A cool breeze brushed Sara’s body like a caress. The bed surrounded her in a warm embrace. The glow of daylight seeped through her eyelids. They were especially hard to open this morning. There were no pressing deadlines ahead—they could stay closed for a while.
Wait a minute. Her bed was never this soft.
Sara’s eyes flew open.
She lay in the middle of a king-sized bed, centered inside a room with wooden-planked walls and two portal windows. A plush, maroon blanket twisted around the end of her fin and draped off the side of the bed. The robe she wore gapped open. Underneath the robe, her clothes were a wrinkled mess. Sara flicked her tail and the blanket slipped off and fell to the floor.
Sara looked around. Memories from the previous night flooded back into her mind and the surrealism of the situation overwhelmed her. She was in Xanthus’s houseboat. He was a Dagonian and she was half-Dagonian. And fairy tales were true—well, at least mythological ones were.
Sara spotted her wheelchair sitting beside the bed. Her pink sundress and her spandex wrap lay neatly folded on the bedside table. Xanthus must have retrieved them last night. They reminded her of how much her life had changed in one night.
Where should she go from here? Should she go about her life as if nothing had changed? Where would Xanthus go? How long was he going to stay on dry land? He mentioned something about returning in a year.
Sara remembered the thoughts she had had of a white picket fence. In the daylight, they seemed silly. This wasn’t a fairy tale story. Xanthus wasn’t going to carry her off into the crashing waves where they would swim home to his oceanic castle and live happily ever after.
If she did go home with him, she’d probably get herself executed just for existing. And if any human saw her for what she was, they would be in danger too. Her mom could be in danger, maybe even Gretchen. So here she was, knowing she didn’t belong with Xanthus and knowing she didn’t belong with humans. Where did she belong?
One thing was certain. She didn’t belong in his bed (at least not until they were married). Okay, that was a slip. Sara couldn’t possibly marry Xanthus. She didn’t belong in his world and she was sure the only reason he’d been paying her so much attention was because she was the only female Dagonian (or half-Dagonian) he’d seen in she didn’t know how long. And she was apparently fertile right now, which she guessed caused her to be somewhat appealing to him. She was sure he wouldn’t find her attractive any other way.
Now that her head was screwed on straight, maybe she could pull herself out of bed. Reaching over to her wheelchair and using her tail as leverage, she raised herself off the bed and sat down into the seat. She grabbed her clothes, placed them on her lap, and wheeled into the bathroom.
An old-fashioned, claw-foot tub greeted her as she rolled in. A massive spout hung over the tub like a giant, sleepy sunflower. Showering here would be like lying in a downpour. Xanthus must not recognize the advantages of using a sprayer hose to wash. Well, it was an advantage to her. She didn’t remember the last time she’d had a bath, but it couldn’t be too complicated.
She filled the tub with cool water. Looking down at the rippling water, she smiled when she felt no anxiety. She stripped out of her clothes and locked the brakes on her chair. Putting her weight down on her fin, she lifted herself over to the side of the tub. After lowering her hips into the water, her fin slipped under the surface. When the tub was full, she turned off the spout.
As she laid there with cool water lapping up the side of her neck, she realized the enormity of the situation. She was sitting here, submerged in water, and she wasn’t freaking out. Would miracles never cease?
