Page 62 of A Girl and HER Prince
What day is it?It had been black as night down here. They could’ve been here for a week or just for a few hours, though judging by how his body felt, it had been way too long.
What he’d do for a painkiller about now.
Every part of him ached from their forced hibernation, from his head to his tingling arm.
Yeah, no… that wasn’t supposed to be happening. That’s where he’d been stabbed. What was that gash doing now? He tugged at the bandage.
Livvy twisted around, her hand landing on his wrist. “Let me.”
Still caught in grogginess, he watched her delicate fingers unravel the bandage. That hateful darkness had also kept her from his sight, though touching her had reassured him that she was still there.
She got the bandage loose. The flesh underneath was ugly and mottled, but it had stopped bleeding. There was some bruising, a lot of swelling and redness, but the color wasn’t too unusual. And nothing was showing through the skin that shouldn’t. A relief.
He still wouldn’t rest easy until he got a professional to look at it as soon as possible. He’d grown too accustomed to his arm to lose it now.
She wrapped it up again. “As soon as we can find some clean material somewhere, we’ll replace the bandages.”
I’m not taking any more of her clothes. “Those people on the other side of this island should have something we can use,” he said. Hopefully the weather would cooperate with them now. His eyes ran over her sparse clothing, and he groaned at how wretchedly unprepared they were for going out into the world. “We’ll find warm clothing, food…”Oh yes, food!“We can take a hot bath.”
She sighed. “Sounds like heaven.”
But they’d have to walk through the depths of Hades to get there first. Looking around this cave, he could understand how those ancients had believed in such a place. Shifting the light in his hand, he pushed to his feet, feeling the agony of every movement. His legs were shaking and blackness framed his vision.
Letting out a cry, Livvy lent him her shoulder and helped to steady him. How was it that touching her already felt so natural and familiar?
He pressed his chin into her soft hair, groaning at how weak he’d become. What would happen if he needed to protect her again? He’d use his body as a shield and tell her to run if it came to that.
And she never runs.Livvy made this so hard.
They made their way through the crumbling cavern. His bare feet pressed into the rough stone. He barely noticed any of the pain after everything they’d gone through yesterday—yesterday, was it?—who knew?
As they neared the bright light shining from the grate above, he was happy to see that it was no longer raining. The sky was a mottled gray, however, and the cold wind whistling through the bars wasn’t a good sign. Taking the narrow pathway that became a staircase, they ascended upward, not knowing what to expect.
They walked out into a dismally cold world that looked like Zeus had taken a hammer to it. He whistled. “That was some storm,” he muttered.
Trees were flattened. More columns were on the ground than before… the collapsed roofs on all the ruins were beginning to make sense.
They’d had their “medicane” storm, no doubt about it. Achilles and the others had definitely left while they could. He brutally forced all thoughts of his sister and friends from his mind. No use dwelling on any of that now.
“I can’t imagine why the Greeks deserted the place,” he joked.
He heard her teeth chattering. Venice whipped around. Livvy was hopping from foot to foot. She was cold again. How could she not be? Her poor scraped legs and arms were exposed to the world, and he was the ungrateful bear responsible for it. He came up behind her, running his hands around her, joining her arms with his. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s keep moving. That’ll keep us warm until we find our Utopia.”
That was what Odysseus had thought of Scheria Island anyway, “his Utopia” until he could sail home. Would that ever become true for them? Now Venice began to wonder which parts of the story were fact or fiction as they made their way through the devastated countryside past the foundation of ancient buildings and shrines showing crumbling relics that once were modern and shiny, now turned to ruin and dust.
It was hard not to compare it to what his life had become. His mind was heavy with the suspicions of last night. What if? What if? He marched forward with his doubts like the drums of war, holding on to the woman who had put them there. The harder he tried to force out all thoughts of Achilles being that coldblooded assassin, the more he wrestled with his suspicions that he was wrong.
The assassin had been tall like Achilles, muscular and suited up for diving. Venice had paid absolutely no attention to what the duke had worn going in, but the assassin had worn a hood, the same kind his best friend liked to wear on their colder dives. The shadows of the cave had hidden most details he might normally catch, but those dark brown eyes he’d seen behind that mask? They belonged to someone from Tirreoy, most definitely… and he was relentless, like Achilles was relentless.
No! He’d never betray me like that! We’re more than friends… we’re brothers.
But what if? What if Achilles had been hardened beyond feeling after his parents’ deaths? What if his bickering with Bris revealed his true resentments? What if Achilles’s sister truly hadn’t been able to change his rebellious ways, and he’d only been waiting for the perfect opportunity to go after them?
No! He’d take Deedee being guilty over Achilles.
Did it work that way? Not really, but he’d never seen a woman scorned take it to such a level. What if she wasn’t trying to kill him anyway? Just scare him with some thug she’d found at the festival and it had somehow gotten out of hand? She could just be out-of-control Deedee taking everything too far like she always did.
What if it was someone else neither of them had considered? Turner even? His bodyguard had lived his life in Tirreoy. It was a rough upbringing. What if he’d been radicalized there by Myrdons? Sure, he was from a family of nobles, and the stories he’d told of how they’d survived the danger would curl anyone’s toes, but he hadn’t grown up with Venice. There was norealloyalty to his family, but a paycheck.
