Chapter Twenty-Six
Thalia
The bright light of morning sun after a storm glowed in her eyes, causing Thalia to close and cover them with her palm. A faint pain still radiated from the spot in her stomach where a venom-tipped arrow had met its mark.
She shouldn’t be here. She should be dead. Maybe she was. Maybe this place, this unbelievably bright and shimmering world she woke up in, was Elysium. At least she would be with Dafne now.
Fluttering her eyes open once more, Thalia tried to adjust to the light. Satin gray sheets wrapped around her arms and legs, matching the thick knit blanket that lay on top. Equally mundane velvet chairs surrounded a small low-lying alabaster table by a crackling fire.
If this was Elysium, she would prefer the in-between. What a dull sort of afterlife this was. It appeared no different than a merchant ship.
“Mykonos?” Was her psychí here? Was she allowed to pass on as well?
No answer came, but a tingle up their bond led Thalia to believe she was within distance.
The little creature had ended up wherever this was.
Another thread pulled at her mind. Curious.
She had not felt this one before. Was it perhaps her sister?
But the pull was reminiscent of the first fall of snow against pine trees in the forest, the calmness of the air that whipped around her as she ran free.
The thread tugged again, a faint knocking sound swirling around it. Thalia’s head cocked to the side. “Hello?”
“Welcome back, gatáki.” Standing in the doorway, with his arms folded across his chest was Dimitris, a feral flicker in his stare. “I’m glad to see you awake.”
He was alive. Dimitris was alive. A tingling wave settled. She was alive.
Wait.
He was alive and he was talking to her in her head.
Only Mykonos could do that.
Only a psychí could do that.
What. The. Fuck.