Maya Marlowe had always thought Soteria Hall smelled like summer. Not summer in the mortal sense. Not sunscreen and hot pavement and somebody's father setting hamburger meat on fire because apparently owning a grill made men forget basic food safety.

Soteria smelled like old stone warmed by sunlight. Laurel. Pine. Books. Metal from the training fields. Flowers that grew nowhere else. And, depending on which direction the wind blew, whatever the kitchens were making for breakfast.

When Maya was eight, she had thought it was the best smell in the world. At twelve, she had started finding it suffocating. At fourteen, she decided she wanted something else. Normal. A normal school. Normal friends. Normal homework. Normal teenage problems.

She wanted to complain about algebra instead of monster classifications. She wanted school dances where nobody carried a sword underneath their dress. She wanted sleepovers. Bookstores. Overpriced coffee. Stupid gossip. Romance novels with shirtless men on the covers and communication problems that could have been solved in approximately six pages.

She wanted to be Maya. Not Maya the satyr. Not the daughter of a Soteria employee. Not the girl who grew up knowing which creatures could smell divine blood from half a mile away. Just— Maya.

She had gotten exactly what she wanted. For almost four years. Now she sat on the floor beside Raine's bed at six-thirteen in the morning and wondered whether normal had ever actually existed. Raine was asleep. Finally. Maya knew because she had been watching him for the better part of three hours. Not in a creepy way.

His breathing had evened out sometime around three. Before that, he had spent almost two hours pretending he was asleep. Maya had let him. Sometimes friendship meant knowing exactly when someone was lying and choosing not to embarrass them about it.

Raine lay curled beneath the blanket with his back toward her. Black hair spread across the pillow. The white pieces near the front had fallen across his face. His hands were tucked beneath his chin. Clean now. Mostly.

Maya looked away. Too late. Her brain supplied the memory anyway. Red water. Raine scrubbing. Again. Again. Again. I can't get it off, he said. Maya closed her eyes. No. She wasn't doing that. Not right now.

There were approximately seventeen things she could think about that did not involve the bedroom at Raine's house. Like the fact that her left hoof had gone numb. Maya shifted. Pins and needles immediately shot up her leg.

"Motherfucker." 

Raine moved. Maya froze. Nothing. Still asleep. She glared at the floor. Soteria's dormitories were beautiful. Old stone. Hand-carved molding. Enormous windows. Historic architecture. Absolutely terrible flooring for sleeping. Maya had originally intended to sit beside Raine until he fell asleep. Then she had intended to move to the chair. Then the chair had seemed too far away. Then at some point she had apparently fallen asleep sitting against the side of his bed like a medieval peasant awaiting execution. 

A blanket covered her legs. Maya frowned. She hadn't put that there. Her eyes moved toward Raine. Still asleep. Probably. Maybe. Maya narrowed her eyes.

"You sneaky little bitch." 

Nothing. She smiled. There he was. Even unconscious, annoying. Her phone buzzed silently beside her. Maya reached for it. Fourteen notifications. Excellent. Six from her father.Three from her mother. Two from Noah. One from an unknown Soteria number. One from Raine. Maya frowned. Raine?

She opened it. Sent at 2:11 A.M.

'stop staring at me'

Maya slowly looked toward the bed. 

"You were awake." 

Nothing. She typed:

'you are literally asleep rn and still annoying me'

No response. Obviously. She opened her father's messages.

Dad: Your mother says you're still in East Dorm. 

Dad: Maya. 

Dad: Answer your phone. 

Dad: I know you can see these. 

Dad: Your read receipts are on. 

Dad: This is why I told you to turn those off if you planned on ignoring people. 

Maya snorted. Her mother's were considerably more efficient.

Mom: Are you staying with Raine tonight? 

Mom: If yes, I'll tell your father to stop bothering you. 

Mom: He has started pacing. 

Maya typed: 

'yes. he finally fell asleep.'

Three dots appeared immediately. Her mother was awake. Of course she was.

Mom: How is he? 

Maya stared at the question. Her fingers hovered above the screen. How was Raine? His mother had been murdered. He thought his father had done it. He had discovered Greek mythology was real approximately twelve hours ago. He had discovered Maya was a satyr approximately eleven hours and fifty-eight minutes ago. He was sleeping in a room he had never seen before, inside a school he hadn't known existed yesterday. So— Maya typed:

'alive'

She hated the word the second she sent it. Her mother answered:

'That counts for something.'

Maya swallowed. Yeah. It did. Her phone buzzed again.

Mom: Come downstairs when he wakes. Your father is here. 

Maya frowned. Dad was here? She typed:

'why'

Her mother replied: 

'Because he is your father.'

Fair. Then:

Mom: And because Soteria needs to know whether you intend to remain enrolled at your mortal school. 

Maya stared. Oh. Right. That. She hadn't thought about school. Calculus. History. Graduation. College applications. Her locker. Her books. The romance novel still hidden inside her American Government textbook because Raine had once informed her the cover was "an affront to human dignity." Normal. Her normal.

Maya looked at Raine. Something twisted inside her chest. Her phone buzzed.

Mom: You do not have to decide this morning. 

Maya looked back at the message. Yes, she did. She just hadn't admitted it yet.

⸻ 

Raine woke at six-forty-seven. Violently. One second he was asleep. The next he sat upright with a gasp. The shadows beneath the bed shot across the floor. Maya barely had time to move. Blackness climbed the walls. The lamp flickered. Raine stared around the room. Wild. Confused. Terrified.

"Raine." 

His head snapped toward her. Maya stayed still.

"It's me."

His breathing came fast.

"Maya?" 

"Yeah." 

He looked around. The room. The window. The unfamiliar dresser. The guitar. Then— everything returned. Maya saw it happen. His face changed. Not gradually. One second confusion. The next— memory. His mother. The house. The note. Hades. Soteria. Raine looked down. The shadows collapsed instantly. Maya hated that almost more.

"Hey." 

He rubbed both hands over his face. 

"Good Morning." 

His voice sounded awful.

"Debatable." 

"Fair." 

Silence. Maya waited. Raine looked at her. Then the floor. Then the blanket. His eyebrows drew together.

"You slept down there?" 

"No." 

Raine stared. Maya stared back.

"You're on the floor." 

"Observant." 

"You have a blanket." 

"Decorative." 

"Maya." 

She sighed. 

"Yes." 

"Why?" 

Maya looked at him like he was stupid. Because he was.

"You asked me to stay." 

"That doesn't mean sleep on the floor." 

"You were in the bed." 

"There's like six feet of bed." 

"You kick." 

"I do not." 

"You absolutely do." 

"When have I kicked you?" 

"Junior year. Sleepover. 3:12 in the morning." 

"That is suspiciously specific." 

"You kicked me in the kidney." 

"You stole my blanket." 

"You were wrapped in it like a burrito." 

"It was cold." 

"It was July." 

"Air-conditioning." 

Maya smiled. Raine's mouth twitched. For approximately two seconds, the room became normal. Then his gaze drifted toward the guitar. The smile disappeared. Maya hated normal for leaving so quickly. Raine swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there. Still. Maya stood. Her knees cracked. Raine looked up.

"Jesus." 

"Floor." 

"You're eighteen." 

"Technically." 

Raine froze. Maya froze. Ah. There it was. She had never explained that. Raine slowly narrowed his eyes.

"Technically?" 

Maya considered lying. No. Not anymore. She sighed.

"I'm technically nineteen." 

Raine stared. 

"What?" 

"Biologically." 

"What the fuck does that mean?" 

Maya sat beside him. 

"Satyrs have a Still Year." 

Raine looked immediately suspicious. 

"A what?" 

"The first year after birth, development is basically paused." 

"Paused." 

"Pretty much." 

"Like fucking buffering?" 

Maya laughed. 

"Kind of." 

Raine stared. 

"So you're nineteen." 

"I've existed nineteen years." 

"But." 

"Physically and mentally, eighteen." 

Raine processed. Maya watched. His eyebrows slowly climbed.

"So you lied about your age too." 

"I translated." 

"You lied." 

"Culturally adapted." 

"Lied." 

"Protected you from unnecessary mythological bureaucracy." 

Raine stared. Maya sighed.

"Fine. Lied." 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." 

He looked her over. 

"So you're my ancient elder now." 

"I'm going to kick you." 

"Your nineteen-year-old joints can handle that?" 

Maya shoved him. Raine laughed. Actually laughed. Not much. One sharp little sound. But real. Maya's chest tightened. There. She wanted to bottle it. Hide it somewhere safe. Protect it until he could make that sound without it immediately disappearing. Raine looked away.

"You're staring." 

"Am not." 

"You are." 

"I'm admiring my elderly wisdom." 

"Fuck off." 

Much better. Maya stood.

"You hungry?" 

"No." 

"Wrong answer." 

"I'm not." 

"You haven't eaten." 

"I'm aware." 

"When?" 

Raine thought. Maya waited. His expression changed slightly. She knew. Yesterday lunch. Maybe. Before his mother. Before everything.

"Exactly." 

"I'm not hungry." 

"Okay." 

Raine looked suspicious. 

"That easy?" 

"Yep." 

He narrowed his eyes. Maya picked up her phone.

"You're still coming to breakfast." 

"There it is." 

"You don't have to eat." 

"Manipulative." 

"I learned from romance novels." 

"Those books have taught you nothing useful." 

"They taught me rich men are generally traumatized." 

"Groundbreaking." 

"And communication solves ninety percent of relationship problems." 

Raine looked toward the door. 

"Then why does nobody in your books communicate?" 

"Because then they'd be thirty pages." 

He snorted. Maya grabbed his hoodie from the chair and threw it at him. It hit his face.

"Get dressed." 

"I'm already dressed." 

"Different shirt." 

"Why?" 

Maya hesitated. The red jacket had been taken for evidence. His band shirt from yesterday was somewhere in the infirmary laundry. Raine noticed. Of course. His expression flattened.

"Oh." 

Maya hated herself. 

"I packed you clothes." 

"I know." 

He stood. Maya turned toward the bathroom.

"I'll wait outside." 

"Maya." 

She stopped. Raine held the hoodie. His eyes stayed on it.

"Do I have to see people?" 

"No." 

He looked up. Maya corrected:

"Eventually." 

"Helpful." 

"But we can avoid most of them." 

"How?" 

"I know every back hallway in this building." 

Raine raised an eyebrow. 

"Crime?" 

Maya smiled. 

"Crime." 

His mouth twitched. 

"Okay."