“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anger swelled up over her embarrassment, and she glared up at him.
“It’s just that I figured you had some experience, but—”
“But now I’m too complicated,” she huffed, “Too tough to help, I guess.”
Nikeros stopped pacing and glanced at her, eyebrows raised. The last rays of the sun were falling across his face and casting shadows in the hollows of his cheeks. He turned to her fully, his face softening, the amusement in it running away. She shivered at a wind sweeping between the two, but it was too warm and balmy to have really been the wind.
“Of course not.” His voice was throaty, but clear. “I’m here to help you, and I’m going to do exactly that.”
Korinna’s heart suddenly started slamming against her chest. “Okay then,” she urged herself to say quietly so he had to lean in, “Help me.”
Nikeros bent his face toward hers, and she tilted up her own. Her eyelids fluttered down, and she leaned forward, her heart about to burst. And then, nothing happened.
Korinna popped her eyes open, but the demigod was gone. He wasn’t fleeing up the beach, nor was he even a dot flying off into the sky, he’d simply vanished. And there she stood, alone on the shore, lips puckered like a fool.
“Hello, Nikeros.”
The girl jumped at the sudden feminine voice at her side. There stood a woman, lithe and tall, with black hair that fell heavy and straight all around her face, her skin almost blue in the darkness setting in around them, eyes black like coal. She knelt down beside Korinna and spoke to a crab that had not been there moments before, “You think I can’t recognize you like that?”
It snapped a claw at her, backed up, and then the crab became a man again who was as red in the face as his shell had been. “What are you doing here?” The coldness in his voice took Korinna aback.
“I think the better question is what are you doing here?” When she spoke it was like a song, light and lilted, and she moved gracefully even when she simply shifted her weight from one hip to the other.
“Working,” he said simply and waited.
She sucked her teeth then grinned. “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I’m here for what’s going to be the party of the century, probably. I mean, all the immortals are buzzing about it. They’re even saying we might see the Big Three in action.”
Nikeros made a patronizing face. “You think Hades is going to show up?”
“No, not really,” she laughed throatily then glanced at Korinna, “But Gaia’s full of surprises.”
“Oh, uh, Korinna,”—Nikeros awkwardly gestured to the two of them—“This is Rhodea. Rhodea, my current charge, Korinna of Zafolas, artist and historic chronicler to Prince Calix of Theopopolis.”
“Hmm.” Rhodea looked her up and down. “Well, you’re in good hands, if my memory serves.” She reached up and grabbed a bunch of Nikeros’s hair, tugging it. He did nothing to stop her, but he stood stark still, eying her coldly. Korinna realized she had been grinding her teeth when another woman with black as night hair and pale skin came up to them. There were others around them now, maybe dozens, and they seemed to be materializing from the ocean itself, walking out of the waves as they crashed on the shore, their figures sparkling blue under the newly risen moon.
“Who are your friends, Rho?” The other woman sidled up to Rhodea and hung off her shoulder. “Oh! Is that one a mortal?”
Korinna felt particularly odd then as she looked into the stranger’s eyes. They were large, too large, and a liquid black that beckoned her closer. Her voice had been so sweet and calming, she thought she’d like to keep listening to it. Maybe forever.
“We have work to do,” Nikeros’s voice cut in suddenly, and he grabbed Korinna’s wrist, breaking her of her trance. Pulling her away from them, she looked back, and the woman gave her a wave, calling out that they would see them later.
When they’d tromped far enough away, Korinna found her voice, her tongue sitting strangely in her mouth, “Who, uh, what were they?”
“Oceanids,” he told her through grit teeth.
“And how do you know Rhodea?”
“Uh,”—he stopped short, letting her go—“The academy.”
“There are Oceanids at the love academy?”
“It’s not a—” he sighed and shook his head, “It’s a place for all demigods when they come of age, to harness their abilities. We were there at the same time a couple years ago. That’s all.”
Korinna clicked her tongue. “So you’re friends?”
“No.” He started off again. “Not anymore.”
CHAPTER XXI
Korinna had a lot of questions, but Nikeros wasn’t willing to answer any of them. In fact, she was fairly certain he was pretending to be asleep the moment they got back to the cabin they shared on the boat. After she finally gave up hissing his name into the darkness, she reached into the convenient pocket of her chiton and took out the sketch she’d done of Phille and Leon earlier that day. It was only in its infancy, but somehow she knew it would be her best work ever.
Slipping it back into her pocket, she stared up at the small window at the top of the room. The moonlight that shined down through it reminded her of all those times she lay up in the loft of the pottery barn (you know the one) staring at the light, how it lit up random pots in the shop, how it distracted her as she tried to sleep, how it was little more than an annoyance. But now, it looked different even as it bobbed in and out of view with the rocking of the ship. Now it didn’t bother her so much. Now, it was actually kind of pretty.
The next day felt like returning to work, but Korinna did so with a smile. She followed Prince Calix around, a favored jewel in the crown that was his retinue, and behind her was always Nikeros, carrying something or other. It occurred to her that Calix had never even asked his name, and that particularly bothered her, but not as much as when she again saw Andreas.
Before the behemoth of a man could notice her and cause carnage once again, Korinna ducked behind a large shrubbery, sinking down between the ferns. She’d been quick, too quick perhaps, and even Nikeros looked to have lost where she’d gone, but from her spot between the plants, she could make out Andreas’s hulking form coming up to Calix, and as the men greeted one another, she knew she couldn’t risk letting anyone know where she was hidden.
Korinna backed herself deeper into the foliage until she could no longer see or even hear the bustle of the summit stages. The place had been set up like a little village, but it was ringed with the wild, thick plants of the island, and Korinna found herself concealed within them easily. She let out a long breath and turned to the unkempt jungle. Maybe I could just live out here, she thought for a passing minute until she remembered that the gods were omniscient and would find her eventually.
What Korinna didn’t know was that the gods were not, in fact, omniscient, they were just really, really lucky, but it behooved them to keep the mortals thinking otherwise.
This didn’t stop her from exploring deeper in, letting her feet take her where they would until she reached a small body of water. It was as good a place as any, she thought without really thinking about what that probably meant, and dropped down beside the pond. Tucking her knees beneath her and leaning out over the still, crystal blue, she saw the reflection of a wryneck (you know, the jinx bird) zipping over her head and smiled contentedly at finally having a bit of privacy.
The water looked back. Then it blinked. Then, when Korinna gasped, it laughed.
Rhodea’s form rose up from the pool. The water dripped off her form leaving her pale skin completely dry, and she smiled toothily at the girl. “Well, well, my friend, Korinna,”—she circled her—“Finally come to see me, eh?”
“Uh, no?” Korinna didn’t know what she meant; she hadn’t sought her out, and they definitely weren’t friends.
“Oceanids travel through the waters.” She kicked at the pool then sat uncomfortably close to her. “As if you didn’t know that.”
>
Korinna squinted. It made sense, but didn’t that mean any of the Oceanids could have been there?
“So where’s your beau?” Korinna felt embarrassed at the question, but before she could deny that Nikeros was her boyfriend, the Oceanid went on, “Has Nikeros shot him yet, or are you still waiting for him to show up?”
Glad she hadn’t said anything, Korinna was still unsure how to answer. “Oh, well, maybe both? I don’t know, it’s kinda complicated.”
“Oh, yeah, well, what isn’t, right?” She picked at her cuticles with a laugh.
“Right.” Even though Rhodea was a little monstrous looking, she was still impossibly pretty with her blue-hued skin and large eyes. Korinna bit her lip. “Like you and Nikeros. I bet that’s complicated too.”
“Well, you would be wrong.” Rhodea dropped her arm over her knee and stuck out her tongue. “That was over a long time ago. It was fine while it lasted, but he’s just such a nice guy. Too nice.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Oh, no, trust me, it definitely is. He lets himself get screwed over constantly. It’s kind of ridiculous. I mean, did you know this whole shebang was his idea?” Rhodea read the confusion on her face. “This,”—she gestured to the jungle at large—“I mean, Prince Leon is his brother after all, he knows him best.”
Korinna frowned. “Wait, you mean it was Niko’s idea to bring together the prince and princess?”
“I suppose you wouldn’t know being mortal,”—Rhodea said the word with a mix of vile and excitement—“but the Olympians have been really annoyed with the fighting between Theopopolis and Dorinth. It’s just, like, a lot of extra work for them, and I guess it was fun for a while, but it got old, so they tasked pretty much everyone to fix it years ago. No one really did, but Nikeros was talking about how it could be solved way back at the academy. I mean, Anteros says it was his idea, but the whole thing reeks of Nik.”
Korinna thought back to when she’d uncomfortably met Nikeros’s brothers. They’d seemed to be in agreement about pitying her. “Anteros said Niko messes things up a lot.”
“Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?” Rhodea laughed, “I mean, I don’t exactly doubt that Nikeros isn’t the best Erote, he is half mortal after all—no offense—but this? Even I have to give him credit for this.”
Korinna pondered the Oceanid’s guess, staring down into the pond before them.
“Nik certainly wasn’t the worst boyfriend though. He wasn’t even my worst Erote boyfriend,” she laughed sharply then sighed, “It’s actually nice seeing him again.”
“Oh?” Korinna felt her hackles raise.
“Yeah, I forgot how cute he is, and—” Rhodea turned her considerable, dark eyes onto her. “What?”
Korinna could feel the annoyance on her own face then and tried to wipe it away. “What, what?”
The woman’s lip turned up at the corner. “You don’t…you don’t like him, do you?”
Korinna cycled through shock, fear, amusement, excitement, and even constipation before landing on a thoroughly unconvincing hysterical. “Me? No! Of course not!”
“No.” Rhodea’s gruff laugher was particularly aggravating. “You wouldn’t dare, would you? Mortals and demigods, they just don’t work out, and Nik would never compromise his profession anyway.”
Korinna forced a laugh to match the woman’s, too loud she thought, but she couldn’t reign it back in. Discomfort crawling all over her, she looked back to the water for any way to change the subject, but another feminine voice broke her thoughts, this one harsh and arresting. “Korinna, come here this instant!”
She sounded just like Alanis, and Korinna instinctively jumped up. A servant girl stood at the edge of the brush, though she didn’t exactly look like a servant. See, Korinna knew servants, she was one after all, but this one stood more haughtily, and pointed a finger at her with a deep frown. And there were of course her eyes—Korinna had seen those before. “Oh, hey, Hera.”
“H-Hera?” Rhodea coughed from behind. She was aghast, but the goddess in human form just smirked back at them.
“Shouldn’t you be canoodling with Calix by now?”
Korinna winced. “Well, there was a little complication. I just saw Andreas, and I had to hide, and—”
“Andreas? You mean Athena’s suitor? Here?” The woman looked like she might explode. “Well, we’ll see about that.” She grabbed Korinna roughly about the arm and pulled her from the protection of the forest.
When they made it back to the cramped cabin on the ship, Hera shut the two inside, and when she turned, she had changed. No longer was Korinna staring at a small servant girl, but a tall, black-haired goddess with glowing golden skin and eyes that could kill with a blink. The goddess looked her over with an upturned lip. “You’re a mess, and we barely have any time before you’re to meet Calix.” It was a look the gods wore fairly frequently, but Korinna didn’t know that. Instead she stood under the goddess’s gaze wondering how on Gaia she could possibly please her. Then Hera threw up her long arms, bangles tinkling together, and pursed full lips. “By the power of me, we will fix this.”
In quick succession Korinna’s chiton changed, short to long, white to blue, metal adornments to leather. Hera’s dark eyes lit up with each snap of her fingers, and Korinna’s body felt like it was on fire. One snap constructed an emerald and amethyst chiton so long she’d need someone to carry the train around all night, but it was immediately ruled out when Korinna took her first step in the thing and landed flat on her face. With a roll of heavily-lashed eyes, Hera snapped Korinna into a short, pink tunic with a neckline that plunged to her bellybutton. Again, Hera shook her head, commenting that she didn’t really fill the dress out enough to make it work. Finally, the goddess snapped her into her definitive pick, a gentle lilac chiton, her legs free to move through a generous slit up the side.
Hera gave her a good look up and down. “You should manage to stay upright in that. Well, hopefully not all night.”
Before Korinna could even register the goddess’s remark, she had been spun around and had a comb being tugged through the tangles in her hair. She knew better than to protest at the pain in her scalp, and distractedly pawed at the material of her gown. There, just at her hip, she found another pocket, and even more surprisingly, the parchment of Leon and Phille.
Soon enough the comb was moving smoothly over her hair, and Hera’s fingers were dancing through the strands as she began plaiting. “Now, tell me, how do you like him?”
“Oh, I think he’s great, I—” Korinna had answered quickly, lulled into a daze by the goddess’s hands, then stopped herself. Who was she talking about exactly?
“Prince Calix is a wonderful catch. Better than that Koalemos-follower Andreas or that whiny bard.”
“Who?”
“In fact,” Hera went on with a sigh, “I think you’d make a really great princess too.”
Korinna hadn’t considered marrying Calix meant her own royal status. “Princess?”
“You seem smart enough to wrangle a whole hoard of children and some other wives to boot. Plus, the rules should come quickly and easily to you. You’re quite good at playing this part as is. I’ve been watching.”
Korinna murmured a concerned sound. Continuing a role wasn’t at all what she was looking for, nor was wrangling children or wives. “Hera,” she tried hesitantly, “What if Calix isn’t right for me?”
“What do you mean?” The goddess’s fingers tugged on the plait. “Prince Calix is amazing. He is a devoted follower of mine, and you could do a Tartarus of a lot worse.”
“I know, I know,” she hurried to say as she winced at how tight the next braid was, “It’s not him, it’s me. I mean, what if I’m just not…suited for him?”
“You’re pretty enough, if a little skinny, and you seem to have charmed him.”
Korinna sat silently while the goddess rearranged the rest of her hair, then tried one last time, “Once you and all the other gods are go
ne, and once the arrows wear off, and once,”—she felt her voice hitch in her throat—“Once Nikeros is gone too…then what?”
Hera clicked her tongue against her teeth, and spun Korinna back toward her. “Your looks won’t fade that fast, my dear. And anyway, you’re tough, whether you realize it or not. You’ll be fine.” Korinna tried to smile back at her, then the goddess’s face faltered as well. Strange, Korinna thought, to see a god like this, pretending to not have the answer. Of course, Korinna didn’t know it was no farce. Hera pursed her lips once more and tucked a few hairs behind Korinna’s ear. She produced a hairpin from the air and clipped back a few of Korinna’s loose strands that insisted on coming free, then mustered up a smile. “No matter what choice you make, it will be the right one.”
With a bang, the door to the cabin flew open. Light streamed in from the hall and Nikeros’s voice boomed into the chamber, “There you are!”
Korinna turned to see him, a hand over his face as he slumped against the door. “Oh, gods, Niko, I’m sorry, I got—”
“You didn’t run off!” he mumbled from behind his hand, “I thought you decided to leave, and you were just gone, and I’d never see you again, and,”—his voice caught, his eyes flicking from her to Hera, then he cleared his throat—“And, I mean, if you were gone, I’d be totally screwed…”
Korinna huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, so sorry, but you aren’t.”
Nikeros pushed himself back up, and she expected some sort of encouraging quip, but instead the demigod stayed silent. His eyes trailed her until they reached the floor, then shot back up to her face.
“Well?”
Nikeros coughed and awkwardly turned away. “Well. Right. We. Go. Party. Now.”
Korinna glanced at Hera for help. But that’s not really what gods do.
The goddess sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “Oh, boy.” There was that uncertain look again, and Korinna wondered why on Gaia the gods insisted on playing with mortals like this.
The Korinniad Page 12