Under the Water(Fem. Percy)

Chapter 32

Cyreus holds my leg over his lap, dabbing paint onto it.

"The others need a way to identify you," he'd said earlier, and I stopped trying to dissuade him. That doesn't mean I stopped shifting or shuddering as more of the ice cold sludge covers my skin.

"I know," he mumbles. "But there's only a little bit more to go."

"Can't I just wear a bracelet or something?"

"Trust me, I'd prefer that." He dips the brush back into the jar of red. "But the marking's also to showcase that you're single."

"If you're breaking up with me, there's better ways to do it than that."

His eyes, underlined with bags, lift to meet mine. "No one knows about us, so to the public at large we aren't dating. Thus the etiquette that comes with being single at one of these things. Though," he says with a grimace, "really you are."

"I'm going to need you to explain that, because I'm ninety percent sure this is an Atlantean thing."

"Couples must have the blessing of their parents to be together. My family doesn't care. We don't have much to offer, and frankly I think my mother's just glad I don't keep myself holed away somewhere."

"And with what Dad's doing..." He'd never give his blessing for me to date a guard from outside the nobility, because he'd have to think about how that will look.

"As much as I complain about things, I'm more than content to never mention this to your father. Even if it means we're not officially a couple, it's better than risking a tragic ending."

"Life isn't a storybook, Cyreus."

He snorts. "Your father is the basis for nearly half the kings in stories, and every single story I have read where that's the case: he's never happy when a lowly guard courts his child. There's a chance my fate would be much worse than what's shown in stories.

"Short of the ones made for adults, actions and consequences are toned down, so kids know loving people isn't a bad thing, you know? And like you said, life isn't like the stories I read, but it can be so much worse." He caresses my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. "I sullied your bed. I selfishly took you somewhere you'd be in danger. I quoted erotica to you. Him reassigning me to another part of the palace would be the best outcome."

"We didn't sleep together. You dutifully followed me when I couldn't be stopped. And-- I can't come up with a defense for the erotica." I frown. "I'm illiterate? But then that implies you were reading erotica around me, or that you gave me some."

Cyreus wipes off the brush and puts the lid back on the pot of black. He picks up a smaller brush: a thin agate one with angled hippocampus-hair bristles. His eyes dip to it. Then he kisses me. It takes me by surprise, but I kiss back with vigor, pressing my hands against his legs as I lean in.

"Please don't flirt with anyone else," he whispers.

"You're assuming I can flirt."

"Percy."

I kiss him again softly. His heart pounds against my palm. Our lips move at a gentle pace, and breaking away feels wrong. Gods, how easy it would be to just stay here and not do what Dad wants. Not really, because I know I'll be dragged against my will. Week after week of being pulled after Amphitrite and picking out flowers and cloth for a masquerade I don't want to partake in was bad enough.

There should have been some chance to get away. Some last ditch effort. Maybe Dad was expecting that--after all, he basically provided the one when I was twelve--and that's why guard patrols have been heavier.