Vowed to Hades (Romancing the Seas #4)

5. Georgette

GEORGETTE

“ S omething terrible has happened,” Serena whispered.

Georgette shuddered as a chill washed over her body. Her eyes locked on the crimson pool spreading across the intricately carved stone floor where they had left Ava and Hercules. The blood contrasted sharply against the iridescent tiles, the same tiles that had once reflected the vibrant hues of Atlantis, now tainted by the horror before them.

There was a stillness in the air, despite the oblivious sea life swimming above their heads.

“Do you think Loki killed them too?” she asked, her stomach twisting at the mere thought.

Ava had been so kind to her, of all the sirens, she was warm and nurturing. Like a big sister who truly cared about others. If something had happened to her…

No .

Georgette shook herself, forcing the horrible thought out of her head.

The idea was unthinkable.

Serena hummed as though she had been listening to Georgette’s thoughts. And then Georgette remembered that she could.

“Hercules is a demi-god, there’s no way…”

“He killed Poseidon, did he not?” Georgette cut in with a glare.

Serena flinched as though Georgette slapped her across the cheek.

But she recovered with a shrug.

“We have work to do. Come on.”

Serena stormed away from the bloodied path and headed back to the palace.

“What are we to do?” Georgette ran to keep up with her sister. “The library is destroyed, your brothers are gone, and…”

“ Our brothers,” Serena corrected, keeping her gaze ahead.

But Georgette’s heart leaped at the sentiment. It was a rare moment that Serena had shown Georgette any sign that she saw her as part of the family, whatever “family” was for her.

Georgette knew that all families had drama, but she had never known of one as dysfunctional as this one.

“We need to do something about Poseidon.”

Serena’s words sunk into Georgette’s heart like dull knives, and she was sure it began to bleed.

“Oh… Of course. ”

They walked in silence.

The harsh reality pressed on Georgette’s heart as she followed Serena, thinking about all the people they had lost.

There was no telling how many sirens were left in the world. Or what had become of the Tritons.

And now Poseidon, God of the Sea, was gone.

And Georgette never got to know him. Which birthed a new type of grief.

It was not a sorrow for what was lost, but rather, a sorrow for what could have been.

And in some ways, to her, that was worse.

For it was better to love and lose it, than never to experience love at all.

Once again, memories crossed her mind like a cruel dream that would never end.

Her beloved Captain Stone, bleeding out in her arms, his chest cavity ripped open.

She curled her fingers to form two tight fists as hot tears prickled her eyes.

When she forced the memory out of her mind, it was replaced with a newer one.

One still sharp and fresh.

Captain Stone burning at the stake, with the sea of Vikings watching with rapt attention.

If the viper had not bitten her, sending a burning wave of power through her body, she would never have been able to summon the rain. And her love would have burned before her very eyes.

She wondered where her Captain Stone was. Was he safe ?

What wretched plans did Loki have, and did he have his eyes on the others?

When they returned to the throne room, Georgette was numb. She stood by and watched Serena yank the spear out of their father’s chest with a sickening squelch. She tossed the weapon aside and a jarring clanging sound ricocheted off the marble walls of the throne room.

Serena’s red hair waved like flames as she grunted and reached around Poseidon’s body. When she jerked her head back, her gaze burned Georgette like hot coals. “Well? Are you going to stand there and watch, or are you going to help me?”

“What are we doing?” Georgette asked.

It was surely too late to revive him with her tears. And even her newfound water powers were useless in this situation.

Serena scoffed. “I’m not looking to bring him back, you fool. We need to bury him.”

Georgette hurried to Poseidon’s other side, and the numbness in her body returned. Her arms moved seemingly on their own, as she helped Serena lift the body.

It was surprisingly light for such a large man with bulging muscles.

Instead of a heavy deadweight, it was like carrying a pile of blankets.

Georgette was struck with the feeling that she was not carrying the God of the Sea. This was not Poseidon.

No .

He had gone away somewhere.

His body was just something insignificant that he left behind.

While they carried him, Georgette tried to avoid looking at her father’s lifeless face. Instead, she kept her focus on Serena, who twisted her features to appear angry, but the glistening tears welling in her eyes were the telltale sign that something more was going on inside.

“I don’t know what they do in England,” she began, her voice laced with an acid tone. “But in Atlantis, we have customs when one of our own perishes. We do not simply leave dead bodies lying around exposed to the elements.”

The emotion in Serena’s voice took Georgette aback. Serena’s face painted a picture of tragedy and suffering. Georgette knew them well.

She had seen the same lines on her own face when she looked in the mirror following the death of her father: Lord Harrington.

But then her mind flooded with the gruesome images of sirens pinned to stakes by steel spears. Their entrails floating like red strands of seaweed in the sea.

“What about our sisters who have been left to the sharks?”

Serena’s eyes narrowed on Georgette. “They do not come from Atlantis. You know Mother is bound to Imerta?—”

“And? She could send someone out to retrieve the bodies? And if she cares about any of us, then why does she not order all sirens to stay on Imerta where it is safe?”

Something flashed across Serena’s eyes, and her brows knitted together for a splinter of a moment. But then her expression turned neutral. “You know how ruthless she is. It is one reason why father wanted nothing to do with her.”

Georgette looked down. “I suppose if you have thousands of offspring, we are all dispensable to Isis.”

Serena’s nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply. She did not say the thought crossing her mind, but Georgette heard it anyway. And the tone was dripping with sarcasm.

Not you, beloved Georgette. You will always be her favorite.

Then she stopped for a second and exhaled.

“I read a saying in an old book once. ‘Though ships find safety in the harbor, they were not crafted to dwell in still waters.’” She gave Georgette a pointed look. “Do you truly believe that any daughter of Isis would hide in Imerta, simply because it is safe?”

For the first time, Georgette smiled.

No bleeding way.

With a satisfied nod at Georgette’s thought, Serena started walking again, and the two of them carried Poseidon’s body down the empty halls of the palace.

Finally, they reached a large mosaic wall, swirls of blue and green formed an exquisite picture of art .

Georgette could not decide if it was supposed to be a whirlpool or a portal.

It made her think of the governess, who was fond of art. She would have likely suggested that it represented both. Or was left to interpretation.

A strange twinge of nostalgia struck Georgette, catching her off guard. It had been so long since she even thought of the governess, the memory came as a surprise.

What startled her even more was the unexpected longing that accompanied it—a longing for the long, uneventful days spent in the parlor at Harrington Manor, under the watchful eye of her cold, distant aunt. She once found those days dull, filled with the monotony of needlework, where her biggest worry was getting a stitch wrong or pricking her finger with the needle. But now, in the midst of a brewing war between gods, the quiet, predictable routine she had once despised was a distant, peaceful haven.

Serena nudged a tile with her hip, and the wall opened up like a door, revealing a flight of steps leading to darkness.

“We’re almost there,” Serena grunted.

Georgette tightened her grip on Poseidon's upper body as she and her sister carefully descended the steps. In the distance, the steady drip-drip of water echoed through the silence.

The air hummed with an otherworldly vibration, as if the very walls were alive with ancient power.

“What is this place?” Georgette whispered; her voice barely audible over the subtle thrumming .

As they stepped forward, the chamber opened up, revealing a circular pool at its center, its water glowing with a mysterious light.

Georgette’s gaze lifted to the ceiling, a vast expanse of polished marble that mirrored the pool below.

“Help me lower the body into the water, but careful not to step in it,” Serena said. “Unless you wish to die.”

Georgette followed her instruction, and tip-toed near the water’s edge.

“Easy, easy…” Serena murmured as they lowered Poseidon’s body.

The moment his form touched the surface, the water seemed to come alive, softly enveloping him in its shimmering embrace.

For the first time, Georgette allowed herself to truly look at his face.

His eyes were shut, his features tight, as though he were caught in a troubled sleep rather than in death’s cold grip.

“Do not touch the water!” Serena suddenly barked, her voice sharp, as Georgette instinctively leaned in too close.

Startled, Georgette pulled back, her heart racing as she watched the water swallow Poseidon further into its depths, leaving only ripples in its wake.

“What does it do?”

Serena didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she walked over to an old, rusted wheel protruding from the wall, her gaze never leaving the water. She watched the ripples fade away until the surface was as smooth as glass, then nodded, as if confirming some unspoken understanding.

Without a word, she gripped the wheel and gave it a sharp yank. The metal groaned in protest, but it didn’t budge.

Serena grunted, her frustration evident, and then used both hands, her muscles straining against the stubborn mechanism.

Still, the wheel refused to move.

“Help me,” she demanded, her voice tight with effort.

Georgette quickly crossed the room. Together, they grasped the wheel, their combined strength finally forcing it to turn.

The grinding noise that followed echoed through the chamber, sending vibrations up through their feet.

Georgette watched in amazement as something began to rise from the pool—a statue, frozen in a moment of eerie stillness, emerged from the water.

It was Poseidon’s body encased in a solid sheath of crystal-clear ice. His form was preserved down to the last detail, his face still twisted as if in a troubled sleep, the same expression she had glimpsed moments before.

Serena stepped back, a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “His body is now preserved,” she said, her voice calm, almost clinical. “It will be stored here until he returns.”

“Returns?” Georgette echoed; her voice tinged with disbelief. The idea of someone returning from what seemed like certain death was beyond her understanding.

Serena snorted, a sharp sound that contrasted with the solemnity of the chamber. “A god cannot truly die. Death is only for humans.”

Her words were matter of fact, but there was a depth to them, a finality that Georgette found unsettling.

Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, Serena’s eyes widened, and her hand instinctively reached for her neck, her fingers brushing against the skin there as if searching for something.

But before Georgette could question her reaction, Serena shook herself, her expression hardening once more. She turned away abruptly, leaving Georgette to grapple with the growing unease that churned within her.

On the way out, Georgette glanced back at the statue.

There were so many questions, but the answers seemed as elusive as the gods themselves.

And as Serena’s footsteps faded into the distance, Georgette couldn’t help but wonder if they were all just pawns in a game far beyond their control.

Serena’s gaze flickered between Georgette and the frozen statue of Poseidon, her thoughts clearly racing.

“We need to decide, and fast. Do we search for the Tritons, go to warn our husbands, or help Hercules and Ava?” she asked, her voice tight with urgency.

Georgette swallowed as they pushed through the veil and swam up the ocean. They continued their conversation telepathically.

If we find the Tritons, we might gain allies, but Hercules and Ava… they could be in grave danger , she replied.

Serena nodded, though her eyes seemed far away, lost in thought. Their long siren fins moved in sync as they scattered a school of fish.

Time is slipping through our fingers, Serena said. The gods are stirring, and every moment counts. We must ? —

Her sentence was abruptly cut off as they broke the surface of the water, gasping for air, only to find themselves surrounded by ships. Dark, looming silhouettes filled the horizon, their presence suffocating in the moonlit night.

Before Georgette could fully grasp the situation, chaos erupted.

Nets rained down on them, tangling their limbs, while harsh shouts echoed across the water.

The suddenness of the attack left her reeling and disoriented.

It was dark, and the cacophony of shouting mixed with Serena’s frantic hissing and screeching, creating a symphony of terror that drowned out her thoughts.

A deafening bang tore through the air, silencing everything in an instant. Georgette’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild rhythm of panic. She fought against the net, her fingers clawing desperately at the tangled ropes, but before she could free herself, she was yanked into the air.

Her breath caught in her throat as she was dropped heavily onto the deck of a ship.

For a brief moment, she thought they’d been captured by pirates. But as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized with a sinking heart that the ship was unlike any she’d ever seen—constructed entirely from bones. The skeletal structures gleamed with a cold, otherworldly light, and dread coiled in her stomach like a serpent.

Georgette, look at the flag.

Georgette followed the sound of Serena’s voice echoing in her mind, her eyes lifting to the mast above.

The moonlight bathed the ship in an eerie glow, revealing a flag that billowed in the night air like a blood-stained shroud. As the wind caught it, the fabric unfurled, revealing a crude image scrawled across its surface.

When the flag straightened, Georgette swallowed hard, a wave of dread and horror washing over her as her eyes locked onto the image of a scorpion—its dark form unmistakable.

It was the same scorpion that adorned Loki’s cloak, the same symbol etched into the blade that had killed Poseidon.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, a sharp pain exploded in her head. Something heavy had struck her, and darkness swallowed her whole.