“Don’t move. I’ve got you.”
A set of hands landed on my arms. They didn’t actually touch my skin, only the towel that was suddenly being wrapped around me. Orion Maris was on the platform beside me, already kneeling, already working. He lifted my head and slid a folded cloth beneath it, giving me something to rest against that wasn’t the wet wood.
“Breathe,” he said. “Slowly. You swallowed a lot of water.”
I coughed again, hard enough that my ribs ached. Salt water came up in a thin, burning stream. Orion turned me onto my side so I wouldn’t choke on it. One hand braced my shoulder through the towel, while the other keeping my hair clear of my face. His movements were quick and certain, displaying the practiced efficiency of someone who had pulled people from the water before.
“That storm.” My breathing was steadying, but my voice sounded like I’d swallowed gravel. “That was you. You used the Strait’s power to attack the plane.” I didn’t blame him for it, not really, but a part of me was curious about what he had to say.
He didn’t flinch. “I used it to create an opportunity. What you did with it was your choice.”
My choice. It was exactly as I’d thought, then. This man, at least, had allowed me to decide for myself. But it had still been dangerous.
“You could have killed everyone on that aircraft.”
“No.” He met my eyes, and there was no evasion in them. “I could feel Stormwright fighting me through the fuselage. He’s powerful enough to keep a plane in the air against a Poseidon storm. I was counting on it.”
“You were counting on Alexander protecting the plane while you stole me.”
“I was counting on Alexander protecting the plane while you freed yourself.” He said it without heat, as a correction rather than an argument. “There is a difference, Andromeda.”
My teeth were chattering badly enough to make speaking difficult. Orion noticed immediately. He shrugged off his own shirt and laid it over me on top of the towel, adding another layer of warmth without touching my skin.
“I need to get you inside. Can I carry you?”
I nodded. I didn’t trust my legs to hold me, and we both knew it.
He gathered me up through the layers of towel and shirt, one arm beneath my knees and the other behind my back. The cotton barrier between his body and mine held. His skin was warm where my cheek rested near his shoulder, and his scent surrounded me. It carried none of the sharp electrical charge that accompanied Alexander’s proximity.
Orion climbed the ladder one-handed and carried me across the deck. Tonight, the floating palace I remembered from the night everything had started felt almost… barren. There were no crowds, no music. Just clean lines and dark wood and the smell of the open sea.
“Why?” I asked. “Why do you care? You don’t know me. You have no obligation to House Hera or to whatever mess I’ve dragged into your waters.”
He carried me through a hatch and into a corridor paneled in dark teak. The warmth of the interior hit my frozen skin, and the shivering worsened before it began to ease.
“How could I not?” he asked simply. “You’re special, Andromeda. I knew it that night on theOdyssey, and I grew more certain of it on Samos.”
“I’m cursed.” The word tasted bitter and familiar. “Not special. The curse isn’t gone just because Alexander is far away.”
“Perhaps not.” He turned sideways to fit through a narrow doorway. “But here, the power of Poseidon will be your refuge. It blocks Hera’s Gaze. The Strait is the oldest ward in the Mediterranean, older than the Heraion, older than Samos. It will protect you.”
I stared at him. The shivering was making it hard to think, but the words cut through the fog with a clarity that made my chest ache. “You’re telling me the curse can’t touch me here?”
“I’m telling you that in the Strait of Messina, you are beyond its reach.” He met my eyes, and there was no bravado in them, no Alpha posturing. Just a steady, quiet certainty. “For as long as you choose to stay.”
Could it be true? Could it possibly be that simple, after everything? I wanted to believe it so badly that the wanting itself frightened me. Hope had been my cruelest companion for some time now, the thing that kept cutting me open every time I reached for it.
I thought about Alexander, about the way he held me, the way he felt inside me. A pang of longing erupted within me. But… Was the anger less fierce? I couldn’t tell.
Orion carried me through the warm corridor toward a cabin at the end of the passage. Inside, I was greeted with the sight of a wide bed dressed in white linen. A small writing desk was on the other side of the room.
Orion set me down on the mattress. The moment my weight was settled, he released me and stepped back. He pulled a wool blanket from a shelf above the bed and laid it over the towel.
“I’m going to send down my ship’s medic,” he said. “She’ll check your lungs and make sure you didn’t inhale too much water. She’s House Hestia–trained. Not the real thing, but she’s competent.”
“My mother was on the plane,” I said. “Helena. She’ll be—”
“I expect she’s landed in Sicily by now. Stormwright will have brought the aircraft down after the storm passed.” His tone was neutral, offering information rather than reassurance. “She knows you’re alive. The Strait doesn’t keep secrets from the people who live on its shores.”