Page 38 of Edge of Stars

But is that enough?

Miraculously, I’m still wearing my own veil—and I can see right through the thing.

Is that why he has to haul us nearly seven miles below sea level?

I try to suck down air. Halfway down, it tangles with a clog of nervous fear.

“Errrnnnh,” I groan more than speak. “Sometimes the algae isn’t always softer…”

“Mrs. Kane.” Poseidon’s interjection is firm but paternal, a gentle reprimand. “You’re going to be fine. You and that special little one.”

Proteus nods as if he’s tapped into the same mind-reading app as his liege. With his brusque version of the Team Uncle vibes, he murmurs, “We’re practically clear of the trench now.”

“Wait. We…uh…are?” I choke out. With that communicative cat out of the bag, I turn around in a disbelieving three-sixty. “Wow. I didn’t expect…”

“What?” Now there’s a tease in Poseidon’s tone, and I really do wonder what thoughts he’s managed to pluck right out of me.

Though by the next second, my amazement has probably painted every last inch of my face.

And doesn’t stop there.

This isn’t the bottom of the deepest place on earth.

It’s practically the opposite.

A long lagoon, sparkling like a billion Tiffany blue diamonds have been crushed into the water, is cradled by high canyon walls of contrasting texture. The rugged rock faces are almost like protective cowboy profiles, with their sepia crags forced to make way for lush vegetation. The flowering bushes and rustic trees push out from tall gashes between the rocks, breaking up the landscape in fascinating angles.

But in the biggest gap in the rocks, something much bigger is nestled. A multi-storied villa is breathtakingly tall and almost obnoxiously white, though the colored tile mosaics defining the edges of its numerous patios are the perfect antidote to the blinding whitewash.

As we drift closer, I notice other creative touches to the place. The outdoor furniture definitely didn’t arrive after a few fast mouse clicks. The oceanic-themed craftsmanship in every piece is noticeable even from this distance. I’m able to take fast peeks at the interior too. The rooms are airy and open but elegant and stylish, with overstuffed sofas and chairs lit by wrought-iron sconces next to paintings from every major artistic era. If Arden were here, his shoes would already be soaked in drool. Kell would be giving him snide hell for it. Jaden would be tossing an eye roll at her for that. And Mother and Gramps—

Mother. Gramps.

Kell.

Jaden.

My stomach clenches again, but this time in anguish. And guilt. So much survivor’s guilt, appalling and suffocating. My eyes behold the lush haven around us, all but ordering me to embrace gratitude for it, but inside, I’m back at the front of our wedding sanctuary, having to accept that Hecate might turn it into a sacrificial altar.

Or…already has.

I’m absolved from having to imagine that in full as Poseidon sweeps his hand wide, activating a new opening in the side of the bubble. A small flume of water stretches over the dock that looks perfect for a romantic music video shoot.

But I don’t dare indulge a swoon about it. My sanity doesn’t deserve that space. Why should I get it when my family is nowhere near similar freedom? When they’re paying the price for my rainbow-crayoned dreams?

“Welcome to the island of Kriti. More specifically, to my velo,” the sea king says, gesturing for Maximus and me to precede him up the dock.

My husband nods as gallantly as if his shirt doesn’t have seventy mystery stains and his bow tie hasn’t gone permanently MIA. As he retakes my hand and leads me toward the multi-storied villa, he states to his uncle, “So that’s what you were referring to, about the veil. Your velo.”

“Nicely deducted,” Poseidon replies. “But the word also means cloak. Proteus and I have taken that part quite seriously.”

Though we’re nearly to the veranda, I tug on Maximus and stop.

“How seriously? Are you saying we’re technically cloaked? Like stealth airplanes?”

“And the whole Iremia complex?”

I don’t fault Maximus for adding that with such a foreboding rumble. I held back from saying it because my own iteration would’ve had twice the seethe.