest — the wet, crumpled flag. “Take this, Ezra. We won!”

“Jesus.” I ignore the flag and haul him into my arms. My pulse is going ninety miles a minute. “Damn right, we did.Youwon.”

He lets out a wet, choked laugh. “It’s for you.”

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