Page 37

Four and a half months later

Every morning for the last six weeks, I’ve gone through the same ritual. I make myself a cup of coffee and walk down to the beach on the west side of the property. It’s a spot where Ariadne and I used to play when we were young, pretending to be literal royalty and believing that all we needed to be happy was to wish hard enough.

These past months have proved that wishes aren’t worth the breath required to voice them. If I want something to change, I have to work . It’s all I’ve done for four and a half months. The battle for Aeaea won’t be over anytime soon, but I’ve made good progress from my new seat among the council.

The older members aren’t happy, but I have more than enough information about their less-than-pure habits to keep them on the straight and narrow.

I don’t know why I’m surprised that I’m good at politics. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering how I was raised.

When I got back to the island with the saved crew in tow, one of the first things I did was get a new phone. I’ve listened to my sister’s voicemail dozens of times in the intervening months, but aside from texting her to say that I’m safe and I’ll be in contact soon, I haven’t talked to her.

If I answered her calls, I’d have to tell her what happened after she sailed away. Maybe she’d understand what I feel for Poseidon, maybe she’d even support me in my foolish belief that he’ll really come for me, but…maybe she won’t.

That maybe is one too many. I’m already teetering on the edge of a sorrow so deep, I don’t know how I’ll survive it. And the promise of it only gets more harrowing with every day that passes without seeing black sails on the horizon.

That doesn’t stop me from showing up every morning and evening like clockwork. I refuse to admit that the steady whoosh of the waves reaching the shore soothes me. Or that the crisp sea air makes me alert. Or that, possibly, I would enjoy this ritual if it didn’t always end in disappointment.

I haven’t had any contact from Poseidon, but how would I? It’s not as if we exchanged phone numbers. I’ve followed the news coming out of Olympus closely, and to the best of my knowledge he survived everything that followed my leaving…but he still hasn’t come.

He could have changed his mind. No matter what promises we exchanged, I should know better than most that emotion blossoming in traumatic times isn’t trustworthy. And yet I continue to wait. To hope , the sensation so fierce that some days it feels more like agony.

So fiercely that, when I notice irregular black in the distance, I almost convince myself that it’s some fisherman bringing in the morning’s catch. Even though this ship is far outside the prime fishing waters and obviously coming from the mainland.

That doesn’t mean it’s him.

It might not be. It likely isn’t. It couldn’t possibly be…

Even as doubt yells at me to go back to the house to avoid disappointment for a little longer, to not let hope take the reins, I stand there rooted long after my coffee has gone cold and the sun is high in the sky. Long enough for my brain to finally admit that I know this ship, that it’s one I haven’t seen since I left it in a slip at a dock on the mainland. That I specifically left for one man.

I still try to deny it when the man himself appears and tosses the anchor into the shallow water. He lifts a hand to his brow and goes still. I barely have time to process that he’s seen me when he dives into the water and starts swimming to shore.

There’s no room for thought. Not when I drop my coffee mug and start running. Not when the waves hit my knees, ruining my shoes. Not when Poseidon rises out of the water like some kind of siren and I launch myself into his arms and wrap my legs around his waist.

He loses his footing and we go under, but only for a moment. I don’t care. I’m too busy clinging to him, kissing every part of his sunburned face I can reach. As he haphazardly carries me to shallower water, I finally manage the breath to speak between gasps. Only two words, over and over. “You came, you came, you came.”

We finally reach the shore and he holds me to him tighter. “I’m sorry it took so long,” he gasps. “I wanted to be here sooner.”

“I don’t care. You came .” I kiss him properly, putting four months’ worth of fear and hope and need and love into it.

His knees buckle. We hit the sand and then I’m on my back, his big body pressing me down in a way I never want to stop. I never have to stop because he’s here. He came.

Poseidon eases up just enough to look down at me. “You waited.”

“I would have waited forever.” I can’t quite catch my breath. “I love you.”

“Still?”

“Always.”

His grin is like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. It warms me right through. “I have a present for you.”

“Your being here is present enough.”

He laughs, sounding more at ease than I’ve ever heard him, and moves to the side, pulling me up into his lap. “No, this is a real present. It’s back on the sailboat, but I have plane tickets.”

I blink. “Plane tickets?”

“Yeah.” He keeps touching me like he can’t quite believe I’m here. “To Rio. I’m cutting it a little close but…”

Carnaval.

Where Ariadne will be waiting for me. I hadn’t forgotten, exactly, but I’d been putting off buying my own ticket, the thought of so many days away from Aeaea and this beach almost more than I could bear. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.” He kisses my forehead. “I love you, too. So much.”

“Poseidon—”

“Proteus.”

I frown. “What?”

“I’m not Poseidon anymore. I never will be again.” He takes a slow breath and despite the fact that he looks tired, he seems…unburdened. He smiles. “My name is Proteus. Or it was before I took the title, and now it is again.”

We have so much to talk about, and yet there’s only one question that matters. “Are you staying?”

“Yes.” He nods seriously. “As long as you’ll have me.”

I find myself laughing, the sound of hope winning over despair. “Be careful what you say, big guy. If I have my way, you’ll be mine forever.”

“Then I’ll be yours forever, and happily.” He makes a face. “As much as I want to sit here until we’re caught up, I’m wet and covered in sand and I’m not going to be able to focus on a single thing until that’s fixed.”

“Of course.” I scramble to my feet and take his hand after he does the same. “Let’s go home.”

“Home.” He says the word as if weighing it. “I like that. I want to have a home with you, Icarus. Not just somewhere we rest our heads. A true home.”

I’m already tugging him toward the winding path leading up to the house. We’ll have to deal with the ship at some point, but it will be safe enough for now. “I’ve made some changes to the house since I got back.” I’m blushing and smiling like a fool and I can’t seem to stop. “You’re welcome to change anything that doesn’t work, but I had you in mind when I redecorated.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect.” Poseidon—Proteus—keeps pace with me easily. He’s smiling, too. “I can’t wait to see your—our—home.”

Our home. His. Mine. Ours. A place where we can play out a future. Together.

And not even Olympus can get in our way.