Heat surged up my neck, but I said nothing. I continued down the hall, past the bathroom to where two whitewashed bedrooms waited on either side. Each one was curved and sun bleached, with blue-and-white duvets and framed photographs of Santorini hung above the beds.
I took the room on the right and slammed the door, leaning against it with a sharp exhale. Thank the gods the villa had two bedrooms.
I climbed into the comfy bed and pulled the cover up to my chin. My feelings were a tangled mess.
Only an heir of Poseidon could claim the box, which I was not, but Finn was. That meant I had to work with him if I wanted to find out what was in that box.
Rage roiled inside me, and a harsh breath escaped my nose. Smug prick.He must have realized I’d been trying to work against him and escape with the artifact.
At least we’d completed the first task—there were only two more. I massaged my forehead. After we’d claimed the box, and read the secondhalf of the prophecy it contained, I’d never have to see Finn again. Bit by bit, my pinched eyes and clenched fists loosened, and sleep washed over me.
I had just drifted off when I jolted upright. The soft sheets fell from my shoulders as my ears strained and I rubbed sleep from my eyes. I was sure I’d heard something—a cry of pain.
I whipped my head left to right, scanning the darkness, but the room was still, save for the distant sighing of the sea through the open window. A shadow flickered in the corner, and my breath hitched, but it was only the curtains swaying in the moonlight.
I must have imagined it, or perhaps it was a dream.
I yawned, rubbing a hand down my face, then eased back against the pillows. The tension ebbed from my limbs as my eyes fluttered shut again, sleep reclaimingme.
31
Skye
There seemed to be a party every night in the Kingdom of Thálassa, and tonight was no exception.
I adorned my wrists with golden bangles and pinned my curls into the new Grecian style I was embracing, littering the strands with glittering embellishments.
A knock sounded at my door, and I flung it open to find Alexandros floating there, waiting to escort me.
Tonight’s soiree was in the gardens, and we drifted there together. Pillars draped in bioluminescent flowers lined the dining space, which was suspended beneath a stone roof. Beyond them, gardens with every color of coral stretched for miles into the aquamarine waters.
At the center of the dining pavilion hung a marble table heaped with delicacies, giant abalone-shell cradles dangled from golden chains around it, anchored high in the ornate roof above.
King Proteus and Queen Peisinoe sat at the head, their tails drifting beneath their cradles, which swayed with the water’s movement. Besidethem, seated along one side of the lavish table, were the Neptunus Mer: Princess Glacies and Pisceon. Next to them sat Princess Porphura and her wife, Layla. Across from them, Edward and Alexandros’s twin, Damon, had already taken their places, and we slipped into the swing-like seats beside them. Someone must have helped lift Edward into his.
Alexandros squeezed my thigh, and arousal coursed through me, tingling in the space below my navel. “Bella.” He kept his purple-flecked eyes on me as he poured me a glass of wine, and I bit my lip at the thought of what we would engage in after dinner.
Alexandros had spent the night in my chambers after the pleasure party, and then again the night that followed, beginning my education in the erotic arts of those born with tails. I knew he had other lovers—he was very open about it in the glances he exchanged with passing mermaids and mermen—but it didn’t bother me. This wasn’t love; it was an arrangement of the flesh, and I was savoring every moment of it.
When Alexandros was pleasuring me, the thoughts of my lost humanity, Parker’s severed throat oozing warm blood across my thighs, and his rough hands around my neck faded from my mind. With each moment lost to the ocean’s pleasures, acceptance came more easily, and I learned how to let go. I was grateful to Alexandros for this mercy, for offering me a reprieve from the endless wars waged in my mind.
Pisceon slammed his fist down on the table, rattling our cutlery and causing the vats of Thálassian wine to teeter precariously as the chains that held the floating structure creaked. “Will you insist on engaging in this blatant revelry when our people are dying?”
A hush fell over the group. All eyes drifted to Pisceon, his muscular chest taut as his fierce eyes cut between us.
King Proteus threw up his hands. “My sons will gather our army, and we will attend the summit in Okeanós. What more would you have me do?”
“People need to know what we’ve seen. They need to be ready,” Pisceon snarled. Glacies placed a calming hand on his arm, but he shook her off. “Tell them!” He glared at her.
“We saw unspeakable horrors, Your Majesty. The Drowned were stronger from using Mer blood, and the Fisherman holds some other magic,” she told the king.
Pisceon cracked his neck muscles in frustration. “I can’t laze around getting pleasured and drinking wine. I must do something while we wait for my cousin to return.”
An angry breath shot out of the king. “I won’t go around scaremongering and taking away what last enjoyment my people have!”
“Let me train them, then.” Irritation flashed across Pisceon’s face, but he kept his gaze locked on the king.
“Train them?” King Proteus’s brows shot up.
