“My name is Andromeda Cross.” I shot him my best neutral smile, the one I gave to every Bridezilla who thought she was in the right. “I’m Danae’s childhood friend. I hope I’m not imposing too much with my presence.”
If Maris found the absence of a House introduction odd, he didn’t show it. “Not at all. Any friend of Ms. Wayland’s is a friend of mine. It’s a true pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I replied. It really wasn’t, but I could be polite to House Poseidon’s leader for Danae’s sake.
Orion smirked, as if he knew what I was truly thinking. “Well, then, as your host, I feel obligated to give you a few tips. Try the seafood, and avoid the punch. House Dionysus has a heavy hand with the hallucinogens tonight.”
I barely managed to suppress a scoff. “We noticed.”
“Sharp.” A dry chuckle rumbled in Orion’s chest. It cracked the polished veneer of the party, a sound of genuine amusement that hadn’t been practiced in a mirror. “I appreciate that. Honesty is a rare commodity on this ship. Usually, people just praise the wine while trying to hide the fact that they’re terrified.”
“The real question is what actually scares them.” I watched a guest in a soaked tuxedo drag a laughing companion into the pool. “The wine they drink, or the host who offers it to them?”
“You really are an interesting one.” Orion inclined his head, scanning the partygoers with indulgent eyes. “I don’t think I’m that terrifying. Never to my guests, at least.”
Before I could muster another reply, a man in a crisp blue uniform wove through the crush of bodies. When he reachedOrion’s side, he leaned in, whispering something in the Alpha’s ear.
“Already?” Orion asked, his pleasant smile twisting into an unreadable expression.
The aide nodded, glancing nervously toward the starboard side. “Just arrived. The helicopter landed a few minutes ago.”
“Very well. Send them to the private lounge.” Orion released a heavy exhale, the kind that usually signaled the end of a very long, very expensive night. “My apologies. It seems the real world insists on intruding.”
I knew I shouldn’t stick my nose into his business, but I’d never been good at doing what was expected of me. “Is everything all right, Lord Maris?”
Fortunately, Orion didn’t seem to mind my nosiness. “Just politics. The one storm I can’t control. Nothing of concern.”
The politics of the Olympian Houses were always of concern, but I had no intention of testing my luck further. “If there’s anyone who can understand the importance of work, it’s Danae and me. Please don’t let us keep you.”
No doubt, he’d have left either way, but he seemed charmed that I’d given him the excuse.
“I’m afraid I must. I hate having to deprive myself of your wonderful company, but it can’t be helped. Enjoy theOdyssey. And if the noise gets to be too much, the upper observation deck is usually empty. The view is worth the climb.”
With that, Orion bowed and turned away, vanishing into the crushing press of bodies. The aide trailed him like a shadow, and the moment they were gone, the vacuum of authority filled instantly with chaos. The bass seemed to hit harder, the laughter shriller.
Danae slumped against the railing, her posture collapsing like a marionette with cut strings. “Okay. He’s gone. I didn’t make a fool of myself. I didn’t faint.”
“You didn’t.” I reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, fixing the damage the wind had done. “You stood your ground against a House Poseidon Alpha. I’m proud of you.”
She looked around at the swirling lights and the sheer, overwhelming scale of the party. “So… now what? We can’t just stand here.”
A server drifted past us, balancing a silver tray of champagne flutes. Not the glowing poison House Dionysus was pushing. Something with a little more promise.
With almost unusual enthusiasm, Danae intercepted the server and grabbed two glasses from the tray. She shoved one of them straight at me and shot me a sheepish glance. “To survival?”
I had no desire to drink Orion’s champagne, but when Danae looked at me like that, I couldn’t refuse her. “No, Danae.” I took the offered glass and pasted a smile on my face. “To you, and your genius.”
After all, tonight wasn’t about my resentment of the Olympian Houses. It wasn’t about me at all. It was about Danae, and as long as she was happy, so was I.
The guest cabin smelled of lavender and pressed linen, a sterile sanctuary that felt a world away from the riots on the deck.
“I think the room is spinning.” Danae flopped onto the duvet, burying her face in the pillow. Her heels lay discarded on the plush carpet. She’d kicked them off the moment we’d crossed the threshold. It was a minor miracle she’d even worn them for so long and hadn’t abandoned them hours ago.
“We are on a boat, Day.” I picked up her heels and set them down neatly by the door. “Everything is spinning.”
“No. It’s the champagne.” She rolled over, blinking up at the ceiling with glassy, unfocused eyes. “I think… I didn’t survive it, after all.”
“You did good.” I pulled the duvet up to her chin, watching the tension finally bleed out of her frame. She looked impossibly young like this, stripped of the equations and the anxiety.“You’re going to be fine. Just sleep it off. I’ll wake you before we dock.”