Thirty-Three
When Paris kissed me, the world shook. My heart jumped into my throat. It was the most electrifying and terrifying kiss I'd ever had. The boat trembled, and the pressuring pain bloomed in my chest, but I couldn't pull away. He grounded me. His lips were so soft and warm, and when his tongue dashed across my lips, my knees weakened. We were standing on a boat, chased by a large sea serpent and the god of the sea, yet nothing else mattered but the two of us.
There was no denying it now. The damned prince had hooked me in. He wrapped his uninjured arm around my waist, pressing close. His touch was so tender and gentle that even though I might have thought this moment was straight out of a romance movie, I melted into him.
Just as I threaded my fingers through his hair, the boat lurched to a violent halt. Our kiss was rudely interrupted as we tumbled to the ground, Paris grunting painfully when he landed on his injured arm. I rolled away from him quickly as a loud, angry roar popped our little bubble.
"Are you alright?" he asked when really it was I who should have been asking. His wound was still bleeding freely, staining his outfit crimson. He was so pale.
Something dark and ominous loomed over us. Whatever Aphrodite was doing to the boat, it wasn't fast enough to outrun the leviathan. I threw my body over Paris as splinters and chunks of wood fell around us, scratching my bare arms.
"We need to get off this boat," Hector said.
"Jumping into the water is even more dangerous," I said, my voice hitching with panic.
"It doesn't matter. It's either sink or swim," he snapped, hoisting Paris to his feet. "We only angered it off when we hurt it. It'll take down this whole boat and crush us in the process."
"But what about Zoisme?"
Hector glanced at the slave, who was still unconscious. "If you want to carry deadweight then be my guest. My suggestion? Leave her."
Leave her. So callous. So blunt. Just as a warrior prince would be.
But he was also right. She was still unconscious and I wouldn't be able to hold her up and swim to shore on my own. Leaving her was my only choice if we really had to flee, but I didn't want to... not with Paris in the state he was in.
On cue, the younger prince swayed dangerously, unsteady by the dip and roll of the boat. He leaned into his brother, eyes fluttering. The crew had long since abandoned the ship, risking the water instead of sticking around on the boat. It was just the four of us now, one giant sea serpent and a god. Those odds were not in our favour.
"He can't swim," I argued. "Aphrodite's driving the boat. She'll get us to shore. She promised."
Hector's mouth opened to argue, and then he froze, those brown eyes latching onto something above my head. Then, something landed on the boat with a dull thud.
Slowly, I turned, starting with my head, my torso and legs following after a delay. Poseidon stalked towards us, trident held out beside him, a wicked smirk on his lips. His monster held us firm with its scaly tail, growling and hissing.
It was impressive, really. I knew that the serpent was big, but the sheer size of it was prehistoric. Water glistened on its beautiful, black scales. Its yellow eyes reminded me of a cat with diamond-shaped pupils and almond eyelids.
"Leaving so soon?" the god asked, his free hand brushing the snake's scaly hide. "My pet hasn't had the chance to play."
"Heh... nice snakey," I said, edging backwards towards Hector and Paris. "We don't need to fight."
"Talking to it or Poseidon isn't going to help," Hector hissed. It might not help the situation, but it helped me. The serpent roared and squeezed the boat. Wood splintered, and a large crack spread down the middle of the boat. We were seconds from capsizing. "We need to go. Now."
"Yup, exactly what I was thinking."
Poseidon smiled. "Where will you run to? The sea? There's no possible way you can outswim me in my own domain."
I winced as a loud crack echoed through the air. We ran towards the other side of the boat, dodging debris and trying to stay upright as the serpent shook us.
"Looks like we're going to put that theory to the test."
The serpent lunged, catching the floor beside me. It was so close its scaly head grazed my arm. Yelping, I staggered away and followed Hector to the edge of the boat, hardly hesitating as we leapt into the water.
We were still far enough away from the shore that, as I sank into the crystalline blue sea, a dreadful fear threatened to pull me deeper. The boat had been our best shot, and we couldn't outrun the serpent on it. There was no way we would outswim it, but maybe it was occupied destroying our ride.
I kicked to the surface, gasping for air and swallowing gulps of salty water as a sickening crack, followed by a surging wave washed over me. I tumbled through the water, limbs flailing—debris from the wreckage washed by, a broken plank smacking into my arm. The impact and the shocking pain pulled a scream from my lips, allowing a gush of water into my mouth and my lungs.
The boat capsized, and the leviathan bellowed triumphantly, which was horrifying to hear underwater. A thundering bellow that pushed into the depths of the sea. No doubt Hector was already swimming away, dragging a barely conscious Paris along with him. I felt a twinge of irritation at being abandoned but whatever. At least he was saving Paris at the same time, and he'd made it pretty clear that I wasn't important to him. If I drowned here, would he even say anything to Paris? Would Paris remember me?
A sharp question pushed through my blurring thoughts. If I died there, in the ancient world, would I die for real and never be able to return home?
All the kicking and flailing and struggling to breathe had taken its toll. The stabbing pain in my shoulder made it difficult to tread water, and I sank deeper into the sea. My chest hurt, my body screamed for air it would never receive. A deadly game, that's what it was. I was nothing but an insignificant flea that they wanted to toy with before squishing. There were 7 billion other people in the world. One less wouldn't make a difference. As Athena had said, more could be made.
At least Paris's story would be alright. I couldn't do any more damage if I died. The worst part was that I was going to die here, in a mythological world. My parents probably would never know what happened to me. Mom. Dad. My siblings...
My vision narrowed, dark unconscious clutching my mind. Dark hair and a flurry of bubbles approached me. Cool hands clutched my cheeks.
"I know there's more fight in you," Poseidon said. His voice was smoothed over by the water, but still so clear. It would be soothing, if not for the fact that the man it belonged to was trying to kill me. "Giving up so easily like this is pathetic. Find that warrior spirit and use it."
Fight, please. You put me in this mess. I wanted to say it, but nothing came out except bubbles and precious air. He sighed and looked up. I was slipping further and further into darkness.
"Looks like you've been spared," he said, "remember what I said. It's not time to go home yet."
Suddenly, he was gone and I was being dragged upwards. My body was limp as it raced towards the surface, and I should have wondered how this was possible, but maybe this was a hallucination as well.
The glossy surface of the water shattered as I broke through. The sudden ability to breathe reinvigorated my impulse to survive. I gasped, coughed as I was hoisted out of the water and onto a hot, dry floor.
The second I was on the floor, I rolled onto my side and vomited up every drop of water until my throat was raw, and all that was left was dry coughs. Exhausted shackles from drowning weighed down my limbs. I could barely lift my head. Instead, I curled onto my side and closed my eyes. By some miracle, I was alive.
Until someone spoke.
"Are you alright?"
My eyes snapped open. Despite the aching protests my body screamed at me, I rolled over and propped myself up onto my elbows.
I was on another boat. It wasn't the boat Hector had used. That one was at the bottom of the sea by now. It was also more robust than Hector's, with large, white sails and two lines of rowers on opposite sides of the deck. They worked tirelessly under the beating sun. Crewmen scurried about doing their chores, each of them eyeing me with blatant curiosity. There were lewd looks too, and my cheeks flamed as it clicked that I had been wearing white and was soaked to the bone. A glance down showed my worst fear. My clothes were plastered against my skin, revealing everything.
With a squeak, I wrapped my arms around my torso and drew my knees up to my chest. There was a sigh, and something heavy, scratchy and warm dropped over my shoulders.
"No one will bother you. You have my word."
Finally, I turned to face the person who spoke and found a man crouching beside me. He was young, perhaps closer to my age though I couldn't tell for certain. His sandy, blonde hair hung in limp curls around his tanned face, his eyes like pools of blue water. He was, surprisingly, clean-shaven and wore leather armour with two leather bands around his wrists. Beside him sat his traditional Corinthian-style helmet, which closely resembled Athena's, only it was less shiny and more banged up. It also didn't look to be made of gold, like Athena's, but bronze.
"What happened?" I asked.
My voice was rough and dry, and I suddenly felt so thirsty. All the salt water did was dehydrate me. As if reading my mind, the man held out a waterskin, and I drank from it heartily.
"Slow down. You'll make yourself sick," he said, gently prying the waterskin away from me. "You were drowning. My crew saw your ship being attacked by that leviathan. We waited until it was gone to search for survivors when there was this strange glow, like a beacon. We found you there." He gave me a reassuring smile. "You must have the gods' favour."
First cursed by the gods, now favoured.
"Yeah, right," I grumbled, "hardly anyone's favourite. Did you find anyone else? I-I was with two men... Hector and Paris. Or a girl?" Oh, god, how could I have abandoned Zoisme to die like that?
"Hector of Ilios, you mean?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow. There was a strange glint in his eye that made me nervous, but I felt compelled to answer, so I nodded. He sighed and let his arms dangle casually over his knees. "I'm sorry. We found no one else but you in the water. Perhaps they made it to shore."
I hoped they did. I hoped Paris and Zoisme were safe. Zoisme, my constant companion. She loved me even though I didn't love her back. She had defended me, aided me, listened to me and I abandoned her.
And Paris... I blinked when I felt the gentle brush of my fingers against my lips, tracing his touch as he kissed me. It had been so sweet, so dangerously sweet, and perfect. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be.
He was waiting for me on the shores in the distance... hang on... We were sailing away from the shore, not towards it.
"That boat was an envoy from Ilios?" the man said, cutting through my thoughts.
"Where are we going?" I asked, climbing to my feet. I swayed, my body pulsing with exhaustion and soreness, but I pushed through it. "I need to go there... I need to find Paris."
"Is Paris your lover?" the man's lips curled up, the likes of which sent a shiver down my spine. "We're on our way to Thessaly."
My blood ran cold. I was on a Greek ship, dressed like a Trojan woman. Things were incredibly tense between the two countries, and they were on the brink of war. That was why Hector had been deployed for Sparta. There were negotiations to be made, deals to be struck. War was inevitable, though, given that Paris and Helen ran away together...
"Oh god," I groaned, collapsing to the floor. "Please, I need to get to Sparta..."
I had to get Paris to Sparta to meet Helen, and Aphrodite would take me to Mount Olympus. My capture hadn't been part of the equation. I needed to get home. Things were already starting to glitch and disappear.
The man crouched down and cupped my chin with a smile. Terror gripped me like a bunny cornered by a wolf. "You're not really in any position to be making requests." He let me go and stood up. "We make for Thessaly, and then we'll see what to do with you."
I huddled near the rowers, drawing the blanket closer to me. But there was one question that nudged me incessantly.
"You haven't told me your name," I said, hoping my voice sounded stronger than I felt.
He paused, and though his back was to me, I imagined the annoyed grimace. "You haven't told me yours either."
"I'm Alexis."
Slowly, he turned to face me, the sun casting a glow around his fit form. "I'm Achilles of Phthia. And, you, Alexis of Ilios, are my prisoner. I'll allow you to roam on the boat since it's evident you can't swim, and the shore is miles away. If you misbehave or get in my men's way, I'll have you locked away below deck—" His lips quirked "—or, perhaps, let the men have their way with you."
Horrified, I stood, rooted in the same spot watching as he disappeared among his men. Men who looked at me with renewed interest and hunger. Any awe I might have felt upon learning his name was doused by utter fear. I had just met, arguably, the strongest hero in all of Greek mythology.
I was so screwed.