On the contrary, he now seems more interested in taking you with him than he is in rediscovering his suddenly-forgotten grudge.
“Listen, Po,” you say, trying to talk as tough as you can for a person currently being held-up entirely by one hand gripping a fancy yacht railing. “You’ve got three seconds to get Z back up here or I’ll be dead. So please—” with your last bit of strength, you summon every ounce of energy in your body and yell, “King Poseidon, maker of storms, lord of the sea, bring Z back upright now!”
The last thing you hear is Poseidon laugh.
And then the darkness takes over.
* * *
When you wake, bright, blueish light streams down all around you, filtering in from a single, wide, rectangular window across from where you lay.
Rolling over, you whack your arm into something broad and warm and muscular.
It’s…Ziros!
“Ziros!” you cry, flinging your arms around him. “You’re alive! You’re okay!”
“Of course I am,” he says, as if it’s completely silly that you were worried at all. “Didn’t think a little thing like that could kill me, could you?”
You blink, trying to get your bearings.
That’s when you realize you’re lying beside him in bed in the luxury suite of the yacht, and the bright, blueish light you were seeing is not from a window, but in fact, from the big-screen television on the opposing wall.
“I got bored waiting,” he says in explanation, shutting off the TV with the remote. “But I couldn’t figure out how to work the damn thing.”
At least he figured out how to turn it on?
Still.
“What…time is it?” You ask groggily. Still confused about how exactly you ended up in bed.
It couldn’t have been all a dream, or else Ziros wouldn’t have responded like he did.
“Three in the morning. You slept a while. And the crew seemed pretty shaken, but we’re back at the dock now.” With a grin, he adds, “Guess Blondie is gonna be hearing about how we almost got his yacht sucked down a giant whirlpool to Atlantis.”
You stare at Ziros.
“Oh. My. God. That wasn’t a dream!?”
He just grins, taking your jaw in one hand as he leans in close enough your lips nearly touch. “No, my beautiful, powerful sorceress. That was not a dream. I can’t believe you actually ordered that crusty old barnacle around and got away with it!”
Hang on.
Did he just call you hisbeautiful sorceress?
Your head spins, and you drift sideways, slumping against the bed as Ziros lets go of your jaw. Frowning.
“Damn. Seems you’ve used too much magic for one night. You’d better get some rest,” he says, pulling the covers up around your shoulders.
Leaning in.
And for a second, you swear he’s about to kiss you on the forehead.
Then he sits up, folding his arms.
Watching you from a distance.
“Wait,” you mutter. “Aren’t you gonna tell me what you did to get old Po’ there so pissed-off in the first place?”
