38. Caelus
Caelus
I was going to murder him.
Poseidon’s days were numbered. I’d make sure of it. Ares’ too.
I swallowed roughly, my breath hitching as my mind replayed the last few hours. Nyssa had saved me from the siren’s lure. Not that I’d ever admit it aloud, but the voice had sounded exactly like hers — as if she was calling out to me, crying out for help.
I succumbed to the panic without thinking; consumed by the desperation to save her, completely obliterating my knowledge of the fact that she had been within arm’s reach the whole time.
Also, the Nyssa I knew would never ask for help.
She faced everything head-on, completely on her own. I both admired and hated it.
She was fearsome and powerful, and dangerously skilled with a blade.
She could definitely hold her own. She’d make a fine Queen.
But that did nothing to temper the desire — the relentless need — to be the one who holds her, helps her .
And I so desperately longed to be the arms she allowed herself to fall apart in.
When I lost sight of her in the wreckage of the ship? When I realised she’d been stuck in the rotten decking? I lost it. I’d screamed at the others to help me find her, not that they needed the motivation. We were all on the same side, after all.
On the third dive, Aros found her. He grabbed my arm and pulled me down with him. We descended just in time to see her giving up. She’d stopped fighting the tide and the timber, drifting calmly into the ocean’s darkness.
Panic once again held my heart hostage — because the woman I had fallen for was resigning herself to being claimed by either the waves or the beasts.
And then she had looked up.
Those perfectly fractured emerald eyes met mine, piercing what soul I still possessed. Surprise crossed her face — like she didn’t know I’d kill myself to save her.
But I guess she didn’t.
She had no idea our destinies were entwined, that our souls had been woven together in the tapestry of fate — wound together by my own hand.
Which meant she also had no idea that because of that linked thread, I could feel everything she did, the moment she felt it.
So, when Poseidon had taken advantage of her uncontested win, when that bastard had broken his own knuckles beating her, I felt every blow.
Every ounce of pain. Every flicker of fear.
But I also felt her tenacity to survive.
I ploughed through the water harder and faster than I’d ever been able to swim before. Didn’t even pause for breath. I raced up that dune like a man possessed, with Aros hot on my heels — he had an uncanny knack of knowing when violence was brewing.
My heart twisted painfully when I saw Nyssa, battered and bleeding. My primal side instantly took over. All I could see was Poseidon’s smug face as my lightning and fists lashed out, electrocuting his body with every blow.
And now?
Now I was forced to sit here in this derelict Aetherion tavern, watching every patron gape at the goddess who sat among them.
Watching Nyssa’s face darken, her eyes swell shut, her face turn a horrifying shade of plum.
Her godly healing was taking far too long to kick in — stretching her pain into something sharp and raw.
She numbed it with spirits. Aros kept the drinks flowing and, loath as I was to admit it, he kept her from sinking into the despair I knew hovered perilously close in the background.
“I know this one,” she mumbled around a split lip, humming along to the tune of the fiddle and tapping her fingers on the table.
“Do you know the words, though?” Arch asked, grinning with a raised brow as the performer began to sing about a mortal couple in the woods.
Nyssa smirked and hummed a yes, before downing the shot in front of her. She then shocked us all by climbing onto the table, snatching Aros’ full glass on her way up, and chimed in for the chorus.
“And my, oh, my,
what a tale this would be,
when the hunter’s daughter
fell to her knees for me.
And my, oh, my,
what a mighty change of luck,
when the hunter’s daughter
puckered right up.
The lassie took me in
and started to suck,
She blew my mind
when she blew my cock.
Stole my coins,
right out my sock,
grabbed the skirts
of her blue frock,
and ran away from me.”
The crowd cheered as the goddess of death raised her glass in the air from her table-turned-stage and downed it in one smooth gulp. She bowed low, basking in their attention.
I was pretty sure the three other gods seated at our table fell in love with her just then, too, based on the awed looks on their faces. Too bad she would never be theirs.
She was mine.
And I intended to make sure she knew that we were inevitable.
A new figure sashayed up to the table, slow-clapping the goddess’ lewd performance, a knowing smile curving her lips.
“I thought you saved those sorts of performances for our wine nights, Nyss,” Aphrodite purred.
Nyssa grinned, as wide as her swollen face would allow. Aphrodite had the decency to cringe in response.
“Sorry, Aph. The music called, and the liquor answered,” she said with a laugh, eliciting a smirk from the sun god. She was one of few who never forgot to sign as she spoke — even, apparently, when she was heavily intoxicated.
Aphrodite slid into the booth and leaned over the sticky table to hold Nyssa’s pale hand.
“What happened?”
“Poseidon happened,” I spat.
Aphrodite’s eyes shot to mine, her perfect features twisting in surprise. “What?”
She looked to her friend for confirmation. Nyssa nodded once.
“Motherfucker!” Aphrodite yelled, alarming a number of nearby patrons.
“Yes, well. That motherfucker dragged me by my hair over a sand dune and beat the shit out of me while I was alone.” Nyssa scowled, then took a big gulp of a freshly procured drink.
“Not by the hair?!” Aphrodite’s face twisted in horror.
She’s going to have an outrageously sore head tomorrow.
In a subtle attempt at dissuading her from drinking more, I stole the glass from her fingers and downed it myself.
Ugh. Honey mead. Disgusting.
I must have pulled a face, because Nyssa burst out laughing.
She laughed a lot more these days — and I lived for the sound.
Aphrodite leaned in conspiratorially. “I have news,” she began.
“The Primal Council — the ones already eliminated,” she clarified in response to Apollo’s raised brows, “convened an hour ago. They’re moving up the last two trials.
Apparently, Olympus has gone too long without a ruler.
My trial will be held tomorrow. Hera’s, the day after. ”
I sat back, floored. The same shock rippled across the other champions’ faces — barring, of course, Nyssa’s. She had disregarded the glasses entirely and was now chugging directly from the mead bottle.
“Great,” she slurred drily.
“I can’t tell you specifics,” Aphrodite continued, “but know that none of you will be eliminated tomorrow. You just have to endure. And wear something comfortable.”
With Aphrodite’s warning at the forefront of my mind, I extricated the bottle from Nyssa’s surprisingly determined grip and sent her home — to where Velira and Charon waited.
Before she left, I tucked a piece of parchment into her empty sword sheath, knowing Charon would find it long before she’d sobered up enough to look.
Just a simple, four-line message.
From protector to protector.