Chapter 33
Lyssa
The silence on deck is unbearable.
We’ve left Port Galatas, and if I wanted to I could channel every bit of my Rage into the ship and blast through the skies until dawn.
But the Rage is absent.
Hollow, bitter, empty defeat is filling every part of me instead, bursting from my skin, oozing over the planks of my beloved ship.
We never had a chance.
Everything I told myself about the Alastor making a difference, all the desperate fantasies of stopping or killing Hercules before he became immortal, was a lie.
“We can’t stop him.”
Fear is so close to bubbling over. The memories are so close to taking control.
“You shot him, Lyssa.” Epizon’s low voice carries across the deck, and I press my head harder into my hands. “Nobody has ever shot Hercules before.”
“That’s true, cap,” Len says.
“And Hera made sure the whole of Olympus knows,” Lucas says. “You proved to everyone he can be harmed, captain.”
I look up slowly. The others are sitting on the planks like me, each pair of eyes fixed on mine.
“We may not have won the trial, but that’s a pretty big win, nonetheless,” Epizon says with a small smile.
I force the grisly thoughts ricocheting around my head to slow, and repeat what they just said inside my mind.
I shot him, and Hera made sure everyone watching knew it was me.
He was standing there before me, his eyes filled with murder, and I snapped.
I took my slingshot, loaded it, and fired, my entire vision red. I hadn’t thought it through, planned the attack, or actually believed I’d kill him.
I just let the fury take over, and my body followed its Rage-filled commands.
But now, everyone would know that little Lyssa in her shoddy ship had harmed the mighty Hercules.
I’d made him bleed in front of the world.
Epizon is right. That is a win, of sorts.
I push myself to my feet. “A bath and food,” I say. “That’s what we all need.”
Epizon leaps up, relief on his face, followed by Len and Lucas. Alexios gingerly picks himself up.
“See you in the galley in thirty minutes.”
“I can’t tell you how much I would give to be alone right now,” I say to Alexios as he follows me into my cabin. “But because of you, that’s not an option. Don’t speak to me.”
“Believe it or not, the feeling is mutual.” He eases himself down onto the mattress, and I’m surprised to feel a tiny stab of sympathy.
“I—” I start, then close my mouth. He closes his eyes.
“You what?”
“I did try to catch you,” I murmur.
His eyes open and he lifts his head to look at me. “Bassari is one of my best-kept secrets. I didn’t want the world to know about him,” he says eventually.
I frown. “Why not?”
He waves a hand. “Reasons.”
“Reasons like you don’t want to waste your time healing all the sick people who would seek you out if they knew about him and how powerful he his?” New annoyance rolls through me, and I actually relish it. It’s far better than the hollow defeatism, or the forced forward motion.
“No. Not reasons like that.” He closes his eyes again and drops his head on the pillow.
“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, don’t. I’m going for a bath. Set one foot in that washroom while I’m in there, and you’ll need Bassari again.”
He doesn’t answer, so I whirl and stomp into the washroom. As I’m closing the door, I hear him speak.
“That was always his Trial to win. We’ll get the next one.”
I sigh and click the door shut.
I wash quickly, discovering that what I just said to Alexios was a lie. I don’t want to be on my own at all. I just don’t want to be with him.
I want a distraction, want Epizon’s reassurance, Len’s inane, waffling chatter.
Anything that stops the memories, and the crippling fear and doubt they carry with them, from bubbling up.
I dress in clean clothes, tie my hair back in a black scarf, and re-enter my bedchamber.
Alexios is fast asleep.
I tap his boot. “Hey. Bath and food.”
He opens his eyes, and for a heartbeat I see something new in them. Not the charming sparkle, or the clever shine, but something… real. Deep. But as they focus on me, the depth recedes to nothing.
He sits up quickly, swinging his legs over the bed. He’s moving slightly easier, and before I can say another word, he’s standing and shedding clothes.
“For the sake of Hades, can’t you wait until you’re in there to undress?”
The gleam is back in an instant. “Of course I can,” he says, then slides his trousers, and underwear, to the floor.
I spin around, in time to stop him seeing my blush. “You’re an arrogant asshole,” I mutter.
“And you’re a prude.”
“You’re trying to intimidate me, and it won’t work.”
“I’m trying to have a wash,” he says, and I hear the washroom door click.
When we enter the cramped galley almost an hour later, Len hops off his chair and trots over to me with a glass of ouzo. Alexios holds his hand out for one, and Len completely ignores him.
“To the captain!” the satyr says, and I bend to clink my glass with his. “For a truly excellent shot.”
I put the glass to my lips and tip the whole drink down my throat. It burns, and I relish the feeling. Fire moving through me is what I need. Not fear, or doubt. Fire.
“I’ve cooked stew. You hungry?”
I look gratefully at Epizon as he speaks. “Starving.”
The huge man is pulling bowls from one of the many galley cupboards and setting them on the counter.
The galley is a functional area, one wall lined with everything we need to cook and eat our meals, and a table with room for six taking up the rest of the space.
Epizon moves past the taller of the two ovens and heaves a battered metal pot off one of the four burner rings that tops it.
The shorter oven, installed for Len, barely crests his knee.
“Grub’s up.” Epizon begins passing the bowls out to everyone around the table, and we all sit, digging in hungrily.
“Cap, I’ve got an idea,” Len announces across the galley table. I look up from my bowl and nod at him.
“Fire away,” I say, trying not to let the apprehension show on my face. I don’t want to talk about the next Trial. I don’t really want to talk at all.
“I think we need to give her access to sunlight,” he says.
I blink, unsure what he’s talking about.
“The thing in the tank. I’ve been studying her, and reading about races from the water realms, and I think she needs sunlight.”
“Okay. Then I guess we need to get her up on deck,” I say slowly, relieved he isn’t talking about the Trials, or Hercules.
“If we’re not heading off until tomorrow, I think we should do it now, while we have a breather,” Len says. “I really think we should do what we can for her.”
“If you think it will be good for her, sure. Do you want to leave her up there permanently?”
“No, no, no.” Len shakes his head emphatically as he answers. “No living creature wants constant exposure to light. Maybe let’s start with a few hours and see how she responds.”
“Agreed. We’ll finish this, and then get her tank up top.”