Chapter 54
The harbor bled.
That was the first thought that struck me as Menelaus’s fleet of ships pulled away from it. The sea stretched vast beneath a sun still pulling itself from slumber, a wine-dark color that shifted in molten hues of crimson and garnet. The Aegean Sea. The sea of war.
And I was finally sailing it.
My breath caught in my throat as if I’d glimpsed a god.
The dock seethed with life. Warriors in crimson cloaks moved between siege carts stacked with stone-shot and crates of oil-soaked cloth.
Sailors barked orders skyward to rigging crews perched like gulls among the masts.
Near the quay, a woman with a bronze diadem studded in silver oversaw the sealing of amphorae, their mouths blackened with tar.
But all I could see was that water.
Not a fountain. Not a basin. No, this was untamed.
Elemental. The water heaved and rolled, hammering against the long, lean hulls of the triremes as if eager to split them apart.
Oars groaned in their locks. The sea churned like something alive, restless …
a vein of the Underworld forcing itself to the surface.
“Sweet Amphitrite,” I whispered, soaking it all in. I hadn’t realized how small my world was until it stretched.
It was beautiful … and I didn’t even have to share it with Menelaus. He’d chosen to ride another ship. Whatever the reason for it, I was grateful. His presence did not stain this deck.
A soft smile stole across my face as the ship thrummed beneath my feet, the timbers groaning with every sway as we sliced through the waters. I gripped the railing, cool sea spray kissing my face, and let the wind tangle itself in my hair.
I had never been on a ship before, never tasted sea salt so raw it burned the back of my throat.
The horizon stretched before me, vast and endless and unknown. I leaned forward, my heart beating faster than it should, and smiled into the wind. At the sky, at the sea, at the calm in my chest.
“Well, well,” came the familiar drawl behind me. “Our queen has finally found something to smile about.”
I didn’t turn, though my lips twitched. “I used to smile all the time.”
“Oh?”
“Until you arrived,” I said, spitting the words like a curse.
Theron let out a laugh and stepped into view, his sandals oddly silent against the wood. “I somehow doubt that.”
“You’re impossible.”
“That’s what my mother used to say. Just before she told me I was a mistake.”
I raised a brow. “So you do have a mother. Here I was thinking you’d clawed your way out of the Underworld fully grown.”
Theron’s grin curved, lazy as sin. “Didn’t I? Maybe I just borrowed her womb for the occasion.”
A laugh caught in my throat … but it was uneasy. He’d said it like a jest, tossed out carelessly, but there was something in his eyes that made my skin prickle. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or … if there was a bite of truth in there somewhere.
There was a moment, one of those strange, suspended moments where I could feel him watching me, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. The wind caught a curl at his temple and tossed it loose.
I focused harder on the water.
“You’re standing awfully close to the edge,” he said, all silken arrogance. “Lean too far, and you’ll fall. And then someone would have to dive in to save you. Not me, obviously, but someone.”
I scoffed. “They needn’t worry. If I fall, it’s only because I want a sea monster to devour me quickly so I don’t have to hear your voice again.”
Theron’s grin tilted. “Your Majesty, I wouldn’t say that so lightly. Some monsters take their time when they feast.” His eyes lingered on mine, unsettling. Then the grin deepened. “Nevertheless … you wound me.”
“I’m barely trying.”
“You should try harder. If you’re going to wound a man, make it worth the scar.”
I glanced sideways. “How many of those scars did women leave on you?”
“Oh, several. All invisible. All deeply traumatic.”
I snorted, and his eyes flicked to my mouth like he’d won something. “Ah, there it is. The smile again.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t. I’ll savor every one you give me.”
His words stopped me cold. Sweetness hadn’t seemed to be Theron’s weapon of choice, and my pulse stumbled as I searched his face, half convinced he was mocking. But there was no gloating or pointed edge … only that steady gaze, disarming in its rare honesty.
A lull stretched between us, broken only by the steady dip and pull of the oars, their blades slicing clean through the surface in perfect rhythm. There was something almost sacred about the sea, the way it stretched, endless and wild, far beyond anything I’d known.
“First time at sea?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“Yes.”
“And?”
I inhaled deeply. “It feels like … like everything I’ve missed without knowing it.”
He studied me for a beat too long. “There’s more where this came from, you know. Whole worlds. Forests that glow, cities that sing, mountains with stones older than memory. Islands that rise and fall with the moon’s pull. Caves that whisper secrets from before time began.”
I didn’t respond for a moment, trying to envision such things. It was practically beyond comprehension. He and Achilles were very good at making my heart ache.
“You’ve been to such places?”
He offered a casual shrug. “Some of them. Others are stories I stole from dying men … figured they wouldn’t be needing them anymore.”
“Makes one wonder why you would leave such places,” I mused.
His eyes turned hard. “Because even paradise can rot. And sometimes the monsters you fear aren’t something you flee … but something you’ve brought with you.”
My eyes widened as I studied him.
The fierceness in his gaze ebbed, replaced by something lighter, more insufferable. His smirk tugged back into place. “Or maybe … I just got bored, Your Majesty.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” I said sarcastically.
The tang of ozone suddenly thickened on my tongue. My pulse spiked.
“You—” My hand flew to the dagger at my waist. In one swift motion, I yanked it free and leveled the blade at his chest. “You’re using your magic. On me!”
My hand shook as I realized what I’d done … Gods, I’d actually pulled steel on him. A dagger pressed to his ribs.
Theron only cocked his head, utterly unbothered, as though the blade were nothing more than a child’s toy aimed his way. His gaze slid to the knife, then back to me. “She does have teeth,” he murmured. “And I do have one small correction, if I may.”
“What?” I growled … only making his lips stretch wider.
“I was trying to use it on you.”
My grip tightened. “Trying?”
A faint crease tugged at his brow. “I wanted to see if I could read you.”
My blood boiled at the latest revelation of his power. “Well? Did you get anything?”
For the first time, his easy expression slipped. His eyes narrowed, searching my face as though the answer might give itself away. Finally, he shook his head once. “Nothing. You’re a wall.”
A bitter laugh scraped my throat as I lowered the dagger. “Trust me,” I said, spitting each word, “you don’t want to see the thoughts in my head.”
His gaze gleamed. “I would highly disagree with that.”
My eyes held on Theron … until the sea shivered.
A ripple tore across the starboard side, dragging my gaze to the water just as the surface broke. Foam burst upward in violent spatters, red and frothing, hissing against the hull like breath ferried from some vast throat below.
I seized the railing and my knuckles blanched as the wood bit into my palms. “Gods,” I whispered, eyes locked on the churning crimson water. “What is that?”
Theron’s smile widened into something feral. “Our welcoming party.”
The ship lurched violently, pitching us sideways. Shouts erupted as sailors lost their grip on the oars, wood splintering as some snapped against the swell. The mast groaned, ropes whipping loose. And then … the sea split open.
A vast coil surged skyward, thick with muscle, scales gleaming black as onyx. Water poured off its hide in sheets, seeming to turn into blood as it crashed back into the waves. The shadow of it alone dwarfed the ship.
I was shaking as I glanced back briefly to see that the other ships were all veering wide, their oars biting hard into the red waves as soldiers shouted commands.
Crimson sails snapped as triremes swung in sharp arcs, steering clear of the serpent thrashing at our hull.
Crews pulled frantically, their bronze-tipped prows cutting away, leaving ours isolated in the monster’s coil.
Theron, of course, hadn’t so much as flinched. He watched the serpent rise as if it were nothing more than a dithyramb singer stumbling late to Dionysus’s festival. “Ah. I was wondering when she’d decide to make an appearance.”
I snapped my head toward him. “What?”
“She’s a sea serpent,” he said, squinting against the spray. “Wraps herself around ships and squeezes till the timbers crack. A flair for theatrics, that one.”
My blood ran cold. “That’s Skylla? As in the Skylla? The Brutium legend—the one who swallowed an entire fleet?”
“That’s the one.” He studied it absently, like it wasn’t a monster pulled from my darkest dreams. “Poseidon’s favorite pet. Looks like she’s floundering without her master.”
The deck erupted into chaos. Soldiers screamed, some drawing blades, others frozen in terror.
Oars clattered uselessly as rowers abandoned their benches, stumbling across the planks in panic.
Another serpentine loop rose, then another …
massive coils undulating like a leviathan dance.
The creature’s head breached at last, sleek and angular, with eyes the size of shields and teeth like spearheads.
She shrieked. The sound ripped the air apart, so high and violent my ears rang, my blood ice in my veins.
Theron yawned.
The ship lurched hard as a coil smashed against the hull. The deck pitched. Men tumbled screaming into the froth. I caught the railing just in time, splinters biting deep into my palms as wood groaned beneath us.