Chapter II #3
I tell myself that maybe Theo’s right, that maybe I haven’t done anything wrong, but the uneasiness coiling in my stomach doesn’t go away.
“Come on.” Theo props the serving tray against the wall, then throws an arm over my shoulders. The weight of it grounds me and makes me feel a little better. “Let’s go for a walk.”
—
My mother’s gardens have always been my favorite place on the island.
During the day, the blazing sunlight often forces me to find refuge in the shade of their trees; tonight, though, the air is temperate.
It seems every leaf, branch, and flower here is dappled with ethereal silver moonlight.
Theo falls into step beside me as we wander the gardens’ winding paths in silence for at least an hour, past long dirt rows of asters and trickling stone fountains.
I take in the sweet scent of honeysuckle as we head toward a section of the gardens bordered by a wall of cypress trees and walk along its edge.
In the quiet, some of my uneasiness is allayed, and I breathe easier.
“I watched earlier, when you danced with your sisters,” Theo says. “You did really well.”
I swell with pride. Until Theo spoke, I hadn’t realized just how much I’d needed that praise. A smile tugs at my lips, and I nudge him. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” It’s Theo’s turn to smile, but now I detect a hint of mischief in it. “You got me away from the kitchens just in time. Hanna was bothering me again, kept pretending she was drunk and trying to kiss me.”
I snort. Recently, Hanna, one of my mother’s attendants, has been less and less subtle about her attraction to Theo. I raise my brow. “Perhaps you should let her kiss you,” I tease.
Theo rolls his eyes. “I don’t want to kiss her.”
“Why not?” I elbow him in the ribs as we near the end of the cypresses. “Don’t tell me she’s not pretty enough—”
“Wait.” Abruptly Theo looks up, frowning.
“What?”
He holds a finger to his lips to silence me before taking a few steps forward and peeking around the last cypress tree bordering the gardens.
I know that, on the other side, there’s nothing but a small open lawn.
When he turns to face me again, his expression is stricken. I quietly pad over to join him.
“What’s—?” I look over his shoulder, then fall silent.
It takes me a moment to understand what I am seeing. On the garden’s open lawn, in the exact place where Theo and I have sat countless times, they are only two indistinct figures at first. Slowly, though, my vision focuses.
It is one of the sea nymphs.
I know it instantly. She’s dark-skinned, inhumanly beautiful. Her short, curly locs are colored the brilliant blue of the ocean under sunlight, fanned out around her head in a halo. She is clearly another one of Nereus’s many daughters, though I don’t know her name.
I do, however, recognize the god pressing her into the grass, even with his face bent into the crook of her neck.
Poseidon’s dark hair is silhouetted in the moonlight, and a breathy sound escapes the sea nymph as she rakes her fingers through it before they kiss.
One of his hands snakes down her side, then disappears between her thighs.
I cannot see, but I know he is touching her in a private place.
That strikes me as odd. She doesn’t seem to mind, but I don’t understand why.
Blood roars in my ears as I stand half hidden by the trees, transfixed.
The two of them are utterly consumed by what they’re doing; they haven’t even noticed us.
Some part of me knows we should leave before that changes, but I find my feet have rooted themselves into the grass, anchoring me there.
I watch as Poseidon moves the hand between the nymph’s thighs faster, and she begins to moan, arching her back as she grips his shoulders and squirms with apparent pleasure.
I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry, and there’s a new, hard lump in my throat.
I don’t know exactly what the two of them are doing, but I find that the longer I watch, the harder it is to look away.
Some deep, innate instinct tells me that I’m seeing something I shouldn’t be, something mysterious and utterly adult, but even that isn’t enough to make me stop watching.
Strange new sensations begin to surge through my body—heat pools low in my stomach; there’s a pleasant, peculiar tightness between my own legs.
Suddenly, the nymph cries out, and a shudder trembles through my whole body.
“Meddy.”
I jump. Had he not touched my arm, I would have forgotten Theo was there.
It’s impossible to know what my friend is thinking; his face is inscrutable.
At once, I’m embarrassed. Had he been watching Poseidon and the nymph, too, or had he been watching me?
I find myself wondering what I must look like, if my thoughts are written all over my face.
Slowly, we withdraw until we are hidden completely by the cypress trees again.
“We should go,” Theo whispers.
I open my mouth, but he turns and begins walking away quickly before a single word leaves it. I glance over my shoulder a final time, then I follow.