Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

22. Arachne

22

ARACHNE

T he world spins as Arachne leans over the side of the ship, again, and vomits. Years as a spider followed by a rapid transformation back to her mortal form has left Arachne struggling to cope with equilibrium regulation. And of course, their destination is as far away as it possibly can be.

She and Hera quickly took the oath once on board the ship, both agreeing to help knock the Pantheon down a few pegs. Each itching to get retribution for their time on that island.

A calloused hand strokes her back, and Arachne smiles despite the nausea. She does not have to look up to know it is Cyril. He has remained by her side the entire journey, quick to care for any need that might arise.

“How do you feel about letting Psyche help you with your nausea today?” Cyril asks gently.

Arachne wipes her mouth and stands up, using the railing to stabilize herself with her wobbly balance. The ship suddenly lurches, and her stomach heaves again. She is hesitant to trust a goddess, or anyone aside from Hera or Cyril, for that matter, but she doubts she can withstand much more sea sickness.

“Okay,” she says weakly while hanging over the railing.

Arachne hears his footsteps retreat, and she breathes in deep, trying desperately to soothe her stomach.

The sun bounces off the glassy surface of the water, and Arachne leans over to try and get a look at herself. There aren’t any mirrors on the ship, and none of the metal surfaces are shiny enough to see her reflection. How is her appearance now? The only thing she has been able to see so far is that her skin is still the pale ivory color it used to be, and that her long hair that was black is now snow white.

The ripples in the water prevent her from seeing a clearer image of herself, and leaning over to look is making her more nauseated.

A few minutes later, Cyril returns with Psyche in tow. They both help Arachne to a sitting position, and she immediately brings her hand to her mouth.

From the pocket of her dress, Psyche removes a stone the color of jade, along with a small pouch of ground herbs. She places it on Arachne’s forehead and closes her eyes. The stone glows beneath the goddess’s touch, and the nausea recedes with each passing second.

The goddess smiles. “There. That should take care of the immediate nausea. Drink this tea every day when you wake up and again if you feel any more nausea coming and I’m not around.”

“What’s in it?” Arachne asks shakily.

Psyche pats her shoulder comfortingly. “Valerian, Arnica, chamomile, and ginger.”

Arachne grips the bag of herbs tightly, clinging to it like it is a lifeline. It is still so strange using her hands and fingers, not to mention walking upright.

When Psyche leaves, Cyril stays with her and with her nausea abated, she can finally enjoy walking around the ship. She finds the chaos and commotion that goes into sailing fascinating.

As her body settles down, Arachne remembers the stories she would make up as a kid about pirates and sea captains. How she longed to feel the sea mist on her face as she rushed from rigging to rigging, tying and loosening knots. Perhaps if the rebels do set this world right, one day she can spend her life at sea… if this sea sickness is not permanent. That part was never present in her fantasies.

Arachne looks out across the vast expanse of the sea before her. She has no idea what to do with her life if the Allegiance is successful. How long were they even on that island? Is her family still alive? Her heart sinks at the thought of them being gone.

It boggles her mind that the Allegiance would even allow Arachne to take their oath and join them. What does she have to offer? Perhaps in her spider form she could provided something worthwhile, but in this body, she is weak. She chuckles at the irony.

Every second on that island, she wished for her own body—her hair, her ability to speak. But now that she has those things again, she feels useless and fragile.

Cyril remains by her side, a silent comfort, as the sun sets on the horizon. Arachne may not have her spider strength anymore, or her webs, but in their place she latches onto something to drive her forward: making Athena pay.