Ink of Copper

37. In Which Our Heroine Takes One Small Step

Chapter 37

In Which Our Heroine Takes One Small Step

The Hills of Asteria in the Celestial Region on Mount Olympus

T he smell of coffee tugged at Ellie’s nose. She sniffed, pulling the aroma in, letting it linger. It was heavenly, like somewhere on the fringes of a dream. Wanting to savor the rich aroma, she turned her head towards the smell. A touch crossed her forehead, smoothing her hair away, gentle, kind. She jerked awake.

“Hey, easy. Easy, little lamb.”

Her head spun as she jolted upright, turning her stomach. Placing a hand on her head, she fell back against a mountain of pillows, squeezing her eyes shut against a tilting world.

“Shhh, lamb.”

“Syren?”

“You finally joined us,” she said from somewhere beside her.

Ellie opened one eye. “You’re in my cabin?”

“Hush now, that isn’t important. I made some coffee. I didn’t know how you took it, so I put a shit ton of cream and sugar in it. I figured you like ‘em tall and blond, so . . .” She was talking so fast that Ellie struggled to keep up.

A coffee cup and saucer were shoved in her half-opened hands, the china clinking as she righted the cup to keep it from spilling all over her bedsheets. Looking down at the light-colored liquid, she frowned.

“I like mine darker,” she said absentmindedly.

“So do I.”

Her soft laugh floated around the room. The woman had a witty sense of humor.

“Syren, what are you doing in my cabin?” But she ignored the question and kept chattering as she flitted to a tray set with coffee and pastries piled high, pouring as she talked.

“I hope the gown is okay. I found it in the room, several in fact.” She snorted a laugh. “The men had a fit trying to decide the right way of it. I expected a rock, paper, scissors war to break out over what was considered proper.” Her sultry laugh sounded again, and she winked over her shoulder. “Are you hungry?”

“A little. I think.” Her voice sounded small. “You changed me?”

She nodded. “I was given strict instructions. Evander insisted you be taken care of, and a tray brought in. I kept telling him you weren’t awake yet, but the man hovered like a mother hen. He wanted to ensure you would be fed when you woke up.”

Her brilliant smile lit up as she brought a smaller tray closer. Syren arranged the covers around Ellie and then set the tray down. There was coffee and fruit, two pastries, and a pile of eggs on matching delicate china. The smell of food made her stomach lurch, so she decided coffee was the better option. Taking a sip, Ellie savored its soothing warmth. Syren sat down on the edge of the oversized bed.

“That man is beside himself.” She smiled, picking a corner off a pastry and popping it in her mouth.

“Wh-what?”

“He’s been in twice a day since we came here, checking on you.”

“Where? My cabin?”

“No, little lamb. We aren’t on the ship any longer.”

Setting her cup down, she took note of the room. Heavy, dark-blue covers tucked around her expanded from her waist and fell off the end of an enormous four-poster bed. Just beyond was a fireplace with a fire dancing high and warm. Two chairs and a table sat in front of the hearth. An expanse of windows, floor to ceiling, ran along one wall. The rest of the room was dark. Wooden beams overhead, and large paintings of woodland scenes hung on the wall.

“Did we get off the ship?” She had no memory of disembarking in Athens. No memory of seeing the Parthenon, temples, or ruins. Had she drank so much she blacked out?

“Yes, we did. You’re in my room.”

“I—I don’t remember disembarking.” Ellie rubbed her temples. “Are we in Athens?” Nothing was making any sense. Why was Syren here? Why was she in a strange room? Why couldn’t she remember how she got here? “I feel like I was drugged.”

Patting her hand, Syren gave it a little squeeze as Ellie closed her eyes once again. Maybe she’d be back on the ship if she opened them? Opening one eye, she was met with disappointment. The door to her room opened, and Camulos stuck his head full of white hair between the frame and the door.

“She’s awake.”

“She’s awake,” he said to someone behind him. The door opened wider, and in traipsed Evander, Liam, and Maximus behind Camulos, all four coming to stand around the end of her bed like some bad medieval movie. Ellie gasped and shot back against the pillows, spilling the tray. All four were dressed as warriors from ancient Greece—leather breastplates on some, leather straps holding weapons on others, greaves on all four sets of shins. The most startling wasn’t the armor, it was wings. Enormous, feathered wings that expanded several feet over their heads tucked neatly behind Liam, Max, and Cam.

“You jackasses could have at least glamoured yourselves until she was comfortable. You’re just scaring her.”

“We’re sorry, love,” Liam cooed at her, and in the blink of an eye, he and Maximus had returned to the men she thought she knew. Relatively. They, along with Evander, remained in armor. Camulos stayed as he was, his mahogany wings reaching towards the high ceiling behind him.

“This has to be the world’s worst hangover,” Ellie moaned into her hands as Syren cleaned her up. She dabbed at the coffee spilt, picking bits of eggs and a whole pastry off Ellie’s nightgown.

Scooting to the edge of the bed, Ellie’s world tilted again as she tried to stand. Syren held her shoulder to steady her.

“Hangover?” Camulos asked.

“Yes, the absolute worst. Either that, or I’m hallucinating.” She nodded and made a face. “Worst hangover ever.”

“Ellie, do you know where you are?” Camulos was all business.

She sighed, both eyes closing as she rose. “No.” She shook her head once, bile rising as she did.

“Do you know how you got here?”

“Cam, can we not do twenty questions?”

With Syren’s help, she tried to take an unsteady step. A large, cool hand reached around her waist, supporting her as he guided. Glancing down, she saw soft light glinting off metal fingers. She welcomed the support.

“I know you’re trying to lead me to some kind of revelation, Cam, but can you just tell me? My head is splitting.”

Liam snorted a laugh, and Camulos shot him a look. “Do you remember your last night on the ship?”

“No. I have no idea where the hell I am. And now I’m covered in food because I imagined y’all have enormous bird wings.” She looked at Camulos and frowned. “Okay, the last part happened.”

Several steps and she reached a wooden desk next to a line of bookshelves. Pulling out her chair, Evander helped her sit. It was reassuring he was there; she reached over and wrapped her fingers around his metal ones, squeezing. He squeezed back, then busied himself helping Syren. Liam crossed the room and tugged on a satin rope near the side of the bed. In seconds, two small women dressed in a servant’s uniform, marched in and took over the task. They changed her sheets and cleaned up the mess. She watched them work.

“You don’t remember being attacked by a Chthonian?”

“A what?”

“Using your magic? Becoming out of control and turning your powers on Evander? Hitting him twice?” Lines formed on Camulos’ forehead as he studied her.

Her hand flew to her mouth, and she immediately turned to Evander. He gave her a weak smile, crossing to her and placing a hand on the back of her chair.

“Oh my god!” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Did I hurt you? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

His usual hard-lined features were gentle as he disagreed. But she searched him, and when her gaze fell on the reddened skin healing near his shoulder, she gasped, and her bottom lip trembled.

“I hurt you,” she whispered.

“I recovered quickly; there’s no need to worry.”

“Oh my god!” she said again. “I hurt you. How bad? I’m so sorry. I never . . .” Ellie trailed off, turning her palms over, looking at them incredulously.

“I know,” he whispered so only she could hear. “I know you wouldn’t.” His gentle hand landed on her shoulder, and he squeezed reassuringly.

“We need to have a discussion, Ellie. What your future looks like now,” Camulos said.

Ellie swung her head up. “What do you mean, what my future looks like?”

His lips pulled into a thin line, a decision made in his mind. “You are on Olympus. When you lost control, Max moved all of us here for our safety as well as yours. You’ve been unconscious for days, but now that you’re awake—”

“Is it essential to do this now?” Evander asked.

Camulos nodded, but Maximus answered. “Yes. We need answers. If we are going to risk Athena’s wrath, we need to know exactly who we are dealing with.”

“Stay here?” Ellie tried to stand, and Evander grabbed her elbow to steady her.

“Yes, stay here. You’re safer here than anywhere else,” Maximus said flippantly. “Get cleaned up and dressed, and we will discuss this further.” He turned to the two servants and said something in Greek. Ellie identified a few words; the rest fell around her like glass.

“Where is here?”

“You’re on Olympus, Ellie,” Camulos repeated.

“Olympus?” she croaked. “I’m on Olympus? Like the mountain in Greece? Like a hotel?”

“No, darling,” Evander said softly beside her. “Olympus, the realm of the gods.”

Her knees buckled, and she sat down hard into the chair. Grabbing the edge, she tried to catch her breath.

“Easy,” he soothed. “Let Syren help you get dressed. This is a lot, I know.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.

“Olympus?”

A few hours later, she was no closer to understanding how she ended up in a place that was supposed to be fictional. Seated before the vanity mirror, she was desperately trying to untangle the gnarled mess that was her hair—and her mind, if she was being honest. Raking a small ivory comb through her tendrils, she grunted when it hit a knot. Dipping it in water, she rubbed a generous amount of thick conditioning oil one servant brought onto the section and began separating it with her fingers. The servants flittered around her like bees, always moving, never quite landing. She was on the last section when there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called, slathering more oil onto the ends of her hair.

“I bet you feel better now that you’re washed and dried,” Syren said as she entered.

“And not covered in food and coffee.”

“That too.”

Ellie placed the comb down on the tabletop. “How long have I been here, Syren? Nobody will tell me. The maids only speak Greek.” She twisted a curl through her fingers, and it glided like silk, shining in the candlelight.

“Two days.”

“Two?”

Syren nodded.

“But how?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is when Liam and I stepped into your cabin, it was utter chaos. Sparks of lightning and fire circled you. Camulos and Maximus appeared out of thin air, and you struck Evander. Then we were here. I’ve been trying to make sense of it for days.”

“My powers,” Ellie said, touching her forehead. “My head is pounding. Do you think this place has somewhere to get ibuprofen? Or Demerol? Or a Percocet?”

Syren snorted a laugh. “Good to see your sense of humor isn’t harmed.” Shrugging, she picked up the comb and pulled it through the last bit of Ellie’s tangled hair, the ivory getting lost among fire and copper. “I bet we could ask the maids to get you something.”

“If they suggest chewing on willow bark, I’m rioting.”

“Agreed.”

Syren dragged the comb through Ellie’s hair with such care that she barely felt the knots give way. Rubbing a dollop of oil into the strands, she smoothed hairs away from her face.

“You’re burning up?” Callassa remarked, combing out another knot.

“It happens when I lose control.” Ellie shrugged a shoulder.

Syren patted her head and dragged the comb through the silken strands.

“Thank you,” Ellie said, her voice full of emotion.

“For what?”

“I dunno. For watching over me. I have a feeling you insisted on making sure I was set right every day.”

Syren shrugged. “And Evander.” She caught Ellie’s reflection in the mirror and smiled weekly. “It’s good to have you back.”

Ellie only nodded.

The two set about braiding her hair back into two chunks on either side, pinning it at the nape of her neck. Syren secured it with a silken ribbon that she wove around Ellie’s head and through the braid. The oil tamed her wild curls and held them in place. She pushed herself up to stand, and her dress flounced around her knees, dark blue matching her mood and the room. Rolling waves stretched the hem while red piping traveled along the edges. She’d found leather sandals in the wardrobe and decided those would be best if it was true and she was on Mt. Olympus. She was still skeptical.

“Are you steady enough to walk?”

“I think so.” But Ellie took the elbow that was winged at her anyway.

The women left the room, arm in arm, and headed down a short corridor to another set of rooms. Dark-red carpet with an intricate pattern woven into it lay atop wooden floors, marking their path. At the end was a series of three rooms. A door on the left and right led to what Ellie assumed were bedchambers. Between the two doors was a relatively large sitting room. A fireplace big enough to house a family stood proudly on one side of the room. The end of the room had windows similar to the ones in the chamber. Thick, heavy-leaded windows stood floor to ceiling, letting in as much light as possible. Two oversized couches faced each other, with two dark-green, oversized chairs on either end, making a conversational square in the middle. The furniture was oddly shaped, rounded on the sides, with a strange cut into the back, which she realized was made to accommodate the men’s impressive wings. The opposite wall from the fireplace held floor-to-ceiling and wall-to-wall bookshelves filled with a treasure trove of leather-bound beauties. Ellie stopped as soon as she saw it.

“A ladder,” she breathed, her eyes lighting up. “Every girl dreams of a library with a ladder.” She might be disoriented, lost, and in a fictional place, but she appreciated a well-worn library ladder.

“Ellie?” Camulos interrupted her admiring.

Like a child scurrying to open presents on Christmas, she crossed quickly to the shelves. Gently, she pushed, and it glided to the side. A soft giggle freed itself, and she lovingly brushed her fingertips against the wood. Her eyes traveled up and down the steps in joyful excitement. Camulos cleared his throat loudly.

“I hear you, Cam,” she said to the books, holding the metal handrail that ran up for support should one want to climb. For a fleeting moment, she envisioned herself climbing the rungs, pushing off on one side, while the ladder gloriously carried her along the track to the opposite side. Determined to make it a reality, she lifted a foot, but Camulos cleared his throat louder.

“Soon,” she whispered.

Crossing to the now-boring couches, she lowered herself into one of the deep seats. Camulos stood on the side of the room, Evander sat in one of the green chairs beside her, Liam across, and Maximus stood by the fire. Maximus, Liam, and Camulos were still dressed in the warrior armor from before, all three sporting wings. Two had wings with horns that sprouted from the apex. Liam’s wings sloped gracefully, hornless. The only one who looked like the man she thought she knew was Evander. He was in trousers and a dress shirt.

“Are you getting any memories back?” Syren asked as she joined Liam on the couch, tucking herself to his side as he snaked an arm along the back of the couch.

Syren wore a Grecian dress. Her dark arms peaked out of a folded-over top, pinned at each shoulder with gold crests resembling the tattoo that graced each man’s chest, and tied with a purple cord around her waist. She looked like a regal Greek goddess; all she needed was a crown. Her black hair was tied back and bound with a purple ribbon. Ellie marveled at the transformation from cut-off shorts and bikini tops to this.

“No. I tried to remember, but that happens when I . . .” she trailed off and nervously glanced at Maximus.

“We all saw your magic, Ellie; you don’t have to hide it anymore,” Evander said.

She flinched. “I’m so sorry.” Her gaze immediately went to his shoulder and the angry red marks.

He responded with a weak smile and moved to sit beside her on the couch, stretching his arm along the back.

“Ellie,” Camulos dragged her attention away, “we need to discuss what happens next.” He was all business. “I bought us a little time, but at the cost of the goddess’ wrath when she finds out we lied.”

“Lied?” she scrunched up her forehead. “About what?”

“You,” he said simply. “Athena wants Pandora’s book. She is the one who ordered your death. I stalled as much as I could, but I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Dead? I don’t understand, Cam. I’m not important.” She reached up and guided her pendant through the chain as she tried to work out why any goddess would want her dead.

“You are very important,” Evander said beside her as she met his gaze. He touched the back of her shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “Very important.”

Camulos crossed his arms. “Tell me, do you know who your parents are?”

“My parents?” She paused, pendant in her hand; her gaze slid to Liam and then up to Camulos. “Of course, I know my parents. What an asinine question.”

“I mean your birth parents.” His tone was stern.

Breath stuck in her lungs.

“You’re adopted, no?”

Camulos was a lot of things, but someone with tact wasn’t one of them. Ellie noticed Liam’s eyes darting to Evander. He widened them slightly, raised an eyebrow, and jerked his head at Camulos. Evander nodded. An entire wordless conversation between the two with only looks and arched eyebrows.

“Yes. I’m adopted.”

“Did you know your mother?”

She shook her head. “I just told you. I didn’t know my birth parents. It was a closed adoption. My adoptive mother is my mother. My birth mother is someone who didn’t want me.”

“How were you born?”

Liam and Evander stopped pantomiming, and both swung their heads towards Camulos, giving him a unified look of confusion.

Ellie snorted. “How was I born?” she repeated. “Didn’t you learn that in school? Like anyone else, Camulos.”

“No, what I mean is, were you born in a hospital, or were you found somewhere?”

Completely confused, she slumped back against the cushions and folded her hands into her lap. “I was born in a hospital, of course.”

“Are you sure? You weren’t found?”

“Found? What do you mean, found?”

“Your adoptive parents—”

“ Parents ,” Ellie snapped, glaring at him. The fire crackled sharply in the fireplace, and two candles blazed, then settled. “No adoptive. They might not have given birth to me, but they are the only parents I’ve known. They are my parents.”

“Fine, parents . While they adopted you at a hospital, that might not have been where you were born. You may have been found. Say in a field. Or beside the road, perhaps? The paperwork isn’t clear.”

Ellie looked both shocked and disgusted. “The paperwork!” Her eyes traveled the width of the room, side to side, landing on each man. That’s when she noticed Maximus holding a folder. His stony expression made ice crystals in her blood.

She pointed. “What is that?”

Maximus didn’t answer.

“So, you were stalking me?”

No one answered. She swung her accusing glare over to Evander, who met her with a sad expression. “You all were. It wasn’t a joke, was it? How long have you been watching me? Since the museum. Longer?”

“We have known about you for several weeks, Ellie. We had to know where you came from, who you are,” Camulos said.

“What does any of this have to do with anything that’s happened to me in the last several days?” she all but growled at him.

“It’s important.” Camulos’ gaze bounced to Maximus, and the two shared an unspoken word.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You killed them?” All four froze, glances shifting between them. “Aunt Diana said I was special. Told me to keep my magic hidden. My parents told me to hide. I tried to do what they ask. I tried so hard. But they died and—and, I lost control.”

Evander reached over and grabbed her hand. “How did they die, Ellie?”

Swinging her tear-filled gaze his way, she took in a shaky breath. “Car accident.” She swiped angrily at a tear. “They died in a car accident, but they never would have been on that road that time of night. It made no sense. I know they were killed.”

She turned to Max and stared him down. “I knew what the book was when Moreno gave it to me. I knew it was significant. Although, I never would have guessed Olympus existed, but I knew if I could find someone who spoke ancient Greek, I would find out why I’m like this. Why my parents were killed. I need answers, Max.”

Camulos spoke up. “So do we, Ellie. You have powers. Powers the strength of which I haven’t seen since Pandora. Your blood has ichor, but it’s also human blood, which means you are half of a god. I’m trying to work out which half, father or mother.”

Ellie glanced from Evander to Liam, who looked just as surprised as she did. She had strange, sparkly blood and magic her parents tried to help her conceal—all of that was true—but one of her birth parents being a god was beyond comprehension.

“I was born in a hospital,” she insisted. “My mother and daddy were called to the hospital shortly after I was born. I was two days old when they adopted me. My mama said I was the baby of someone who wanted me to have the best life possible.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

She shook her head.

Camulos nodded, content with that answer, while Ellie struggled not to fall apart. Evander slid his metal hand over hers and squeezed. She glanced down and then up into his face. A tender expression shaped his eyes, and she blinked to keep tears from spilling. Shock. It was the only word she could think of to describe what she felt—pure and utter shock.

“Have you ever met your birth parents?” Camulos persisted. “Think, Ellie. Maybe a babysitter, teacher, or someone in your life whom you call aunt but isn’t related.”

“Camulos, what’s this about?” Evander interjected.

“I have my reasons.”

“Care to share them?” Evander flicked his eyes to Ellie and Maximus before returning to Camulos. He was ignored.

“I wonder if you look like your mother or father. You have to favor one.”

“My parents ,” she hissed, lightning flashing in her eyes, “don’t look like me, but they are my parents. As to my biological parents, it doesn’t matter who I look like. I was given up and abandoned by both of them. I have enough real aunts, uncles, and cousins not to need fake ones. My parents loved me, that is all I care to know.”

“I’m only trying to figure out exactly who you are, Ellie. Why are you so important to Athena? She thinks you are the Serathena. Valerius sent daemons after you because he thinks you are the Serathena.”

“And you?”

Camulos was thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t.”

“Do you remember the story of Pandora I told you in the museum?” Maximus asked. Swinging her head to the fire, her eyes widened, forgetting for a second Maximus was in the room. “There’s more to that story than you know.”

“The gods might have created Pandora, but she was human first, and as such, she fiercely protected them. Your human history books say the taking of Helen launched a thousand ships. But that is the myth. The actual battle of Troy happened because Pandora trusted a Pythian. Pythian are the priestesses of the Oracle of Delphi. They are human oracles, immortal, and wielders of immense magic. They lived amongst the humans.”

“Another history lesson, Max?” Ellie twisted her lips.

The warrior huffed. “One Pythian was a woman named Aerelia. She was as thaumaturgic as Pandora, just as cunning. But it was her ability to see the future that set her apart, elevating her to queen among the mages. She was kind and beautiful, set to rule with grace. Until she fell in love with Valerius.”

“The Valerius that’s after me?”

Maximus nodded. “Yes. Valerius is the son of a muse and a Chthonian god. When his mother gave birth, Zeus killed her for the abomination she created. He wanted revenge. With Aerelia by his side, he used her ability to see the future to try to outwit the gods. What he didn’t count on was Aerelia’s thirst for the all-consuming darkness that Valerius could summon. She wanted more than revenge on Zeus; she wanted to conquer the gods, to rule Olympus. Her thirst soon turned her into a Dark Oracle, drawing on the umbramortis magic that runs rampant in the Shadow Realm. Chaos and war became her calling card. She attacked gods and created daemons that feed on human souls stolen from the Underworld. She had to be stopped. And so, Zeus once again killed someone Valerius loved.

“While in the Underworld, Aerelia drank from the River Acheron. All her darkest desires were magnified as hatred and malice consumed her. When she returned to the humans, a war broke out—the Trojan War. Humans and gods under the influence of Aerelia attacked the gods and Achaeans. She desired Zeus’ throne and used the humans to gain it. It was a realm full of mayhem, with Aerelia at the helm. More powerful than anyone realized, and with the waters of Acheron running in her veins, she was more deadly. She released the Titans into the world, destroyed cities, and took thousands of lives. The powers of the Dark Oracle had created a creature the gods couldn’t kill. The only way to stop her was to imprison her. Pandora and Hades devised a plan to capture her by luring the Titans into Tartarus. Binding a spell that tied Aerelia with the Titans ensured she and the beasts stayed in prison. Furious at being outsmarted, she devised her revenge and killed Pandora.

“But Pandora was clever. Her death permanently locked the gods out of the human realm. She had created a failsafe long ago that should anything happen to her, no one born on Olympus could cross to the human realm. Keeping the humans safe, should Aerelia escape, but damning the gods.”

Ellie had listened to every word and tried to wrap her mind around the story.

“What does all this have to do with me?”

“Valerius wants revenge. He wants his mate free. He wants a war. And he will stop at nothing to make sure that happens.”

“And Athena? Why does she want me dead?”

“If your blood touches the earth, it unlocks the prison cells. Athena wanted you killed with an enchanted dagger that would prevent this from happening. She is hell-bent on reversing the curse that holds the gods hostage without releasing the prisons,” Camulos answered.

“I don’t understand. I was born thousands of years after Pandora died. How can I be the key?”

“The oracle says it will be a demigod that comes to reverse the curse. Your blood has ichor in it. You have magic. Your blood may unlock Tartarus and Aerelia. Once released, she will destroy Olympus once and for all.”

“And you?” Ellie whispered.

“I believe you are the savior. You’re the one that will finally kill Aerelia. You will break the curse and set right the balance of Olympus once more.” Camulos settled his stare on her, and she could feel the hairs rise on her arms.

“How?”

“I believe the answer lies in Pandora’s words. If you would allow me to look over the grimoire, I’m fairly certain I can find the spell that Pandora used to lock the realms. If I can find the spell that breaks the curse, releasing the gods, they’ll have no need to kill you. You’ll no longer pose a threat. The Titans and Aerelia stay locked up, and you stay safe. That’s why you are here, Ellie,” Camulos said beside her.

She regarded each face, one after the other. They all had collectively hidden her, against all costs.

“But—but, if Athena thinks I’m dead, couldn’t I just go home? Wouldn’t everyone be safer? I could go home and live out my days. No one would know.” She waved her hand as the book appeared. “Here, take it.”

“You can’t go home. You need our protection, whether you want it or not. We must keep you out of sight from Athena until we can find the spell.”

Ellie swiveled her head from one to the other, each nodding in agreement. She held the book to her chest.

“But I want to go home.”

Camulos sighed as if she were an over-tired child. “It isn’t safe. I lied to protect you, Ellie. I lied to a goddess to save your life. Athena has warriors all over, from every part of Olympus. They can travel between the realms. Any of them could see you at your home and report back to her.”

“We can shift into human form,” Liam explained, his jovial smile gone for a moment. “A warrior could be anyone you meet. You were with us for weeks and didn’t know.”

“It’s for your safety as well as ours,” Evander said.

She looked up into the worry written on his face and frowned.

“For how long?” she said to the room.

“For however long we need until we find the spell that will reverse all of this,” Camulos answered.

“This is kidnapping,” Ellie snapped at Evander, turning her sudden anger on him.

“We are protecting you,” he mumbled.

The answer infuriated Ellie. “I don’t want your protection.”

Shoving the book away from her, she thrust it at them, hoping someone would take it from her. No one did.

“Just take this and let me go.”

Camulos stood, flitting his gaze to Maximus, who also stood. Liam and Callassa rose next, followed by Evander. They were dismissing her, telling her the conversation was over. Ellie stood abruptly, panic beginning to crawl through her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew they were being logical. If a warrior could be anyone, then nowhere but here was safe. She must give them time to find the spell, but she couldn’t help but feel like there had to be another way. As her panic grew, she frantically glanced around the room as each of them shuffled out. It felt like a door being slammed shut. Shut and locked. She was suddenly suffocating. The panic that had crept on the fringes now blasted forward, the same panic she felt when Evander had locked her in her cabin.

Locked in her room.

She remembered Evander locking the door to her cabin. Remembered the Chthonian warrior attacking her. Remembered his enormous wings and the icy pull of death. She remembered the terror, the swirling mass of panic and fear. She had turned her magic on him, hitting him several times, screaming at him as the world around her narrowed into a swirling vortex of madness.

“I—I can’t just stay here, Maximus.” Clutching the book, she stared at a spot on the floor, clinging to anything that would keep her grounded instead of hurling her into the maelstrom that pulled at the edges of her vision.

Maximus turned to her as he circled the couch to leave. He ignored her statement and pointed his chin at the wooden door on the right. “I’ve put you in that chamber. You’ll be across the study from Evander.”

“No,” she whispered, bringing her wild eyes to his.

Maximus headed down the hallway silently, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” Syren said as she squeezed her hand. Liam stood beside her and smiled weakly. “It will only be for a few days, they said.”

“It will, love. You’ll see.”

“No, no.” Ellie shook her head, begging them to see the panic, the utter fear. “I don’t want to stay here.” She watched them turn past Evander and head in the opposite direction.

Trapped. I’m trapped.

Camulos left without saying a word to her, following Maximus.

“We’ll find a way out of this—” Evander stopped when she turned her gaze to him. Crossing to her, he laid his hands on her shoulders, grounding her to this realm, her sandals sinking into the plush carpet.

“Ellie.” His gentle voice called to her frantic, whirling mind.

She was panting, her fists clenched, barely audible as she whispered, “Trapped.”

“Ellie. Ellie, look at me. Eyes on me.”

Obeying him, she lifted her gaze and clung to those blue-green orbs that now stared back at her.

“I’m not leaving you. You are not alone. You are not trapped.”

Her nostrils flared on each intake of breath as air struggled to fill her lungs.

“Breathe. Breathe. Slowly, breathe.” He took in a slow, steady breath, and instinctually, she copied him, keeping her eyes fixed on him. He let it out in a slow gush. She did also, letting out the little air in her lungs in a short whoosh.

“Breathe. Again. Look at me. Listen to me.”

He was giving her instructions, and all she could do was follow. Tears slid down her frozen face as she breathed in and out, each time filling her oxygen-starved lungs with more air. The constricting of her heart in her chest seemed to lessen.

“That’s right. Good, breathe Ellie. Keep breathing. You are not trapped. We are doing our very best to protect you. You are not trapped.”

He kept repeating himself. His words soaked into her mind, pulling the pieces back together, anchoring her, calming her. Several minutes passed, him breathing, her following, until she felt herself returning. Felt her heart slowing. She turned her trembling chin up.

“I want to go home.” Suddenly aching for her bed and her parent’s ranch, she wanted to smell the Texas air. See the sunset blast colors of purples and blues, golds and oranges across the vast open sky.

He tucked a wild curl behind her ear. “I know you do. We will do everything we can. Can you trust us? It’s only for your—”

“If you say protection, Evander, I swear to the heavens.” She shot him a fierce look. “I don’t want your protection. I don’t need it. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t ask for any of this.” She stepped back, suddenly finding her voice. She narrowed her eyes as a hint of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

A sudden wave of loneliness gripped her heart as she glared. A few days ago, she was planning a visit to Athens; now, she was a prisoner. And the man whose kisses had set fire to her blood now made her recoil. Ellie turned without a word and headed to her new room. Opening the wooden door, she slammed it closed behind her.

With our crew now unanimously lying, some to each other, others to the gods themselves, it begs to reason, Dear Reader, that their own mistakes caused the storm they sailed into. Only time will tell if our heroes and our villains will collide or if something else, something darker, lurks in the shadows.