With my arms and legs churning in desperate circles, I kicked harder and faster, driving my body past its breaking point. I was ascending—too slowly. My chest trembled, bubbles pouring from my mouth as a final breath tore out of me. My body convulsed, my throat closing as if the air inside it had turnedsolid, my muscles tensing with a burn that spread through my body like wildfire. Pressure pounded behind my eyes, veins straining to burst, as the water slipped past my lips and claimed my breath.
And then . . . my legs betrayed me, muscles locking, every kick weaker than the last.
No. No. No. No.
The terrain would shift to solid ground. I would not drown. I wasn’t panicking. I was calm.
I raised a quivering hand, trying to determine where the surface was, begging it to be closer than it seemed and then?—
My hand broke through the water barrier, and my fingers cut through the soft whisper of the wind.
I was close. Just one final push. For my mother. For her, I wouldn’t die like this—helpless and foolish.
A broad hand wrapped around my wrist like a lifeline, and I didn’t bother to wonder who it belonged to; I just clung to their hand, flailing myself upward as I clung to the hand like I would with a rope.
The water surged past my face, and my chest heaved as I dragged rapid intakes of air that ripped into my lungs like a blade, scorching every nerve. My body shook, legs weak and trembling. I fought to stay upright, still holding onto the mysterious hand. The pleasant air quickly turned sour as I pulled hard to hoist myself up, and the person holding me stumbled into the water.
The echoing splash of his fall stopped abruptly, and when I blinked again, I found myself on the cold, unforgiving concrete. Water burst from my mouth in a violent spray as I scrambled to my feet, my vision still blurry.
I leaned forward, bracing my hands on my knees. Before meeting my savior, I held my stance, letting my eyes run overtheir shoes. At least twice as large as mine and no evidence to suggest that they were soaked.
Shit.
A god.
I swallowed back the bitter taste and fought the shivers as my eyes landed on the garments lying silently nearby. My dagger was there. If I wwas fast enough, I could take it and fight.
Was I stupid enough to believe I could outdo a god? I didn’t know. I couldn’t think. Not when droplets of water still rolled past my skin. Not when my throat burned with acid.
But I had to take it. I couldn’t defend myself without it.
My eyes drifted to the man beside me, who turned his head to the left, as if to offer me privacy. With that as my cue, I lurched forward, collapsing onto my knees near the discarded clothes, my hands quivering as I rummaged through them.
I took my shirt and shook it. Nothing. I lifted my pants into the air. Shook them. Still nothing.
Where was it? I left it there. If 226688 chose this moment to toy with me?—
“Is this the item you were hoping to find?” the voice, a combination of velvety smoothness and raspy harshness, questioned from behind me. A hint of amusement lingered in his tone.
I squeezed my eyes shut and drew in a lungful of air. I didn’t need to turn around to know he held my missing object.
“Did Zeus send you here to end my life?”
Inch by inch, I pivoted to face him. Before, I hadn’t been able to fully appreciate him, but now his beauty struck me like a physical blow. A knot formed in my throat as I took in his height. I observed the graceful dance of his blond hair against his olive skin and the way his full, light eyebrows framed his face.
Zeus was a beautiful man in his own way—a wicked one—while the man in front of me was almost . . . angelic.
When my eyes met his heart-shaped lips, they were twitching, as though they were struggling to hold back a chuckle.
“No.” He spoke nonchalantly, as if murder was an everyday topic, not a disturbing one. The man’s green eyes, sharp and assessing, glinted as he took me in. “Nevertheless, if he had sent me with the intention of your demise, your actions would have relieved me of that responsibility.” A smile played on his lips as he glanced back at the shifting terrain, pausing for a breath. “As you nearly succeeded in ending your own life.”
“I wasn’t trying to end my life,” I argued, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I wastraining. Perhaps you should solidify your training grounds to prevent fatal injuries.”
The man shrugged. “It was an error in our judgment to believe that the majority of people would be able to swim by age twenty-two.”
I was about to agree but my words would have been a mere echo, a theft of his words. My tongue found purchase between my teeth, and I paused, considering what would be fitting to say.
A shiver ran down my spine as the biting wind whipped against my wet skin. I moved my arms to cross them over my chest, droplets falling from my fingertips and splattering on the ground.
