Chapter Two
Later, Dorian finds me lying on my bed on my back, staring up at the ceiling as I mindlessly practice with my power. It appears and disappears between my fingers like a small ball of dark grey smoke, twisting and interweaving into different shapes like little black threads, constantly shifting. One second, it's an ordinary sphere; the next, it's a glittering black arrow; then the next, a big scrawling mess, like I've scribbled messily in the air with a big black pen. I frown and flick my fingers, attempting to smooth the scribble out into a less offensive shape, but if anything it just darkens in colour and continues to fluctuate spasmodically in the air like it's taunting me. Anger pulses through my veins; it's just another big fat reminder that my father was right, and that infuriates me.
"Well damn princess, I haven't seen you frown like that since I accidentally knocked your book into the fireplace. Should I prepare myself to get thrown across the room?"
The sound of his voice breaks through my concentration like a knife through butter, and the black smoke dissipates abruptly into thin air. I sigh in frustration, propping myself up on my elbows to glare at Dorian.
"Don't you ever knock?"
"No." He shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. "That's much too polite, and I have a reputation to uphold."
I don't reply, flopping back down on my bedspread with a barely audible sigh.
I hear footsteps, and seconds later Dorian's face appears right in the middle of my vision. He scrutinizes me in the most overdramatic fashion. "What's going on with you? Why are you all frowny?"
"Nothing."
"I don't believe you." He narrows his eyes at me. "What's up buttercup?"
I give him a dead look.
He tries again. "What's the deal, banana peel?"
I blink out of view to prove my point to him.
He still knows exactly where I am though, and flicks my nose so hard that I waver back into visibility. I rub my nose and scowl at him, properly offended. "What's the word, hummingbird?"
"Dorian. Stop."
"What's cookin', good lookin'?"
"What are you, a rhyming idioms encyclopedia?" I try to keep my expression neutral, but I can already feel the irrepressible laughter bubbling up inside me at his ridiculous attempts to cheer me up.
"What's shakin', bacon?"
"Stop!"
"I won't stop until you tell me what's bothering you." He retorts, his blue eyes glinting impishly. "What's the story, morning-"
"Okay, fine!" I shove my hand over his mouth, giving him a look. "I'll tell you, so long as you stop with those ridiculous idioms."
He nods, blinking contritely, and when I remove my hand, there's a triumphant smirk dancing over his lips. I roll my eyes, shuffling over so he has room to sit on my bed next to me.
"I hate you."
"No you don't. You love me." He replies cockily, puffing out his chest. He leans against the end of my four-post bed with his hands linked behind his head, wriggling his eyebrows at me. "So. Why so glum, chum?"
I sigh, grabbing one of my many assorted cushions and hugging it to my chest. I stare down at the forest green bedspread in front of me. "I had an argument with my parents."
"Really? That's news to me." He says after a moment, his hesitation cluing me into his little white lie. I roll my eyes.
"Don't lie to me Dorian, I know you've already heard."
"Okay fine, I may have heard a whisper or two from the gossiping maids." He allows, tilting his head from side to side. That news doesn't surprise me; he spends a suspiciously large amount of time with the 'gossiping maids'. "What was the argument about?"
"What do you think?" I ask bitterly.
"Ah." He nods in understanding. He studies my closed-off expression. "Do you want to talk about it, or will you blast me across the room again if I pry?"
"Not really, no."
"Okay then." He shrugs, and I smile gratefully at him. He's learnt that most of the time I don't want to talk about the altercations I have with my parents, and I'm thankful for his reservation. He never used to be that understanding, but he quickly learnt that incessantly prying would just cause me to close myself off from him and shut him out even more. "What do you want to talk about then? Because from the looks of it, you were one doodle away from maliciously murdering the air particles around you, and I'm not sure I want those innocent deaths on my conscience."
I smile slightly. "Tell me a story?"
"Okay." He nods, twisting his lips up in such a ridiculous fashion that I can't help but giggle. "What about?"
"The ocean?" I ask. His eyes light up, and I know I said the right thing. He loves telling me stories of his life up on the surface - for the most part, anyway - but there's something about the ocean that makes his expression light up like a Christmas tree. It's probably got something to do with the fact that he used to be a water nymph when he was still alive; I know he misses the ocean, and telling me his stories gives him the opportunity to re-live the 'glory days', as he affectionately dubs them.
"Good choice." He props his long legs up on my bed, crossing his ankles. "What about the ocean?"
I hum, drawing my legs up to my chest. "Tell me about your favourite beach."
"Well geez El, that's just cruel. Asking a water nymph to pick his favourite beach is like asking a caffeine addict what his favourite coffee is." He replies sardonically, and I giggle. "My favourite beach... Well, if I had to pick one, I would probably say the beach I lived at off the eastern coast of Australia."
"Australia? Where's that?"
"It's a large country just below the equator."
"Does that mean it's warm?"
He snickers. "Princess, some days it's so hot, it feels like your face is melting off."
"Is that where you got your accent?" I ask curiously, and he nods. It hadn't surpassed my attention that he sounded different to everyone else; both my parents had soft, lilting accents, but Dorian's was a direct contrast, more sharp and twangy.
"I spent the majority of my life there. Guess I preferred the hellish heat over the more mundane conditions of Greece and America." He shrugs.
I smile. "What was the beach like?"
"Less hellish." He chuckles. "Do you want the Dorian description or the Ellie description?"
I purse my lips, narrowing my eyes at him teasingly. "The Ellie description."
"Oh geez. That'll take me at least ten years then." He sighs melodramatically, and I toss a cushion at him. "Okay, okay, stop beating me up with your bed's decorations." He pauses, his gaze growing distant as he delves back into his memories and searches for the description of his favourite beach. I close my eyes and lean back against the headboard of my bed, giving my imagination free reign to construct the scenery as he details it. This is my favourite part of his stories. "It's a small beach, hidden away from civilisation, so only us nymphs really know where it is. It's shrouded by a curtain of different trees, which border onto-"
"What kind of trees?" I interrupt him, my eyes still closed.
"Eucalyptus mainly, but there's a few different other tropical-like trees."
"What do they look like?"
"El, I'm not as obsessed with the details as you are. I don't remember every ruddy tree around the beach." I peel open one eye just so he can see me glaring at him, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. "Are you going to let me finish my story?"
I hold my hands up in the air. "Floors all yours, Dori."
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? I'm not a blue fish with short-term memory loss." He grunts.
"Well, I mean, you can't even remember what kind of trees there were at your favourite beach, so..."
"Ellie! Don't make me use this." He brandishes the cushion at me like a weapon. "Do you want me to tell the bloody story or not?"
I laugh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Please continue."
"Thank you. Ungrateful child." He huffs. "The sand is a golden yellow, similar to the yellow of your lanterns but a much purer colour; I'd say it's the same colour of the sun, but then again, you don't really know what the sun looks like, so it's a measly comparison. The water was a light blue, like an ombre from cobalt blue at the very surface-"
"Like your eyes?"
"Yeah, kinda, but a little lighter. When the water got deeper though, the blue transcended to a much darker and richer blue, kind of like the colour of your dad's eyes. The water was crystal clear though, and on a sunny day you could see right down to the bottom. It was-"
Suddenly, Dorian's story is cut short by a sound that's almost unheard of in this palace; it's the sound of my parents arguing. I freeze, my eyes flying open, and I glance over at my bedroom door.
"I understand she is upset Evie, but I still stand by our decision. It is not wise to let her up there."
"Hades, come on." My mother sighs, and though she tries to keep her voice quiet, I can hear every single word she says. "This isn't fair to her."
"Ellie..." Dorian starts to speak up, a funny look on his face, but I hiss at him loudly to be quiet, waving my hand at him as I tune back into my parents conversation.
"We are only trying to protect her Evie." My father replies, in a gentle voice he only reserves for her.
"But still." My mother argues. "She has a point; what kind of future are we giving her? We wanted to give her as normal a childhood as we could, and this isn't a childhood. We've kept her here in the dark her entire life. If that's not hell, then I don't know what is."
"So what are you suggesting? That we let her go up to the top? You know we cannot do that, it is too risky."
"She can take care of herself Hades. She's not stupid."
I bolt upright with wide eyes, all thoughts of listening to Dorian's story forgotten. I resist the urge to get up and press my ear against the door and instead force myself to stay seated on my bed, listening in on my parent's conversation with bated breath. Is my mother really saying what I think she's saying?
"She's only eighteen, agápi mou."
"I was only a year older when I first came down here, Hades." My mother reminds him, and I can't help but grin slightly. Yes Mum! "There's only so much learning you can do in a year."
"Yes, but your situation was entirely different to hers."
"It wasn't as different as you think." She reminds him. "She would be going into an entirely different situation, like I did. She would be interacting with people from a completely different walk of life, like I did. The only thing different would be that she'll be experiencing normal teenage life, instead of being torn away from it."
"True as that may be, you did not have the Fates condoning your decision to come down here."
My breathing catches in my throat. What?
"Princess, you really shouldn't be hearing this." Dorian finally decides he's had enough and jumps up to stand in front of me, his loud tone interrupting me before I can listen in on anymore of my parents conversation. I hesitantly glance up at him, and do a double take when I catch the strange look on his face.
"What are you talking about Dorian? You always encourage me to eavesdrop, because you say it's the only way you can discover everyone's dirty little secrets." I frown at him. "And I'm pretty sure the reason they're not letting me up to the surface is a dirty little secret I want to discover."
"El, your parents are good people. They wouldn't keep secrets from you unless they absolutely had to." He replies sharply. "Maybe you should trust them."
I stare at him, shocked beyond words by his biting tone. He's never agreed with my parents on this, not once. He's always been extremely vocal on his oppositions to their decision. So what's going on?
Then, I catch the guilt that creeps around the corners of his expression, and the way he shifts away from me ever-so-slightly when he realises I'm scrutinizing his behaviour, and it hits me.
"They told you, didn't they?" I whisper. "You know why they won't let me go up there."
Nervousness flickers through his gaze, so minute that I almost miss it. That all but confirms my suspicion. He doesn't try to disguise the truth, though. "Yes."
Usually, I love his bluntness, but this time, now that it's aimed completely at me, it just hurts. "Why?"
"Why what? Why did they tell me, or why won't they tell you?"
"Both."
"They told me so I would understand, El. I'm not going to lie to you, their decision is completely justified." He replies, and I suck in a sharp breath, staring at him. The betrayal of his words sting, like tiny little pinpricks all over my heart. "And the reason they won't tell you is the same as the reason they're not letting you go up to the surface."
"What is it then?"
"They're trying to protect you."
"They're trying to protect me?!" I exclaim, unable to keep my voice quiet anymore. "By what, locking me up and not letting me do anything? How is that protecting me?"
"There's a lot that goes on up on the surface that you don't understand yet, Ellie." He says. "Trust me, your parents are doing you a favour by keeping you down here. Earth is a mess."
"How are they doing me a favour?" I stare at him. "What's going on with you? Just before you were practically forcing me to realise that this is barely a life, and now you're agreeing with them?"
"At least it's a life Ellie. Some of us don't have that anymore, and do you know why that is? Because the stuff that goes down on the surface is messed up."
"That doesn't count Dorian."
"Excuse you, of course it counts! It was my bloody death!"
"That still doesn't change the fact that Poseidon was psychotic."
"Trust me princess, you don't know the half of it." He scoffs. "Folks on the surface - including gods and goddesses - are obsessed with the things they want but don't have, and it messes them up. Poseidon was obsessed with power, and he did everything that he could to get it, including trying to destroy the world. You don't see that breed of psycho down here. Well, except for Kezia, but she's a special kind of mental, and I'm pretty sure she's always been like that." He adds the last sentence as an afterthought, referring to my mother's knife-loving best friend that he lovingly refers to as 'Satan's other little beastie'.
"People are always going to be like that, Dorian. It's not going to change. And if my parents don't let me up to the surface, how am I ever going to be able to learn to deal with it?"
"Simple. You don't have to deal with it."
"Of course I do! How am I supposed to help people, to do well at my role if I don't even know how to deal with people from all walks of life?"
"Don't bullshit me El, I'm not stupid. I know you're just using that as an excuse to disguise the fact that you just want to go up to the surface to curb your curiosity."
My jaw drops, and I splutter in outrage. "No Dorian, that's not it at all! What's with you? Why are you attacking me all of a sudden?"
"I'm not attacking you Ellie. I'm just saying, maybe you should cut your parents a bit of slack, because-"
"Dorian." He's cut off by my mother, and when I tear my gaze away from him, I realise with a sliver of fear that both my parents are standing in my bedroom's doorway with equally serious expressions. She gives him a look, shaking her head minutely. "That's enough."
Even though Dorian keeps his expression neutral, I can tell from the way his jaw tightens that he's mad. He glances over at me and I stare at him, my forehead furrowing in confusion.
"What is going on?" I demand, looking between Dorian and my parents. "What won't you all tell me? Why won't you let me up to the surface?"
Dorian opens his mouth to say something, but my mother makes a noise, and when I glance back over at her, she's glaring at Dorian. Shaking his head, Dorian rubs his jaw and storms from the room, cursing under his breath. I watch him go in silence, wide-eyed with shock.
What just happened?
My gaze slowly slides back over to my parents. "What is going on?" I repeat softly. "And please, please don't deny that anything is going on. Not after he practically exploded, and not after that conversation you just had."
"You heard that?" My mother asks, her expression falling.
"Of course I heard that. You had it right outside my room; how was I not supposed to hear it?" I fold my arms tightly over my chest as I get to my feet. "What aren't you telling me? What does this all have to do with the Fates? Why won't you let me go up to the surface?"
She sighs, and suddenly she looks more tired in that one moment than she has my entire life. Guilt gnaws at my stomach, but I refuse to let myself back down. Not after everything that just transpired.
My father wraps his arm around her shoulders, as if trying to reassure her. When he speaks up, his voice is quiet, and laced with tones of resignation. "When your mother was pregnant with you, we received a prophecy from the Fates."
I freeze. Wait, they're actually, finally telling me? "What?"
"They said that, should you go up to the surface, you would catalyse a civil war that would tear the supernatural world apart." My mother says quietly, looking up at me with pain glazing over her expression. I stare at her, my mouth open in horror. Though I've never personally met the Moirai, I know how important they are to the fundamental workings of the universe, and how they should never be taken lightly. My parents have always made sure I knew just how serious their prophecies are; I always thought it was because the Fates prophesied Poseidon's megalomaniac quest to release Cronus and rob my father and Zeus of their power, but now I realise that that wasn't the only reason they feared the Moirai's prophecies.
"That is the reason we do not want you to go up to the surface, Elliana." My father continues. My mother looks like she wants to say something else, but bites her tongue when he shoots her a look. It's an exchange that passes so quickly between the two of them that I know they didn't want me to see it, but I've become much too observant to miss these details anymore.
"You do know that I wouldn't do it, right?" I ask, my voice hushed. "I wouldn't ever start a civil war; why would I want to?"
"You don't need to justify yourself to us Ellie, we know you won't." My mother replies gently.
"Well then why are you worrying about it? If you know I won't carry the Fates' prophecy out, then why won't you let me up to the surface already?" I beg. "Please. I have to know what it's like; I want to feel the sun on my face, and go swimming in the ocean, and talk to people my own age. I just want to live a semi-normal life."
"Ellie, we cannot ignores the Fates' prophecy." My father says sternly. "The last time we did that, there were catastrophic repercussions."
"It doesn't have to be forever! Even just for a few days!"
"A lot can happen in a few days." He deadpans.
"And nothing can also happen in a few days!" I insist, glancing over at my mother. She's biting her lip, a telltale sign that she's torn, that she's seriously contemplating my argument. "I can look after myself. And experiencing what life is like on the surface could help me with my role, to connect with the voices easier."
"She has a point, babe." My mother speaks up, and both my father and I do a double take at the same time. She stares at us both. "Woah, that was creepy."
"Evie, surely you aren't actually considering this?" He says softly, searching her eyes.
"Yes Hades, I actually am. She's only eighteen." She gives him a meaningful look, lathering heavy emphasis 'eighteen' like it's the most important word in the sentence. "And she's right; we've tried our best to give her as good a childhood as we could, but there's only so much we can do. If we let her go up there, I think she would really benefit from it. Even if it is just for a week or two."
"That does not change the fact that it is far too dangerous."
"I can look after myself, Dad." I insist. "Isn't this what you've been training me for?"
He looks over at my mother, who shrugs, raising her eyebrows at him. "She's not wrong."
"Evie..." He starts, urgent undertones leeching into his voice, but she grabs his hands, imploring him with her gaze.
"She's not a little kid anymore Hades, I know she can handle herself. Besides which, her birthday is still months away." She assures, and I frown. What does this have to do with my birthday? Does it maybe have something to do with the Fates' prophecies? "We have people up on the surface that we trust; she can stay with them. I know for a fact that Spencer-"
"Spencer?" He interrupts, staring at her incredulously. "You want to trust Spencer with Ellie?"
"Let me finish." She narrows her eyes at him. "I know for a fact that Spencer and Kenzie," - my father's shoulders relax a little when my mother mentions her best friend's wife, an action I find intrinsically amusing - "are dying to see El, and Jasmine will be around her age now. And, if you still don't trust Spencer, I know Sel and Axel are in the near vicinity too. She couldn't be any safer if she tried."
"Yes, she could."
"Hades. Stop being stubborn. We all know that's my job, not yours." She says his name gently, even though her expression is stern. "We can't shelter her forever. She's worked so hard, has been so patient; she deserves this."
He hesitates, looking like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. From his point of view, it probably was.
"Please, Dad. I'll be careful, I swear." I plead, slowly walking towards them. "I really, really want this. I have to know what it's like up there."
He sighs heavily, resignation settling over his features. I stare at him, my hands clasped before my face, barely able to breath from the suspense.
"Hades?" My mother prompts, looking as impatient with his hesitancy as I feel.
"Okay."
"Okay what?" I ask timidly, eying him cautiously.
"Okay, you can go up to the surface." He says, and I inhale sharply, my eyes widening. "But only for a month."
"Really?" I whisper, and he nods. I squeal and throw my arms around my parents, barely able to curb my excitement. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"