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chapter seventy. ☄︎. *. ⋆
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I WAS STILL ON FIRE when I woke up. At least, it sure felt like I was. My skin stung. My throat felt as dry as sand.
I saw blue sky and trees above me. I heard a fountain gurgling, and smelled juniper and cedar and a bunch of other sweet-scented plants. I heard waves, too, gently lapping on a rocky shore. I wondered if I was dead, but I knew better. I'd been to the Land of the Dead, and there was definitely no blue sky.
I tried to sit up. My muscles felt like they were melting.
"Stay still," a girl's voice, sweet and even, said. "You're too weak to rise."
She laid a cool cloth across my forehead. A bronze spoon hovered over me and liquid was poured into my mouth. The drink soothed my throat and left a warm chocolaty aftertaste. Nectar of the gods. Then the girl's face appeared above me.
Her eyes were an unearthly beautiful brown, almond shaped. She had deep brown, caramel-color hair braided over one shoulder. She was... sixteen? Seventeen? It was hard to tell. She had one of those faces that just seemed timeless. She began singing, and my pain dissolved. She was working magic. I could feel her music sinking into my skin, healing and repairing my burns. I'd felt this kind of magic before. It was like when Will healed me after our practice battles.
Now, I'm the daughter of the music god, so it definitely says something when I tell you I'd never heard such a beautiful voice.
I tried to speak, but my own voice came out croaky.
"Shhh, brave girl," she said. "Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso."
The next time I woke I was in a cave, but as far as caves go, I'd been in a lot worse. The ceiling glittered with different-color crystal formations—white and purple and green, like I was inside one of those cut geodes you see in souvenir shops. I was lying on a comfortable bed with feather pillows and white cotton sheets. The cave was divided into sections by white silk curtains. Against one wall stood a large loom and a harp. Against the other wall were shelves neatly stacked with jars of fruit preserves. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling: rosemary, thyme, and a bunch of other stuff I didn't know. I was no plant person.
There was a fireplace built into the cave wall, and a pot bubbling over the flames. It smelled great, like beef stew.
I sat up, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my head. I looked at my arms, sure that they would be hideously scarred, but they seemed fine. A little pinker than usual, but not bad. I was wearing a tight cotton shirt and brown drawstring pants that weren't mine. My feet were bare. In a moment of panic, I wondered what happened to my bow, but I looked to the wall by the opening of the cave and it was hanging from a hook, begging for me to take it.
