Page 81 of A Girl and HER Prince
He prayed theycoulddo that as the wind that had been such a blessing earlier turned into their worst enemy. The waves hit against the boat in a punishing spray of water.
His hand went to hers. “Ready?” He tensed, barely feeling his aching wounds as he got ready to do the impossible. “Let’s go.”
They jumped into the sea. The cold, briny water rushed over his body, the salt biting into his every gash and lesion. He cried out, seconds before the waves washed over his face. He bobbed through the waters, holding tightly to the board, fighting to keep his head out. Livvy drifted from him. She’d already lost her board.
“Livvy!” he shouted out to her. He summoned every bit of energy and strength he had to get to her in the water. He pushed against the waves to reach her. “Swim this way!”
She wasn’t answering. Did she hit her head? Her lip was bloody. Fear sparked through him. Her eyes found his. She was conscious. At least that. His hand found her back and he pushed her onto the board that he’d ripped from the seats. They could both hold onto that—and then he’d have a hold on her… as long as the waves didn’t try to rip her from his grip.
It was hard not to think of the sea as a living, breathing, wrathful thing. He struggled against its fierce currents to keep the creature from winning.Stay back Poseidon! You cannot have her!
They fought through the waves to reach the comparable stillness that lay beyond the breakers. Neither of them said a thing, only swam, expending all their energy to reach the target just beyond their grasp.
Behind them the galley went down, as many ships had throughout the centuries. Who knew how many ships it joined down below? A cheap and vain replica of the real thing. Years from now people would come here and think that it was just as ancient as the trireme they’d found in the caverns.
They were almost to the breaker. Livvy was gasping for air beside him. He wasn’t sure how he was doing it either. His injuries were numb, and who knew what damage he was further inflicting on himself, but only one thought rang through him: survival.
All the dangers, all their cares dimmed into the background… until they reached the breaker and pushed through to the virtual stillness of those waters.
In theory, it was easier to swim to shore from here, but after that terrifying struggle through the waves, he was exhausted. He’d thought he’d lose Livvy in that. It was a miracle he hadn’t.
He held to her now, sandwiching her between him and the board they’d been using to help them stay afloat. Her legs kicked past his as they moved through the silver water glistening in shades of orange and pink under the dying sun.
The last of the light was leaving them as they dragged themselves back onto the shore.
He collapsed over her on the warm sands, touching the two things that meant most to him at the moment—land and her.
They were back… as if they hadn’t spent the whole day trying to escape this wretched place. His disappointment ate at him, and yet, she was alive. He ran his hands over her to make sure she still was. He was too tired to speak, too disappointed that they were back here.
She reached up for him and hugged him tightly, and though it provided some comfort, it only reminded him that he’d failed her.
Her hands went to his stomach. “It’s bleeding again—you must’ve ripped open the wound more… we should find some thread. I can stitch it… maybe.”
He groaned and caught her hands. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t. He was burning up and his whole body ached, but what could he do? At least the deepest stab wound on his forearm hadn’t gotten worse, and… that was reaching for something positive in all this, wasn’t it? The galley ship had been a nasty disappointment considering how glorious it had looked for exactly thirty minutes, if that. He startled himself by laughing. “I wonder how many years it took my uncle to make that stupid warship?”
Livvy watched him worriedly.
He was seriously out of it by now, even he could admit that, and yet his bitterness fueled his dark amusement. How dare his uncle have all these luxuries after what he’d done to his family?
Was there no justice in this life?
Venice rolled over on his back and tugged out the dripping papers from the pocket of his windbreaker, trying to see it in the last of this glittering light. There were no words to read. They’d melted from the soggy paper that fell apart in his hands.
The evidence that could’ve taken down Atreus Mnon was destroyed.
Venice let out a shout of rage and tossed the whole ledger into the grass ahead of them. He punched his fist into the sand. “He took everything! Everything from me!”
He felt Livvy’s hand against his back and he hissed out in pain and wrenched away. He didn’t want softness right now; he wanted revenge. He wanted Atreus Mnon to hurt like he did.
How could his uncle so cold-bloodedly turn on his family like this? When did it start? Achilles’s anger had burned with Venice’s—that kind of resentment was where it all began.
Venice was on the same path. He’d let his father down. He’d done it over and over, and when he’d been called to step up? Venice had laughed when Achilles had thrown his phone into the sea. None of this would’ve happened if he’d just listened to his father—so much pain, so much horror—and Venice had wanted to run away from it all and pretend no one else’s life mattered but his own.
A snort made him lift his chin. The donkeys had found them. Steve lowered his head to Livvy, who struggled to her knees so she could hug the strength of her new pet’s neck.
Venice’s heart fell at the wholesome sight. It was his fault that Livvy was here. His helplessness and shame consumed him. His father had told him to look for a wife who could be queen, a woman from the ruling class who was rich and powerful, and protected by her people. And now Venice could see exactly what the demanding, stuffy old man was talking about when he said to leave the commoners alone.
