Page 71 of A Spell of Bones and Madness
Something was wrong. Dimitris couldn’t quite place what it was at first, only that the air aboard theAphroditeshifted from its usual briney and burnt wood smell to something raw and pungent—a scent he usually only encountered around spoiled meat. It wasa brief change most would not have noticed, and especially not woken from a deep slumber because of, but for him, it was all consuming.
Shooting up from his bed, Dimitris flung on some cotton trousers, snatching his sword from a holder along the wall.
The ship was silent, save for the light padding of his footsteps creaking along the smooth wooden floor. In his haste to figure out where that scent was coming from, he’d forgotten to toss on his boots. It was fine, he was used to being barefoot, unafraid of the splinters that might prick him or a rusty old raised nail in the deck above. He would heal. He always did.
Quickly, he prowled down the corridor, careful not to wake the crew that slept along the sides of the ship in their hammocks, snores deep and bellies full. TheAphroditewas smaller than his brother’s ship,The Nostos, though Dimitris preferred it. She still cut through the water at speeds not seen among any other ship in the Mykandrian and allowed for a smaller crew with only three sails to tend instead of five.
And most importantly, she was his—not passed down through the generations, spelled by protection magic. He had built this ship with his hands, helping the shipwrights as they crafted the beauty Dimitris now sailed. If she smashed against rocks or took fire from catapults she would not heal herself—no, only those skilled craftsmen could fix her. It pained him to think the ship would soon go to war, the possibility that theAphroditemay sink before his eyes. Maybe that was why the smell of carrion wafting in his nostrils with each breath had him shuddering.
Silvery light illuminated the deck of the ship, reflecting off the water below. It was an eerie sort of glow, paralleling the deadlyscent he followed. Dimitris strode about the starboard side of the deck, discerning what the crew may have left out—an old piece of beef for one of the dogs? A fish carcass they forgot to throw overboard?
“You do realize it is almost winter, do you not?” a light voice called from the port side of the ship, startling him. Turning, Dimitris met the gaze of the young seer as she raked her eyes down his body and then up once more.
“Yes. And your point is?”
“That you are shirtless on the deck of the ship despite it being cold enough to see your own breath.” Thalia arched one of her jet black brows and Dimitris couldn’t help but wish she sounded a little less disgusted when referencing—in his opinion—a very toned and desirable body. At least, that is what most women in Nexos told him.
“I run hot,” he deadpanned, striding over to the rail of the ship Thalia leaned against. He ran his hand over the white fur cloak covering her shoulders, before tucking a piece of her equally colorless hair behind her ear. “Clearly, you do not. I’d gladly aid you with that predicament.”
Thalia snorted, swatting his hand away. “My cloak works just fine. Do not take my earlier gratitude toward what you did for me in Aidesian as anything more than that, Prince. I am here because Alexander asked it of me.”
“I am well aware of why you are here, seer. Although, why are youherenow? It is almost midnight, shouldn’t you be in your quarters sleeping with that creature of yours?”
They had anchored in a cove of an isle near Nexos, so small it was not marked on any chart ofthe Mykandrian Sea. Only two members remained on deck during the night to keep watch in case a merchant ship or pirates from Anatole managed to break through the wards his father wove around the isle. Thalia certainly was not flagged as a lookout.
“The air has changed,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she clutched the rail of the ship, her white knuckles contrasting against the mahogany of the wood.
“You noticed it too?” Of course she had, thatdaimonof hers probably picked up on it before even he had.
“It is not just that.” Thalia stared out at the sea, where the waves had turned calm, pulsing outward from the shore, matching the vibrations of a beat drum. She turned back to face him, eyes no longer their lavender hue, but a pure blueish-white of the moon above. Static filled the air and thunder rolled above their heads, three strikes of lightning landing on the isle before them. Thalia opened her mouth, though it was not her voice that spoke the next words, but one older, deeper, deadlier. “He has risen.”
With a bang, Thalia hit the deck of the ship, unconscious, but still breathing. This could not be happening. If whatever voice that spoke through the seer was correct, his brother and Katrin had failed. Hades had returned and it would be even more imperative that they reached Skiatha with haste to warn the soldiers and beg them to fight for the safety of the isles in the Mykandrian Sea.
Dimitris dropped to his knees. “Thalia! Wake up, Thalia!” Sliding one hand under her back, he pulled her in close to his chest, using his other hand to stroke her skin. Nothing—she did not stir, not even a flutter of her lashes. Usually deep red lips morphed into a gray-blue and her breathing slowed. Her skin was like a bite of ice beneath his fingertips, she needed to get inside.
“Looks as if I’ll be carrying you to safety a second time, Seer.” He whispered into her ear, picking her up. All four of her limbs drooped lifelessly in Dimitris’s arms.
Quickly, Dimitris carried her below deck, heading straight for Thalia’s quarters. He burst through the door, rushing her over to the raging fire in the hearth, grateful for the protection spells that allowed the flame to remain lit aboard the ship—the only bit of magic he allowed on theAphrodite. Wrapping Thalia in a woolen blanket, Dmitris clutched her close to his shirtless chest, rubbing his hand up and down her back, willing the color back into her face. A loud growl sounded from behind him and Mykonos slinked up beside her human in mountain lion form, baring her sharp teeth at Dimitris.
“Sit,” he growled back at the creature and Mykonos retreated a step, shifting back into the small cat and sitting back on her haunches.
“Curious…”Fuck.He forgot Dafne also resided in this room.
“What is curious?” Continuing to clutch the seer close to his body, Dimitris turned his head over his shoulder.
Dafne sat at the end of the bed, a thick robe tied tight around her, that ferocious panther lying beside her on the covers. Her jet black brows were furrowed in and her long fingers tapped against her lip. “One’spsychídoes not usually take commands from another, especially from one of your kind.”
“Well maybe Mykonos realized I am trying to save her human. For the second time, at that.” He turned his gaze back to Thalia, continuing to rock her. Why was she not warming?
Dafne had moved without a sound beside him, kneeling and placing her hand on Thalia’s head. It was unnerving how stealththe two seers were, sneaking into places they did not belong, appearing out of seemingly nowhere.
“She is not dying, Prince. Merely recovering. You may let go of her now.”
Like fuck he would. She needed heat and the raging flames were not enough. Her death would not be on his hands—his brother had warned him what would happen if Dimitris could not protect her a second time. “Excuse me?”
“It’s the tonic Cal crafted for her. It allows her to recover quickly, but if the pain is beyond what she can handle it will cause her to sink into a dreamless sleep,” Dafne said in a nonchalant tone.
Cal trusted Dafne more than him with this secret? Dimitris was going to kill his uncle for not telling him what that potion did—prepare him for this. “This is not dreamless, Dafne, she is frozen to my touch, barely breathing.”
